A little bit later than last time, but still on time. I've actually read through it this time so I think I caught most of the mistakes I missed in writing (please note most). Also, I haven't been able to find any announcement from banning review responses and I found the original email and, providing none of you tell on me (g), I'm going to venture to respond to your reviews until I'm specifically told otherwise, provided your comments prompt comment. Whoo. Oh wait—I have a livejournal account (that I never use, ever) and that was suggested as a way to get responses to you guys since flips out, and if you guys like that suggestion, I'll do that instead of risking suspension of my posting privileges.

Alright now, they're at the bottom, for those of you who wish to pretend they don't exist. Lol.

Chapter 3 – Mind of a Child

"Oh," Estel answered. "Thank you."

He barely noticed as the elf nodded and walked away. He was still staring at the place where his brothers had disappeared. The knowledge that Elladan and Elrohir had gone off with someone else while they were supposed to be playing with him had finally sunk in.

Normally, he would have followed them and asked if he could play too, but now he was not sure he was allowed. The twins had been going on hunts a lot lately—staying away from home for long periods of time. They had missed his last two birthdays, and now they chose to play with someone else over him.

'Prince of Mirkwood.'

He had heard of Mirkwood. It was a long ways away over the mountains and dark things lived there. And he knew the wood-elves lived there, and that they were fierce warriors. Did his brothers want to spend time with another warrior like themselves?

The boy glanced down at the bow he still held in his hand. It was small, only half as big as he was, and Elladan's and Elrohir's were much larger. He had only glimpsed Prince Legolas' bow from a distance, but he knew the wood-elf's bow would be at least as big as the twins'. All the warriors had bigger bows than he did. And swords. . . .

He looked at his sword still strapped to his waist and ran his finger lightly over the hilt. No one else carried a wooden sword, either. Everyone else had steel swords that flashed in the sunlight and rang like bells when struck. His only made a dull thunk. He frowned slightly as he thought of how inferior his weapons were compared to his brothers and their friend.

And he was always being told he was young. Too young for this and too young for that. All the others elves were so very much older than he was. Maybe Elladan and Elrohir had decided they were tired of playing with a little baby.

Or maybe—and this thought hurt the most—maybe they had decided he was too different. He had always known he was different than his family, known they had pointed ears while his were round, known that the cold did not effect them but made him shiver, known that he got sick while they never did. He knew in the vague way of a child that he would get old and die while his family would live forever, and that he could not see as far nor hear as well or walk as quietly as they could.

Before, he would not have said it mattered. But now . . . now he could not help but think it did. Why else would Elladan and Elrohir abandon him when they were playing a game? His bottom lip trembled on the verge of tears. Didn't they love him anymore?

His thirst forgotten, Estel charged up the porch stairs and through the front doors, not caring that they struck the walls and did not close completely behind him. The boom of them hitting the walls were lost to his ears as he started up the staircase to the second floor. Tears clawed at his throat, scratching and itching, but they did not yet gather in his eyes.

At the door to his Ada's study, he paused. Ada was busy; he had said so this morning, and he was not to bother him when he was busy. But his fear and need overcame his caution, and the little boy quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside, the fletchings of his arrows scraping the wood and causing the elf lord to look up.

"Ada?" he asked uncertainly, half-hiding behind the door.

Elrond looked at him, then smiled reassuringly and beckoned the little one forward. "What is it, my son?" he asked.

Estel abandoned the door and shot across the room. The elf sat back and was only slightly surprised when the boy climbed into his lap. He made no comment and merely wrapped his arms lightly around the sweaty child, waiting for the young one to speak.

The child's hands found one of his father's. He had been so busy running up the stairs, his thoughts so jumbled, that he had got here without quite knowing what he wanted to know, or how to ask it without being told what his ada wanted him to know. He knew Ada could make him feel better, but he did not want to feel better. He wanted to know the truth. Somehow, he did not feel they were one and the same.

