Legolas' first day at school
It was his first day at school, and the young Prince of Mirkwood was very pleased with the way it was turning out. He had talked through assembly without a hint of guilt, and when a teacher had threatened him with a detention he had simply replied with a resounding "I'll set my daddy on you!" - no detention there then, as his daddy was none other than the King of Mirkwood. The next lesson was spent entirely giving out timetables. Legolas beamed up at his teacher in his uniquely angelic way as she gave him his, before glancing down at it. His smile disappeared as he stuck out his tounge in concentration and slowly but deliberately crossed out all but five of his subjects. His timetable now looked like this: (translated)
Monday XXXX XXXXX / Battle Practice / LUNCH / Archery / XXXXX
Tuesday Music XXXXX / XXXXX / LUNCH / XXXXX / Riding
Wednesday XXXX Physical Education / XXXXX / LUNCH / Battle Practice XXXXX
Thursday Riding XXXXX / Archery / LUNCH / XXXXX / XXXXX
Friday XXXXXX XXXXX / XXXXXX / LUNCH / XXXXX / XXXXX
He had been well educated in reading and writing from a very young age, instructed by his father's friend, Elrond of Rivendell. He now pondered what to do in all that spare time - what he had heard of the assembly had made it very clear that no students were allowed to leave the school grounds, and it wasn't like loitering in the corridors sounded fun. His smile spread again as he made a few more slight alterations to his timetable.
Monday Physical Education Music / Battle Practice / LUNCH / Archery / Riding
Tuesday Music Archery / Physical Education / LUNCH / Battle Practice / Riding
Wednesday Archery Physical Education / Riding / LUNCH / Battle Practice Music
Thursday Riding / Physical Education / Archery / LUNCH / Music / Battle Practice
Friday Battle Practice Riding / Music / LUNCH / Archery / Physical Education
The hobbit sat next to him peered at it over his shoulder. "Oh! You have such a fun week! I wish my timetable was as good as that!" Legolas reached for his timetable, and soon he and the hobbit shared a miraculously interesting timetable. "You can read?" The young prince asked incredulously as he passed it back. "Of course - my old gaffer taught me. Coo! You know, you look just like the prince of Mirkwood! You should apply for a look-a-likey agency! You could get money for that!" The little hobbit was becoming quite excited about the idea. Legolas slumped in his chair, then remembered what his father had taught him and went for a look of regal disdain instead. "I tried to join a look-a-likey agency. They said that I wasn't allowed." "Why, because you're too young? Those orcheads - in the first age we'd be considered old by now!" "No, not because I'm too young, because I automatically look like the Prince of Mirkwood. If I convinced the white wizard to turn my hair purple and then chopped my nose off I'd still look like the Prince of Mirkwood! I mean, just because I am the Prince, doesn't mean I have to look like the Pri- what are you doing?" The little hobbit was curled in a ball on the floor before the elf, muttering "Sorry, your Highness, didn't realise, sir." "Oh, for goodness sake, don't bother. It makes me feel uncomfortable. And my name's Legolas." The little hobbit, apologizing profusely, scrambled back onto his seat with some difficulty. "My name's Samwise, Mr Legolas. Samwise Gamgee, but you can call me Sam, if it pleases you, sir. That's what my old gaffer calls me." "Well, Sam, we seem to be in a few - no, all - of our classes together, so we'd better get to-"
"Legolas, Samwise, do you have something to share with the class?" The teacher pounced on them both. "No, ma'am , but my father might if you are mean to me." "Class," the teacher announced, "off you go. You have missed your first two lessons, so off you all go to Battle Practice."
"Oh, goody." said Legolas in mock delight. "I'd hoped we'd have a fun lesson to start off with. I would never have guessed, though. Would you, Sam?"
"Yes, Mr Legolas sir. I saw you put it on our timetables, sir." Legolas bashed his head on his desk lid three times, before gliding out into the corridor, with Sam, quite literally, at his heels.
"Ah, hello. Did you get lost? You're rather late." The teacher was a Ranger, who was wearing a small sign around his neck identifying him as Mr. Arathorn. "Lost? I know this forest like the back of my hand. I think I can manage a school,Mr Arathorn" Legolas glared at the teacher. "Then why are you late? Don't worry, you aren't in trouble." This afterthought was addressed to Sam, who was trembling and trying to hide his chubby little body behind Legolas' slender legs. "I am never late. Nor am I early. I always arrive precisely when I mean to." As usual, Legolas was in control of the situation. Arathorn turned back to the rest of the class. "I really hope my son Aragorn doesn't turn out like this..." he muttered.
