Chapter One
Feasts and Dresses

Feasts. Oh how she hated feasts. All the eating, and the masses of elves, and all their horses crowding the barn. Most of the time she'd get whinnied right out of the stables. There was never anything to be done during the day, because most people were asleep. And she'd be left alone to sit by the waters or in the roots of trees, feeling ignored and in the way.

Tala dreamed of defeating orcs with her bow. Of taking her sword to the very gates of Mordor and fighting in the battles that Galadriel refused to fill her ears with.

"Young girls should be tending to gardens and exploring their abilities in the arts, not worrying about such things." She would preach, "Now go on, go play with Listle." She'd laugh, pushing Daltalawein on. Listle was her best friend, but still an elf. After nearly 300 years she was only an inch taller than Tala, who was eight years old. Tala hated how time seemed to go so much faster for her. In an elf's life; there was so much time for excitement and magic. And they seemed to always know things before her. As if Galadriel wanted to keep secrets from her.

But if Galadriel refused to tell her stories of old, then who did fill her head with such thoughts?

Well that was easy. The Mirkwood elves seemed always ready to tell of how they'd defeated many an enemy. But there was one in particular that was exceptionally good at depicting battle scenes. Or any scenes for that matter.

Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Sovereign of the Green Wood.

"Tala!" someone called from below her balcony. Tala gasped, snapped from her thoughts. She ran to the balcony and struggled to lean over the edge. It was Grian, a servant-maiden who seemed to like telling Tala when she was in trouble.

"Yes Grian?" her childish voice called back.

"Aren't you ready yet! We can already see torches from royal boats coming this way. Galadriel wants you at the waters to great them with her!" she shouted up.

"I'm fixing my shoes, I'll be down in only a second!" she shouted back, crouching low to lace her slippers.

"Dresses," she mumbled to herself in disgust, rolling her eyes, "What stupid and clumsy things. Who ever invented them liked cloth a bit too much." She sighed, fixing the sleeved on her dress, while standing in front of her full length mirror. Why couldn't she wear leggings and boots, like Legolas! Why couldn't she dress like the hunters?

"Tala! Hurry up!" Grian shouted again.

"Ready!" she exclaimed, racing out of her room, down the stairs, and had just reached the bottom and was about to start sprinting full on toward the waters when she ran smack into something and fell backwards, landing on her back.

"Ow!" she grumbled sitting up. Then she looked forward and saw a pair of boots there.

"Oops." She said, slowly raising her gaze.

"Oops indeed." The person said. Her eyes landed on their face and she sprung up grinning.

"Leggy!" she exclaimed. He picked her up and she threw her arms around his neck. He set her back down and crouched to her level.

"I missed you." He said ruffling her hair. She gave a small giggle.

"Did you bring me anything?" she inquired hopefully.

"Maybe."

Her eyes lit up. "Please! Please, please, please!" she begged.

Suddenly he pulled a bow from his quiver. It was miniature compared to his, but beautifully crafted, and just her size. She sucked in a deep breath, her mouth open wide.

"Is it really for me?' she asked taking it hesitantly.

"It most certainly is." He said. The gold inscription on the bow glowed fierce. She furrowed her brow at the elven symbols.

"I can't read this, what does it say?" she asked, studying the inscription closely.

"It says, Aierea Mellonea. Short friend." He said, rising, and taking her hand. She looked up at him, admiration in her eyes.

"Legolas?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Is Mithrandir here? I'd much like seeing him."

"I don't believe so; last I heard he was visiting Harlindon."

"Harlindon, eh? You would hope so, wouldn't you young elf?" Gandalf appeared, seemingly out of no where.

"Mithrandir!" She exclaimed, running to him.

She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"Oh, Tala! Look at you! You're sprouting higher than the hobbits."

"They all say I grow fast. I don't like it very much." She said. He then knelt before her.

"Well, maybe this will cheer you up. I brought you something, but you must keep it a secret." he said.

"Oh, I can do that!" she said, excited.

Gandalf smiled at Legolas and he returned it, eager himself to see what the wizard had brought. From behind his back he pulled out a bundle tied with string. Tala got on her knees and quickly undid it. She unfolded a pair of boots! Lace up suede boots just like the ones Legolas wore to go hunting.

She got up and threw her arms around the old man.

"Oh Mithrandir, it's the most wonderful thing! Thank-you! Thank-you both so much!" she beamed.

"Tala I told you to hurry up, now let's…go…" Grian stopped when she saw the company the young girl was keeping. Tala gave a small hiccup and ran around to Legolas, hiding behind his legs. Gandalf rose and the servant-maid stood there with them both staring at her, almost challenging her to take Tala forcefully with them there. Meanwhile, Tala peaked out from behind Legolas. Again, she hiccupped.

"We will come when we are ready." Gandalf informed her. She bowed deep and low before him.

"My deepest apologies, Mithrandir. And Your Highness." She bowed toward Legolas as well.

Grian left disappointed and embarrassed. Tala blushed, and hiccupped again, then looked up at Legolas grinning.

"And you!" Legolas laughed, "Let's get you to the grounds before we all get in trouble and they decide to cook us for dinner." He chuckled, helping her onto his back for a piggy-back ride.

"Faster! Faster!" she giggled as they reached the waters, "Ya know, you make a really bad horse. Snow-Jer could beat you any day!" she said sliding down. She crossed her arms and craned her neck back to look at him.

"I bet he could, Snow-Jer has four legs and I only have these two, I would hope he goes faster than me." He said sitting down at the table with a chuckle.

"Honestly Legolas, when are you going to stop amusing that child?" Thranduil said discretely, sipping from his goblet.

"Father, you act as though she poses a threat. She's just a mortal child."

"Lady Galadriel says she's most unusual. I'm told she wishes to go into battle. Is this true?"

"Certainly, she's very ambitious. She only wants to prove herself is all. I reckon she'll grow out of it."

Thranduil nodded thoughtfully, "But still, little can be said when one is only seven years of coming into the world."

"Eight."

"Pardon?"

"She's eight Father. And don't worry so much. Perhaps that's the reason I venture off with the child so much, her buoyancy." He said looking back at the smiling child.