Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.

Author's Notes: All right! I've finally updated! I am amazed at how many of you continue to read and review despite my extreme slowness. Responses to your wonderful reviews follow the chapter.

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Chapter 9~*~Ups and Downs

High summer was a good time for eating out of doors. The air was hot and excessively sticky, but the trees provided ample shade and relief. Everywhere there were excited young voices, chattering and laughter, and the smacks and slurps that were inevitable when combining small children and several sliced melons.

Legolas reached for a piece of watermelon, licking at the red juice that dribbled over his fingers and hands. Lately there had always been pitchers of water after training, but today Rossion's wife and Cúran's mother had brought dishes of freshly sliced watermelon and cantaloupe. The fruit tasted very good after running about, and it was nice to sit under the trees while waiting to go home.

"Mmm," Arasil swallowed, immediately lifting his slice to take another bite, "You're lucky your nana grows melons, Cúran. My nana doesn't plant anything."

"There are flowers by your windows though," Legolas turned to the dark-haired Elfling, remembering the few visits to his house, "Yellow ones."

"My ada planted those," Arasil nodded, making sure that he had bit every bit of fruit off of the dark green rind, "He says the horses like to eat them."  The Elfling suddenly raised his head, as though remembering something, "He's coming to get me today. He said he's going to take me to the archery greens this afternoon."

Cúran hurriedly swallowed the chunk of melon he was chewing on, nodding swiftly, "Me too! My ada is bringing me!" He wiped a dribble of juice from his chin with the back of his hand, turning to Legolas, "Are you coming?"

"Why?" Legolas looked between the two other children, confused. Why was going to the big archery green so important? Maybe there was going to be a demonstration there.

"They said we can practice there, Legolas! In the afternoon when the big Elves aren't there," Arasil informed him, "You should ask your ada if you can come. We could practice together just like the older groups do. And have contests!"

"Yes! They have targets there!" Cúran put in, remembering the brightly colored circles at the green. He had never tried to hit a target before---his father had only just agreed to let him start practicing with his cousin's outgrown bow this morning.

Contests? Legolas nodded slowly, liking that idea. Aldan had been taking him to an open spot in the gardens every afternoon for a few weeks, and he was sure that he could beat Arasil at something by now.

"That would be fun," he finished his piece of melon, wiping his hands on his tunic, "I'll talk to my ada."

~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil glanced around the table set up in the gardens, glad to have the afternoon free. The recently returned ambassador who had been scheduled to address the court had cancelled, leaving the king and his councilors with little to do but go over old business. Thranduil picked up his fork, stabbing it into the mixed greens on his plate. It would be good to have a little extra time with his family. 

"Ada," Legolas picked up a slice of fresh cucumber from his plate, bending it between his fingers until it broke, "Arasil's ada is taking him to the practice fields."

Thranduil nodded, slyly pushing a sizeable slice of onion under the garnish of parsley that had decorated his plate. After all these years, the cooks still forgot that he did not appreciate their horrendously large chunks of onion. "That is nice, Legolas. I hope that they enjoy themselves."

"Cúran's ada is taking him too," Legolas continued, swallowing one half of the cucumber slice and tracing the other around the edge of his plate.

"I thought that you said Cúran did not have a bow yet," Thilómë glanced at her younger son.

Legolas turned his attention to his mother, "He does now, Nana. His cousin let him have his old one. And now his ada is taking him to the practice fields." He glanced between his parents, waiting for one of them to say something. The Elfling played with his remaining half slice of cucumber before finally speaking up, "Ada, do you think I could practice there?"

"Don't you like the gardens, Legolas?" Thranduil shoved another chunk of onion under the garnish, "Aldandil practiced there when he was younger, and it is much quieter."

"Yes," Legolas nodded, sucking on his lip, "But I want to practice with Arasil and Cúran. We could have contests."

"Contests?" Thranduil put down his fork. His younger son seemed to enjoy practicing, and was reasonably confident in his abilities, but a few afternoons of competition with other children could quickly change that.

"Yes, like the big Elves," Legolas nodded excitedly, "There are targets, and we can mark our arrows and everything!"  Ada's expression didn't change, and Nana was watching him carefully. Why couldn't they understand how fun it would be? There wasn't anything wrong with having contests, was there?