Elrond frowned slightly as the child did not speak immediately, busy playing with the fingers of his left hand. He lifted his other hand and stroked it through the boy's hair before settling it back around him. "What is wrong, little one?"

The young face looked up at him seriously, large silver eyes dark. "Can I be a Prince, Ada?"

"A prince?" the elf lord questioned in surprise. "Why do you want to be a prince?"

"Don't people like Princes better than non-Princes?"

"People like other people because of them," Elrond answered with a smile, "not because of their titles."

"Then I can't be a Prince?"

Elrond hugged the boy. "You can be anything you like, my son."

Estel nodded and looked back down, a frown catching at his lips and pinching his small brow. That was not the answer he wanted, nor even the answer Ada wanted to give, he could tell. It was one of those no-answers Ada gave when he thought the real ones would hurt his feelings.

He looked back up. "I can be anything?" he asked. Ada nodded slightly. "Can I be an Elf?"

The elf lord's expression seemed to freeze, then he frowned slightly and asked, "Why don't you want to be a Man?"

But that was not what the child wanted to talk about. His ada never avoided a question when the answer was 'yes.' He frowned, scrunching his brow. "Can't I be an Elf?"

Elrond stroked his cheek, a regretful smile on his lips. "That choice is not given to you, my son. You must be as you were born."

He bit his lip to hold back the tears that wanted to escape his eyes. Ada would hold him if they escaped, and he did not want to be held. "Do you love me, Ada?"

"With all my heart."

"Even though I am Man?"

"Estel, that you are a Man is not something to be ashamed of, and I do not love you despite it. I love you because you are you, and nothing can change that. Do you understand?"

He nodded. And he did, a little; he understood that Ada wanted him to be proud of who he was and that he loved him. The latter he knew at least as much by the fact that Ada had not scolded him when he disturbed him, had not tried to make him go away. He wanted to spend time with him, but lordly duties kept him away.

"Do you want to help me with my paperwork?" Elrond asked, remembering that Glorfindel was away and thinking his son, disturbed by the disruption in his normal routine, might want to spend time with someone he was close to.

But Estel shook his head. "Unh-uh. The twins got home this morning. I'll go play with them."

"Alright." Elrond kissed the little one atop his head before letting him down. "Have fun."

"I will, Ada." But when the human child left the study and closed the door, he did not make for the archery fields. He wanted to talk to someone else. He was still disturbed by his brothers' abandonment and sought an explanation that fit with what he knew.

He knew, for instance, that whenever he got tired of a toy, he put it aside to play with a different one. And Ada had said that people liked people for themselves. Did that mean Elladan and Elrohir did not like him anymore?

Estel bit his lip again as he walked down the stairs. He thought he should ask the twins, but he did not want to. Considering it filled him with dread. What if they said they didn't? What if they told him he was right and they didn't like him anymore and they had found a new friend that was even better? What then?

Tears trembled in his eyes at that thought. He liked the twins. They were his brothers. Always before they would play games with him when they got back from their hunts. What had changed? Was it because he was older? It had never occurred to him that getting older could take things away as well as give him new things. Would he lose his brothers if he got older? If so, he did not want to be older anymore. He wanted things back the way they were before. His brothers had liked him then.

But Legolas is even older than I am, Estel reminded himself, and they like him.

So, confused, he set out for the one person besides Ada who knew everything. He wandered past the kitchens without remembering his thirst or hunger and past the Hall of Fire and came, after a short while, to another study, this one occupied by Lord Erestor. He knocked softly.

"Come in," a very muffled voice called.

Hesitantly, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open so he could glance around the edge. "Lord Erestor?"

The advisor looked up from his papers at the hesitant voice and saw Estel hovering uncertainly in the doorway. He put his quill down and smiled pleasantly at the boy. "Yes, little one?"

"Can I ask you some questions?"

