The 'Life in Imladris' Arc – stories focused on the inhabitants of Rivendell.
Deception and Heartbreak

Disclaimer: This fictional story is completely made up for fun and no profit is made from it. Any similarities to real events or other writings is purely coincidental.

Please leave me a review or constructive criticism. I want to be a better writer. Thank yous are at the end of the chapter.

Chapter Four

Legolas shouldered his quiver and picked up his bow, determined to find the archery range. Archery had always been a source of comfort for him and he spent long hours at the range in Greenwood, practicing with his trainer or by himself and perfecting the techniques taught to him or discovered on his own. Because of this, Legolas had advanced more quickly through the archery ranks, now working with the novice warriors though he was only twenty-eight years old. Unfortunately, he was not as passionate about the sword and his skills there were on par with those of his own age group.

The Lady Celebrían had finally left him alone and though he appreciated her concern and actually found himself taking comfort in her presence, she still did not calm him like the persistent twang of his bowstring.

Using his natural ability as a wood-elf to move silently and covertly, he managed to exit his room and sneak down the hall, heading towards the main foyer where he knew he could exit the building and eventually find the training grounds. He remembered the direction the stable hand had led Iest in and assumed that the training grounds would not be far from the horses' home.

He hid behind a statue in the main hall when he sensed the presence of another elf and saw a dark haired adult hurrying past, holding a stack of parchments. He recognized the elf from the day before when he had arrived, but could not remember his name. Once the hall was clear, he continued towards the main entrance. From there, he easily found the archery ranges, hidden away beyond the pasture next to a small tributary of the Bruinen. Unfortunately, a group of warriors was already there, practicing their archery. With a sigh, Legolas decided he could wait.

His dark green and brown clothes blended in perfectly with the dense foliage around the field so he could watch them practice without being seen himself. He noticed immediately that the tall, blond elf who wore dark blue and silver colors of some long forgotten realm was trying to teach the younger elves a new style of shooting. Legolas silently drew an arrow and placed it to his bow as the blond was showing the others. Immediately, though the hold was somewhat awkward for his small hands, he could tell that when fired, the arrow would fly with much power and probably have an arched path that was difficult to discern when it was barreling towards you, making it hard to dodge.

A hour later the warriors finished and the blond leader bid them farewell. Only when Legolas was sure that all had parted and would not be returning soon, he crept from his hiding place and approached the targets. He pulled off his cloak, as the afternoon sun was warm, and laid it down beside him. He readjusted his quiver on his back and then drew an arrow, placing it on his bow like the blond had shown his warriors. Upon release, the arrow shot from the bow, traveling high but then suddenly dropping from the sky. It fell short of the target.

"Aim higher," Legolas told himself, drawing another arrow. This time his arrow managed to hit the target, but it was not centered in the bull's-eye. Annoyed, he drew again, shifting his stance slightly to the left. With a deep breath, he focused again and fired. His arrowed landed closer to the center but dropped below it. Again, Legolas adjusted his stance and tried again. He would not give up until the sun set or he had perfected the shot.

If he had only had his bow with him, he might have been able to save Merilië, his nanny and surrogate mother, when they had been attacked within his rooms just a few weeks ago. He had not even been able to attend her funeral, as Thranduil had sent him to Imladris the morning after that horrible night. He missed her terribly, but oddly had not been able to shed a tear over her. He felt as if his emotions were locked within him, under a mask of calm and control. He wanted to cry but he found he could not. He hadn't cried over his mother when she died, so what right did he have to cry over the one who was not his mother? He ignored the fact that he had only been a month old when the queen died suddenly.

Again and again he fired, trying to distract himself from the nightmarish images that plagued him… watching the jerk of Merilië's body as the assassin twisted the dagger in her bosom, the spread of blood beneath her as she died upon his bedroom floor, the assassin advancing on him, whispering hateful words and then disappearing through his window into the night just before the guards exploded into his room, summoned by his frightened screams.

Glorfindel scowled, finally remembering that he had left his gloves at the archery field, having removed them while instructing the novices. With a sigh, he blew out the lantern in his small office located in the weapons building. He exited the building, heading towards the archery field to retrieve his gloves before returning to the Last Homely House for the evening meal.

The familiar sound of arrows thudding against the wooden targets echoed down to him and with a confused frown, Glorfindel wondered who was practicing. He had sent all of his young warriors home and most of the older warriors were on patrol or hunting for the feast.

He came around the bend to see a half-pint elf firing green-fletched arrows from a junior's bow. For a moment he watched the child, who he immediately identified as the prince of Mirkwood, not by sight, but merely the fact that only Mirkwood residents dressed in the colors of the forest. It surprised him that no one attended the prince, meaning he must have snuck out on his own.

"You have some skill with a bow," Glorfindel spoke, revealing his presence. Legolas spun and faced him, looking as a rabbit caught between a fox and a rock cliff. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking comically like a goldfish. He reminded Glorfindel somewhat of Lindir when the minstrel had first arrived in Imladris. His heart clenched painfully as he thought of the younger elf and he nearly missed the prince's hesitant answer.

"It is my weapon of choice."

"Greenwood warriors are known for their skill with a bow. It is much safer for them to hunt from the trees than on the ground where they are at an equal advantage to their foe," Glorfindel said, walking towards the still startled looking elfling.

"That is true," Legolas responded. His weapons trainer had often schooled his students on the importance of being able to find an advantage over the orcs and other evil creatures who threatened Greenwood's borders.

"Do all elflings in Greenwood demonstrate such proficiency with the bow at such a tender age?" Glorfindel questioned, taking a seat on the soft grass so that he did not tower over the child, but rather Legolas looked down at him now.

"I practice hard," Legolas informed him.

"It is good to practice," the older elf smiled.

"Pardon me, sir, but I do not know you," Legolas spoke, eyeing the balrog-slayer with distrust.

"My apologies. I am Glorfindel of Gondolin, the commander of Imladris' troops."

"You are Glorfindel?" Legolas exclaimed.

"I am," Glorfindel laughed. "You look doubtful."

"I suppose you are not as I envisioned."

"And what did you imagine?"

"I do not know," Legolas sighed. "Many are not whom they first appear to be."

"You speak as if you have some experience with deceivers," Glorfindel said carefully. Elrond had briefed him and Erestor on the reason for Legolas' stay with them and Glorfindel had been shocked and deeply disgusted that any elf, Sindar, Silvan, or Noldor, could commit such a crime.

"I have," Legolas responded sadly.

"I am sorry to hear that. Now, tell me, how did our guest of honor come to find himself alone, so far from the main house?"

"I wanted to be alone," Legolas replied haughtily. "I do not pretend to be ignorant of the feelings the Noldor harbor for the other nations of elves."

"Has any here played you a cruel card?"

"I felt their looks yesterday and I sense their scorn today," Legolas answered. "Only the Lady Celebrían has treated me differently and for her I am thankful."

"I am sorry your reception here has been less than welcoming," Glorfindel said honestly. "I hope you will eventually look upon me as one who treats you equally, as well. Now, answer me this, child, are you as advanced with the sword as you are the bow?"

tbc…

please review.

Thank you:
Seeing-spots – I've always imagined that Legolas was quite precocious as a child. He probably had a rather serious childhood. I never even thought of Lindir dumping Elrohir in the river… what a good idea! Lol, reading that made me laugh. The twins are little buggers sometimes.

Arian – I'm glad you really liked it. Thank you for your review.