DISCLAIMER: All characters and Middle Earth belong to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien. I have borrowed them for a little bit.

A/N: Just a short story to help me with my current bout of writer's block. For all of you patiently waiting, I hope to update The Kindness of Strangers soon.

The First Time by Jessie Syring

I stand and watch as he crosses the bridge, leaving the safety of our home to venture into the wilds. I want to be there. I need to be there. But I know I had to let go. He would resent my presence on this quest. I have to let him find his own path.

He pauses at the end of the bridge and turns to look back. His hair blows around his shoulders and face in the wind created by the water rushing by. He wears his hair tied back in braids like a badge of honor. He catches my eye and smiled then, raising his bow jauntily in salute before hurrying after his companion.

I watch until they are out of sight, disappearing into the trees. He is well trained and with a skilled companion. But still I worry.

= = = = = = = = = =

Waiting is never easy.

As time drags on, I fret about the littlest thing. The slightest sound makes me edgy. I finally excuse myself from my duties and walk outside. The sunshine through the trees warms my face and brightens my mood until I see how low in the sky it has gotten. Time has passed quickly.

And where is my son? I begin pacing along the path, struggling with decisions. I should ride out and search for him. No---I should send the entire guard out to look for him! Surely this should not be taking so long? My mind made up, I turn back toward the hall to begin summoning the guard.

Then I hear them. Two voices echoing above the sound of the water. My son's voice carries clearly, his song one of joy and freedom. I cannot help but smile---the quest must have been successful. I hurry back inside and make my way to the hall. If he sees me here, I will rob him of his joy. That I cannot do.

I have seated myself and taken up a book in the main hall, schooling my expression to stern disinterest, when the hall doors open and my son comes running in, his face bright with joy and excitement. "Ada!" he cries. "We have returned! Our hunt was a success!" I raise my head and look at him. He comes to a sudden stop, losing his smile, and hastily bows. "I-I mean, my king, we have returned with venison and..."

"Indeed." Hiding a smile behind my hand, I looked past the youth to the older, dark-haired hunter standing near the doors. "This child is a bit addled, Tarathir," I said, winking conspiratorially. "Can you explain?"

"Yes, sire," Tarathir said, smiling broadly. He stepped forward and bowed. "We brought back four deer, sire."

"And my son?"

"An excellent first hunt, your majesty. He brought down the largest of the four with one clean shot. The stag never knew what hit it."

To the depths of the seas with this charade. Setting the book aside, I hurry forward and grasp my son firmly by the shoulders. He looks up at me, blue eyes bright with hope and excitement. I pull him into a warm embrace.

"Well done, Legolas!"

End