Thranduil exchanged a look with his wife, seeing the concern in her eyes as well. He turned back to his younger son, "You may go to the greens once in awhile, Legolas, but I think that you should keep practicing with your brother in the gardens. There will be enough of contests when you are older. I will take you this afternoon."

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil fiddled with his pen, wasting fair amounts of dark walnut ink on decorating the edges of his paper. He had always had a hard time writing letters, but this one was proving to be one of the most difficult. Already the paper had an intricate border of leaves and vines, along with an occasional imperfect squirrel or rabbit, a sure sign that he had been musing for far too long.

He had not even managed the greeting. How was one supposed to start a letter that had to include memories and suggestions and, perhaps most challenging, an apology?

The young Elf stared at the paper for a moment before replacing his pen in the silver inkstand on his desk. In half a moment the paper was crumpled and tossed into the grate at the other side of the room, joining in its fate several other letters that had been written over the years.

Maybe now was a good time to look for Nim.

~*~

Thranduil sat at the edge of the archery green under the spreading boughs of a large oak, keeping an eye on his younger son. He had intended to spend the hour or so at the green checking Legolas' progress and helping the child, but the plan had quickly fallen through. It was not long before the other children arrived, and in moments his son was asking to be allowed to share a target with them.

The king shook his head, watching as the father of one of the boys attempted to teach his son the basics of fitting, drawing, and releasing an arrow. Nearby Legolas and Arasil were taking turns at the target, and he was glad to see his son aiming carefully.

He had not expected the children to behave and organize themselves so well. They managed to wait for the signal to retrieve their arrows, and so far there had been no apparent squabbles or arguments.

Perhaps the green was a good place for Legolas after all.

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil walked slowly through the healing wards, trying to find Nimaron. One of the healing assistants had pointed him in the direction of the healers' washroom, mentioning that she had seen the Imladris Elf there a moment ago. Not being a frequent visitor to this area, Aldandil had pushed open several doors to storerooms and one to a sunroom. He sighed in relief at the sight of a long counter of wash basins and towels as he pushed open yet another door, further gladdened at the sight of Nimaron splashing his hands in one of the basins. "Nim!" Aldandil hurried into the room, "I was looking for you!"

"Oh," Nimaron plunged his hands into the warm water again, lathering a bar of soap between them, "What is it?"

Aldandil glanced around the washroom, surprised to see Nimaron cleaning blood off of his hands, "What were you doing?" It dawned on him that the Noldo had exchanged his usual robes for the loose tunic and pants that most healers wore when going about the somewhat messier duties of their practice.

"Surgery," Nimaron rubbed his thumb against his knuckles, effectively getting rid of the flecks of blood there.

"You don't…" Aldandil's brow creased, "You don't do surgery. You do…other things."

"I prefer to do other things, but I did surgery," Nimaron responded. He toweled off his hands, heading out of the room, "Now, what did you need, Aldandil? Is your brother all right?"

"He's fine," Aldandil trailed slowly after the healer, realizing that the dark-haired Elf seemed much more tired than usual, "Are you all right?"

"Of course," Nimaron paused a moment to give the younger Elf an annoyed look before drawing in a deep breath, "Just tired. It has been a very long day."

Aldandil continued to follow the healer, "Would you care for some cordial? I was hoping we could talk."

~*~~*~~*~

Nimaron sipped slowly from his glass, wishing that the cordial would work on his nerves a bit faster. What he really wanted to do was bathe and rest before being dragged back to the healing wards, but Thranduil's older son seemed to think that this particular beverage would dispel any and all stress or worry.

"What is it, Aldandil?" Nimaron set his glass down, "I really do not have a lot of time."

"Why didn't you marry her, Nim?" Aldandil stared at the healer, "I mean, if you've only ever considered marriage once, she must have been the one."

"What?" Nimaron gaped at the younger Elf, surprised that he was still pondering over such things, and that he even had the forwardness to ask. Hadn't he told him not to worry about them? He sat for a while in his chair, then finally answered slowly, "It was such a long time ago, Aldandil. She was a healer too. It is very rigorous, taxing…all of healing is. A marriage takes a lot of energy, and we agreed that it was energy that we really could not spare." He shrugged slightly, tilting his glass back and forth, "We were already training to be healers when we met; it is life-consuming work, and it was especially that way at the time. It was too late to change."

