Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkein's creations (though I wish I could). Sartarian, Calarian, Eldran, Calrus, Beltha and Nälron are mine though. (my Preciousesss)

Laiquendi- I know. Sartarian is really awful! Don't worry though for I will spill all very soon. I feel really sorry for our dear Elven Prince (sob,sob) but I'll try to make it a bit better for him.

Legolas glanced around his cave with a fresh sense of determination. He was ready to fight for justice, regardless of Sartarian's strengths. Nothing would stop him as he tried to get back what had been so cruelly snatched away from him.

He turned his mind back thinking of Nälron, his old teacher who had taught him so many things. Nälron was a mortal ranger, but taught him so much about survival and fighting, that Legolas knew he would be eternally indebted to his mentor. His eyes glazed over slightly as he started to remember one of his lessons.

"Legolas! You are letting me get too you far too quickly! I am fifty years old and can still beat you. It should be the other way around!" shouted Nälron.

"You are right again as always," said Legolas, dropping himself onto a flat boulder nearby, "but, I still don't get it!"

Nälron glanced at him through his dark, wavy hair before saying, "Legolas. You need to understand something about fighting. You don't just walk into a fight brandishing a sword. It will get you killed. Right."

Nälron said getting himself ino a standing position, "Remember this lesson and learn it well. 'Never underestimate your enemy. They will be waiting for you at all times to make a move and expose a weakness. Even the most drunken mortal can still cause harm. If you know your strength and that of your enemy's, you need not fear the results of all the battles put together'."

"My Nälron, you must have taken quite a breath there!" said Legolas jokingly. Nälron looked somewhat less than amused.

"Did you even listen to me?" he shouted.

"Yes, I did, and I am ready." Legolas brushed himself off and immediately Nälron attacked him with his blade.

That was the first night that Legolas managed to win the duel the two had going between them. He felt the first flush of success and knew he was that little step closer to avenging the deaths of his brothers and his father's.

Legolas sighed and looked out at the glittering constellations.Nälron had died ten years previously, being very old of age.

Legolas would never forget his mentor and friend who had been with him since he had fled Calrus' house and had stuck with him through thick or thin teaching him all that he needed to know. Nälron's last words reverberated through his head.

"Legolas. Find yourself then find your enemy. Time needs to heal the wounds that have been poisoned." Nälron sighed before slipping away from Arda.

He thought over these last few words very carefully and realised that he was ready emotionally and physically to take on the murderer of his family. Whilst he was at it, he would also take revenge for Mirkwood.

All the reports that he had heard over the last couple of years had shown a Mirkwood in trouble. Sartarian was a cruel dictator and some of the elves that had escaped his cruel tyranny were taken immediately to Rivendell for Lord Elrond to heal, such were their wounds that ran deep. Some didn't survive.

Legolas blinked away the tears that threatened. He had watched them scramble across the mountains desperately trying to reach Rivendell. One of the few that didn't survive had been a former childhood friend of his. His name eluded him but Legolas still felt the raw wound that another elf had fallen under the mercy of the murderous elf.

He stared ahead sweeping his gaze across Mirkwood. Now was the time to move. He strapped his quiver onto his back and hung his sword by his side, mounting Arfeel, his new steed, he galloped him down the mountainside and into Mirkwood for the first time in over 80 years.