His mind darted to his work, to the things left undone, but they were few and time was not so pressed that they could not wait a few minutes. "Come here," he invited and the child stepped carefully across the room, his steps those of someone trying to make as little noise and disruption as possible. His smile widened as the other stopped in front of him. "What would you like to know?"

But Estel hesitated. Now that he was here, he doubted Erestor was the person to come to. It was such a silly thing to ask of someone so important. Yet when he looked in the advisor's eyes, he saw only friendliness, so he decided to press on. "Do you know Prince Legolas?"

"Of Mirkwood?" Erestor questioned in surprise. The boy nodded. "Aye, I do."

"What's he like?"

"Well. . . ." This was not a question he was asked often, and that it was a young, impressionable child asking threw him even more. What do you tell a boy the tender age of six? "He's kind and loyal, but wary of people he does not know."

"How long has he been friends with 'Dan and 'Ro?"

"A long time," Erestor answered. "But they haven't seen each other for many, many years. Why do you ask, little one?"

"He's here."

"Legolas?"

"And the twins," Estel added after nodding.

The advisor leaned forward slightly. "Why aren't you out playing with them?"

The child half-shrugged and looked down. "They wanted to play catch-up."

Erestor caught his chin and made him look back up. "I'm sorry today hasn't been much fun, little one. But if it helps, your Ada said he was going to give you riding lessons this afternoon."

Estel smiled and nodded, then backed up because he felt their conversation was over.

"Don't get in trouble!" the elder being called.

"I won't," the little boy answered faithfully. Then he made good his escape and stood outside in the hallway, unsure where to go or what he wanted to do. He glanced down each side of the hallway sadly.

There was no one else to talk to, no one else he wanted to talk to. And why would he talk to them? Erestor had told him that he and Legolas were apparently a lot alike, and that the twins wanted to play with Legolas because they had not seen him in a while. He wondered how many years "many" was. For an elf to think it was a long time, he imagined it had to be a really long time. Ten years, maybe; that would explain why he had not ever met the Mirkwood prince before.

But even knowing (or trying to know—he was having a little difficulty convincing himself that he knew) the twins only liked Legolas because they had not seen him in so long did not make him feel better. He had not seen them in a while either, and they had missed his birthday. Brothers weren't supposed to miss each other's birthdays. He never missed theirs and he promised himself petulantly that he never would.

Estel started wandering slowly down the hallway, watching his feet as they shuffled across the ground and trying really hard not to cry as he remembered more fully all his brothers had forgotten.

More than just his birthday, they had forgotten to wish him a happy birthday, and they had forgotten his present. They had missed last birthday, too, but they hadn't forgotten to greet him or give him his present. Maybe they had decided they didn't like him anymore after all.

That was not a thought he liked, and he scowled at the ground. Why had stupid Legolas had to come to Rivendell? They had been perfectly happy without him.

With the mental agility and selectiveness of a child, Estel conveniently forgot it was his brothers who had wronged him and focused his anger on the stranger—on the wood-elf from another realm who he felt had stolen his brothers from him. Making up his mind, he headed quickly for the archery pitch.

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scotchleaf: You can laugh at Estel's misery? For shame. (g) Updated soon, as requested.

HarryEstel: I shall make no comment on Estel and Legolas' meeting. I fear if I do, I shall disappoint you with expectations.

Viggomaniac: lol. I had fun with part. Trying to think like a child is interesting and, I think, good for me. Hehe. If it makes you feel any better, I don't quite know where the story is going either. Or I do, but I don't know how to explain it without giving everything away. Hannon le!

Bubble-Sheep: No, didn't get it, but I'm glad you reviewed again. And barring natural disasters, I believe I shall. Luckily, all the hurricanes are gone for a while longer. Lol.

Angel: Thank you. It was probably my mood when I wrote it, too. More conducive to disturbing thoughts, yes? (g) I can't wait to see what you make of where this is going. This chapter will probably help a lot in that regard.