"Oh," Aldandil responded, a hint of disbelief in his voice. From the way Nimaron rubbed his finger around the rim of the glass and stared into the pale liquid, he wasn't sure if the healer believed his own words. Perhaps it was best to change the subject. "So, it was a difficult day then?"

"You cannot imagine," Nimaron began to get up, deciding that talking with the king's son and consuming alcohol were not going to relax him at all. "Burns here and here," he brushed two hands down the front of his tunic, then gestured towards his chin before looking at his hands, "But the hands were worst. Very bad."

"What happened?" Aldandil's eyes widened at the information, "Was there a cottage fire? Was he rescuing someone?" Surely such a thing would have been mentioned in the halls or in court. 

Nimaron shook his head slowly. "Boiling water," he stated, "She was sealing peaches." He thought back to the patient for a moment, then tilted his head at the younger Elf, "You haven't told me your story, Aldandil." 

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas pulled at the collar of his tunic, wishing that the day was not quite so hot. There was precious little shade on the archery greens, and the sun was still fairly high. The grass that brushed against his ankles was coarse and dry already, while strands of his hair were limp and wet. It would be good to go home to the cool halls of the palace and have lemonade and fruit later.

The Elfling glanced around the field, looking first at the older boys practicing, and then at Arasil and Cúran. It was Arasil's turn to shoot, and Legolas watched the other child pull an arrow back, his eyes fixed on the target placed not too far away.

"You aren't standing right," Legolas commented after Arasil's arrow struck the outermost edge of the target. He stood as Aldan had showed him, "See? Your feet should be like this, and your back should be straight. And you should move your arm like this."

Arasil regarded Legolas a moment, then glanced towards the target, "I don't think it matters Legolas. I mean, look at our arrows. Almost all of mine are at least in the target, and all of yours are…well…not."

"He's right," Cúran admitted hesitantly when Legolas looked to him. His own arrows had gone every which way, but many of Arasil's had indeed touched the target, while Legolas' had fallen a good length in front of it, "Look at them."

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil poured himself a few more sips of cordial, dropping to sit heavily in his chair. "I don't know if I was in love or not. How are you supposed to know? When you see a pretty girl, you think…well, you think a lot of things," He shrugged, not knowing how to start, "I don't know…I knew a girl a long time ago--or it would be a long time ago for me--and I wanted to know everything about her. Is it really love when that happens, when you can actually talk with someone? I thought that maybe it was even more than that, but maybe it isn't." Aldandil paused, trying to make sense of what he was trying to say, "Do you remember at Legolas' Sien Maethor Laer, when the girls freed the braids of the warriors? They practice a very long time for that."

His parents had arranged for Meril to free his braids for him. He had seen her occasionally before at celebrations and feasts, and once or twice she had sat on the far end of his father's table, being the daughter of an ambassador. It did not seem quite fair to have his parents choose a girl for him--most of the other young warriors were paired with young ladies they courted, and in some cases a dear sister or cousin. To make matters worse, Meril was not the sort of girl who managed to instantly garner one's attention. He had always thought her serious and reserved and…well, uninteresting.

It turned out, however, that in all truth she was not. She paid close attention to the steps, and when he had passed his sword to her, she had politely inquired about the lineage and craft of the weapon. It had surprised him when she listened intently to information that others found rather dull. What impressed him most, however, was that somehow she had gathered that these practices terrified him, that he had never felt more vulnerable than when his own sword was being swung on either side of his head. She had never mentioned it, instead being careful to measure her own moves in an effort to put him at ease. In time he had told her, finding her easy to speak to, and to listen to. Eventually talks with Meril got longer and longer, and more and more enjoyable. The long conversations went beyond the upcoming celebrations and banquets—something that had not happened with any other maiden before (or after, for that matter).

And then wonderful Meril had done something that had astounded him, that had made him incredibly angry. Perhaps not angry…perhaps hurt. At the final practice she had perfected each step and swing, bringing the blade of his sword precariously close to his head multiple times. It had taken a great deal of self-restraint not to grab the weapon out of her hands, to demand that someone else take her place. When the session was over he had stalked off, upset that she would even consider such actions. He had trusted and respected her, and he found the move a mean joke at best.