Two hobbits were gaping at him from a corner. One poked the other, who rather hesitantly raised his hand. "Er... Meriadoc? Yes?" Hardly anyone heard what he said, so he was forced to repeat it. "AretheyumImeanaretheywellyouknowelves?" The hobbit managed to produce an audible whisper. Legolas was taken aback. They? He glanced behind him and saw another elf standing behind him, in the doorway. "Haldir, I presume? Another latecomer - you are very late, you know, Haldir, it just won't - " Arathorn began, and then, remembering his trouble with Legolas, "However, it is your first lesson... please do not repeat this performance. There are three seats at the back." They settled down, and then the other hobbit waved his hand in the air. "Um... Peregrine, is it? What do you want?" "It's Pippin, and please sir, Merry asked a question!" Legolas raised his hand idly. "What?!"Arathorn's patience was reaching it's end, and it showed. "Yes, we are elves. And we say that you hobbits breathe so loud, we could shoot you in the dark. Now can we have a fight?"
So, after a few safety rules which they all decided were very important and therefore worthy of being ignored, they got out the training swords and shields, etc. and for their first lesson they simply beat the hell out of each other. After class, Sam staggered out with a black eye, Merry limped as he dragged Pippin out, and Haldir had grazed his knee on a dwarf's head. The latter turned as he left to call "Legolas! Are you coming or don't you want lunch? I hear the canteen lembas is really delicious!" The noble prince stopped kicking somebody's head in and floated out of the classroom, not a hair out of place.
"I thought you said they had lembas?" Legolas enquired, looking up from doctoring everyone else's timetables as Sam returned with all their food. "I asked," He managed, "but the dinnerlady said that was staff only, and that we'd have to make do with Hobbiton stew." Haldir sighed. "Oh well, it's not lembas, but it's not bad I suppose..." He trailed off to watch Legolas, who was already strolling up to the front of the queue. "Excuse me. Five pieces of lembas please! I'll give you an autograph in exchange! I am the Prince of Mirkwood, my autograph's worth something, you know!" Eventually, at the cost of a personal message with the autograph, Legolas returned to the table with the lembas. "Here you go! Getting that was a piece of lembas! Ha!" They laughed until it was time for Archery. "Yay! I love Archery!" Haldir cried. "My father decided that I could have my own bow just as soon as I started Archery at school. He wouldn't let me try it before that - Elrond refused to teach me in case I skewered something valuable. Everything in my home is valuable. Especially me." Legolas was secretly rather annoyed. "I don't think I'll be very good at it. I'm too small really. Hobbits don't usually do much fighting and Archery and stuff." Sam murmured in a feeble little voice.
When they arrived at class, a necklace around their teacher's neck identified her as Galadriel. "Line up beside a bow and I'll come round with the quivers and help you get started! Have any of you attempted any Archery before?" Haldir stepped forward, and she gave him a quiver and told him to just see what he could do. He aimed slowly but carefully, and let his arrow fly. It stuck, quivering, from the very outside ring of the target. The class cheered. Legolas sulked. "Well done, Haldir. Do carry on. Now, Smeagol, you hold it like this, and then..." Galadriel started at the other end of the line. "See it fly, preciousss, it will fly!" The arrow plunged into the ground about 2 metres form where the slimy creature was standing. "Oh, nice try, Smeagol. Carry on..." Eventually, Sam's first arrow stuck into the post supporting his target, and it was Legolas' turn at last. He took his arrows, nodded at Galadriel as she talked while not actually taking in a word, pulled his string back and fired without more than a second's aim in his frustration. "Woohoo - yeah yipee- I mean, oh. That wasn't too bad. For a first time." Legolas, once again, caught himself a second too late in his royal celebrations. The arrow had gone straight through the olliphantseye in the centre of the target and was stuck in a tree. Sam eventually managed to hit the white outer ring, while Haldir had got to the 2nd ring from the olliphantseye. The slimy little creature, Smeagol, had actually succeeded in skewering himself through the hand with his arrow, having put the offending limb in front of the arrowhead before firing. Legolas, of course, had never missed the olliphantseye even once. "Right, students, go to your next lesson! I believe it's Dwarvish?" The little group of friends moved off towards the stables.