"I didn't really speak to her again after that," Aldandil shrugged, getting up, "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I would have though." 

~*~~*~~*~

Thilómë spread out fabric swatches over her knees, glancing from the different colors to the book of needlework beside her on the bench. The fall festivals were fast approaching, and it was more than time to prepare new garments for the dances and feasts. She paged through the book, searching for a pattern that might look fetching with a golden brown. Someone else would piece and put together the robes and gowns, but the queen would embroider them herself.

"Hello, Thilómë," Thranduil walked in, sounding more tired than he should have. Thilómë glanced up, finding Legolas in her husband's arms. Seeing his wife rising in concern, Thranduil waved her down with his free hand, "He is just…upset."

"What happened, glî?" Thilómë held out her hands when Thranduil sat down, allowing her child to crawl onto her lap, "I thought you were looking forward to going with Ada."

"I was!" Legolas moaned, looking at his mother for a moment before grabbing at the light wrap that she had worn over her dress and burying his face in it. He wiped at his runny tears with his fingers, wondering why Nana always had to ask what was wrong. He had managed to stay quiet through the end of practice and during the walk home with Ada, but Nana just sounded so nice that it was hard not to cry. "I tried so hard, Nana!"

"Of course you did," Thilómë stroked her son's light hair, rocking the distressed little boy slightly. It worried her when he got upset like this, for memories of a drained child always managed to flash through her head, "Aldandil said that you are getting so, so good."

Legolas heard what his mother said, but it did not seem to matter much at the moment. He twisted around on her lap, "Arasil beat me at everything, Nana. Everything! And he doesn't even stand right. He said it doesn't matter!"

"Oh, but it does," Thranduil reached over to wipe his son's small face with the edge of his sleeve, "It will be very important when you get older."

"He said that maybe I should be a scribe when I grow up, Ada! That's what Cúran wants to be," Legolas slid off his mother's lap to wedge himself between his parents, "I want to be an archer, Ada! Not a scribe. Not ever."

"I know," Thranduil gathered his son up, rubbing the child's heaving back in circles. He had not really known that his son wanted to be an archer, but that was not exactly the point. The king spoke evenly, "If you truly, truly want to be an archer, Legolas, I think that you can be. Of course, you could be a councilor or an ambassador or a captain or anything you wished. " He paused, smiling at the tear-stained little face that peered up at him, "Except, I think, a scribe. Your handwriting is far too sloppy for a scribe."

~*~~*~~*~

*Responses to Reviews*

*Dragon-of-the-north: What a long review! *big grin* I had to print it out this time, and it was going on 2 pages! I'm such a lucky author, mellon nin.

I'm glad you enjoyed the scene between Nimaron and Aldandil—this was supposed to be a Lego-centric fic, but that is quickly changing.  Nimaron, btw, did not realize what he was saying about "small game" (I didn't even realize it!).

It had to be the maiden with the fantastic sword moves. I just couldn't pass it up. 

As you probably noticed, unfortunate Nimaron has consigned himself to a life of single-hood. As I said, he would take a lot of prodding. A LOT. *sighs and rolls eyes towards vicinity of the healing area* 

Poor Legolas is finding that competition is not such a fun thing all the time. Arasil is not exactly the best person to go up against.

I'm glad you approve of Rossion as a teacher—I think those who teach us when we are very young have quite a lot of influence.

*g* Caladir is not the wisest councilor in Thranduil's court. Maybe that's why he is stuck with the task of delivering maps and reports. We shall have to assume that he has no children of his own.

Thranduil is getting there—and I think the fact that his son is involved in several normal activities (whether he excels at them or not) is part of it. He's finally getting to *see* the potential that Legolas really does have.

*Dragon Confused: Hey there! It seems that starting something new is almost never a breeze, which Legolas is fast finding out. Glad to hear that Thranduil has been approved "an excellent father". *g*

*daw the minstrel: I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying seeing Legolas learn, as well as his eagerness. I think Thranduil is really enjoying seeing his son get involved in the regular activities for children his age, though it has brought in several challenges as well.

*Dot: Hi there! You are right about Nimaron learning life's lessons the hard way. He seems to have drawn several of the wrong cards. Unfortunately, our healer doesn't see much of a point in sharing his troubles with anyone.

Poor Rossion has had much more experience with arguing children than crying ones. I can just see him having a fussy little daughter someday and having no idea how to handle her. *g*

I'm glad you enjoyed seeing Legolas' family there for him—he is a lucky Elfling. I think he's really going to need that as the differences between himself and the other children become more and more apparent.

*LOTRFaith: It truly seems the world is out to get you more often than not, but children seem especially good at grinning and bearing it. More power to your brother. *g*  Kids *are* amazing!

*Iluvien: I don't think Aldandil ever actually fell out of love…he is just rottenly stubborn. So far we've only seen the advantages to this (mainly in his conviction that Legolas will grow up fine), but now we get to see where else it's managed to get him.

I couldn't pass up Thranduil's ending line: I doubt Legolas' aim would get as good as it is without an intent focus on it.

*jakar101: Hi there! I'm not sure if Legolas will manage to grow up in this story or not...hopefully at least a little. *g* He will probably not be meeting any of the LOTR characters—at best, Gandalf could drop in to say hello.

*None: I haven't managed to update any sooner, but that's the way it goes when you have loads of coursework. *g* I'm glad you're enjoying seeing Legolas learn, as well as Thranduil's character.

*StrangeBlaze: I've been a bad updater as of late. *g* I agree—it is odd thinking of a crying little Legolas at times! I have a TT poster up and once in awhile I see it and think of my fanfics…and then I just think, "…no…". *g*

I'm glad you liked Thilómë's advice to Legolas. And yes, I'm sure Legolas has developed some good calluses—I doubt those Mirkwood warriors used finger-tabs!

*Nilmandra: I'm glad you like this version of Legolas. The ups and downs have been something a little different for me to write.

After I posted the chapter, I questioned whether or not Thranduil would really be so patient. I think he could manage it if he knew a response like the one he offered would throw his councilor off better than an outburst. *g*

*Elberethia: I'm sorry that my updates are few and far between—college keeps me pretty busy. Legolas hasn't managed to get into trouble, but he is having trouble. I can foresee at least a few confrontations in the future.

If wedding bells are in store for Aldandil, they are a long way off. *g* Legolas' older brother (with the help of his chosen object of affection) has made something of a mess of things.

*Legolas4me: Legolas was indeed frustrated, but he kept trying, and I think that's the important thing. He's getting there. *g*

*Lisette: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. I think Legolas will be taking full advantage of any archery practices in the future.

*cagedphoenix: It was good to hear from you again! I'm glad to hear that you're still enjoying this story of mine. Like any archery student, Legolas' strength will increase as he practices and grows. I think his aim and technique shall be splendid by the time he reaches his full potential. *g*

*SperryDee: Late reviews are much better than none at all! I think school has been keeping a lot of us busy. I have only ever done archery at summer camp, and even then it was with crummy plastic bows, so this is taking some imagination. *g*

*sugaricing: I'm glad that you enjoyed "Ardent Shine the Stars", and hope that you are enjoying this as well. I would love to see your stars reflected in the water photo if you can find it—I've always loved that sight.

*Melphie: Thank you for checking out "Light"; I'm glad that you liked it. *g*

*Fahrenheit 451: Thank you for your nice comments, and for taking the time to read.

*Anyone Else: I hope you are enjoying this little bit of fanfiction! Thank you for reading, and please drop a line or two to let me know you're out there if you get a chance.

A big thanks to those of you who have recently added me to your Favorites' List; it makes me feel very special indeed!

In other news…

-There is a drawing of Thranduil and Thilómë on my Yahoo Profile (link from the ff.net profile—I am too cheap to post a picture there). If it's been replaced by the time you read this, drop me a note and I can email it to you.

-If anyone is interested, I've started an Eluréd and Elurín story (consider them the first set of twins [speculatively] in Elrond's line). It is available here and at Stories of Arda.

-My updates have been few and far between lately: If you'd liked to be emailed when I update, let me know.

As always, thank you for reading! Your comments and questions are always welcome.

--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)