"Hello. My name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and we appear to be in both the same riding class and the same circle of society. I'm going to be the King of Gondor, don't you know?" A chubby little child with black hair and freckles introduced himself to Legolas, and only to Legolas. Sighing, the prince reached for Aragorn's timetable. "I'm Legolas, son of- oh, come on, surely you know his name - and I'm already the Prince of Mirkwood. There. All done. Now you're in all my classes." He finished with a flourish, and pocketed his quill. "So, bagsies the best... six horses!" The class scrambled to the stable doors, each of which had a horse's name on it, and also the name of a student. These were on pieces of parchment, pinned to the doors, and Legolas quickly appraised which horse would go best with his hair, and switched his name with the one on the door. Aragorn found short ponies for the hobbits, and chose tall brown ones for himself and Haldir. "One day," Sam announced, "I'll have my own pony, and it will be a chesnut, and I will call it Bill." This settled, they leant on their doors and watched as the rest of the class arrived. A little blonde girl was the next to arrive, and she had been assigned a grey horse to ride. Then came 9 big boys who looked as if they had been held back a few years. "Goths," Haldir muttered in disgust. And indeed, they looked like members of some evil cult out of Mordor, dressed as they were in long, black, hooded robes that didn't even show their faces. Finally, their teacher arrived. "My name is Mr. Saruman. I am the White Wizard - but I don't know a thing about horses. I'm just a cover teacher for this afternoon's lesson. I hope-" But the class were in the tack room already. The words 'cover teacher' mean the same in Mirkwood as they do anwhere else - a lesson all to yourself to do whatever you like with no regard for the teacher's instructions. Within two minutes, they were all tacked up. Within two and a half minutes, Sam was on the trail. Everyone else was on the horses on the trail. The nine in black had galloped off cackling madly, Merry and Pippin were helping Sam back on to his pony, and Aragorn and Legolas were discussing royal protocol while watching Haldir performing such tricks as hanging upside down from his horse's reins while the horse cantered wherever it chose to, as he had completely lost control and scared the wits out of the creature. When Merry, Pippin and Sam decided to take part in Saruman's little talk on grooming (read from the textbook he held in front of him)after all, the other three were off like lightning. They didn't notice the little girl trailing behind Aragorn, even as they returned to the stables to put their horses to bed. "So, anyone fancy going to Dad's elvish poetry club? You just sit and talk, and I'll have to stay anyway..."
Five minutes later, Legolas, Aragorn, Haldir and the little blonde girl were sat in an otherwise empty classroom staring into space. Tentatively, Haldir passed a scrap of paper across to Legolas. This is boring, it read. For the benefit ofAragorn, he had written it in the language of Men. Legolas laughed, and raised his hand. "Can we talk, sir?" He didn't wait for Arathorn's somewhat doubtful nod to begin. "Of course, Legolas, that's what we're here for, so you can share your creative poetic ideas. You may move the desks, if you like. The boys moved their desks into an 'L' shape, and gestured for the girl to move hers, to complete the square. She did so, and bobbed a curtsey in the general direction of the two 'royal' students. "Erm... Mister Aragorn... and Mr Legolas and Mr Haldir, of course - thank you for letting me sit with you! I don't suppose... you could fix my timetable like yours, for me, could you?" Legolas raised his eyebrows at Aragorn and Haldir. Haldir nodded sympathetically, but Aragorn had an idea. "Yes, go on, Legolas - then he'll think we're working on a group project; it'll look like we're working!" (Pretty good idea for a five-year-old, huh?) Legolas reluctantly reached for his quill. "I'm Eowyn, by the way. Are we going to do anything here?"When her question was met with looks of scorn and much shaking of heads, she quickly added a "Good!" before falling silent. Legolas returned her timetable, chatting animatedly about Lorien, where Legolas had been on holiday not long before, and where Haldir's aunt lived. Finally, Arathorn announced that they should now read their poem, or poems, to him so that he could see what standard they were at. Legolas launched into his "I'm-the-prince-I'll-set-Daddy-on-you" routine, but Haldir cauht his eye and winked. Legolas trailed off into "Oh, look at that- Haldir's stage fright is cured...!" and Haldir began. "Um... well - here goes...
There is a fine place called Lothlorien,
Where nothing seems strange though it's foreign
The place a'int war torn
Like the plains of Mordor
In fact it's full of hobbit warrens!"
"Well done! Was that a group project?" They all nodded emphatically. "Off you go then - strange... I could have sworn I've heard that somewhere before..."
"Hey - why don't you two come over?" Legolas invited the other boys as Eowyn drifted in the other direction. "You can sleep over, if you like - Dad said it's alright, and he'll send messengers to the parents of anyone I want to invite!" "No need with mine!" Aragorn raced off to find his father. Moments later he emerged, looking crestfallen. "Won't he let you?" Haldir asked, sympathetically. "Tell him I order you to come!" Legolas thundered. A slow smile came over Aragorn's face. "He already said yes - why push it? Ha! You're so gullible!" Haldir gave him a friendly punch on the arm. Legolas glared at him. "Oh, come on, Legolas! Where's your sense of humour?" Aragorn didn't want to lose his new friend. "Ha ha! You fell for it! I'm not really angry!" Legolas and his friends wandered home, taking it in turns to give each other fits of the giggles all the way.
COMING SOON: The sleepover...