Warning: this chapter contains spoilers for The Hobbit.

Chapter Three: The Qualifying Shot

Estel was pulling a clean tunic over his head when he heard a knock upon the door to the guest suite. "Come in," he called as he quickly put his plate back on the breakfast tray, assuming it was a servant come to take the tray back to the kitchens.

"Good morning, Estel."

The human whirled around in surprise, nearly losing his balance as he did so. "Legolas?"

The elf-prince grinned. "Not entirely ready for visitors, I see."

Estel hoped he wasn't blushing. He was shoeless, his tunic was rumpled, and he hadn't combed his hair yet. "It is a bit early to be ready yet," he protested, straightening his tunic.

"But the day is so beautiful," Legolas commented, throwing the shutters on the windows open to let the morning sun stream in.

"It would be more beautiful if I could have slept more," Estel grumbled, crouching down on hands and knees to retrieve a shoe from under the bed.

"Why should you sleep when morning has dawned so bright and clear?"

Shoe clenched in his fist, Estel backed out from under the bed to half-glare up at the elf. "You sound just like Elrohir," he complained.

"I always knew he was the smart one," Legolas laughed, leaning casually against the windowsill. "Where are your brothers?"

"They said they had to go be evaluated by the Archery Master," Estel explained, sitting on the bed to pull his shoes on. "Someone about being placed in a class or validating their skills."

"Ah, of course," the prince nodded. "I forgot."

"Forgot what?" Estel asked. "They didn't really explain what they were going to do."

"You know this is the first time the tournament has been open to outsiders," Legolas began. "Well, the Archery Master and the other judges need to make sure that everyone who competes tomorrow is skilled enough for the tournament to be safe. They know the skill levels of the archers of Mirkwood, but they have to take today to evaluate those from other realms."

"I see," the human smiled. "They do not want someone competing who has never held a bow before."

"Exactly. In Mirkwood, the archers have to have completed their training before they can compete in the tournament. It would not be fair for archers-in-training if unskilled contestants from other realms were allowed in the tournament."

"Have you completed your training?" Estel asked, realizing that no one had mentioned if the young prince was going to compete.

Legolas shrugged. "Elves in Mirkwood generally complete their training at about their five hundredth year," he replied evasively.

"And how old are you?"

"Four hundred and eighty-three."

"Ah," Estel nodded, digging through his pack for a comb. At least that meant he would have someone to watch the tournament with. "How long will the evaluations take?"

"Could be several hours," Legolas explained. "Depends on how many other participants there are and what time your brothers got down there."

Sighing, Estel flung the comb aside, his hair at least partially tamed. "I suppose this means I have to wait here, then."

"Or I could take you through another wing of the palace," Legolas offered. "We did not have time to see the entire palace last night before dinner."

Estel furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "But I thought you would have duties as prince?"

"Not today," the prince shook his head. "Today my father told me to look after my friends from Imladris. He has assigned goodwill ambassadors to all the contestants from other realms, but he thought I would want to look after the three of you personally."

"Great!" Estel beamed, jumping to his feet. "Where do we begin?"

Legolas smiled, clearly affected by the human's enthusiasm, as the two made their way out of the chamber and down the hall. "I could show you the wing with the royal rooms," he suggested, his smile growing a touch more mischeivous. "Or, if you like, I could take you back to the throne room and we could watch my father hold court today."

Estel made a face. "No thank you. I would rather not run into your brother this early in the day."

Legolas grimaced, and Estel wondered if he might have said something wrong.

"Belegdur is not that bad," Legolas said quietly, after the pair had been walking for a few moments.

Estel stared at the prince. "But my brothers have told me stories," he said slowly. "All about how much he hates other races and how he treats elves from other realms."

"I know," Legolas replied, sadness creeping into his voice. "And likely everything Elrohir has told you is true—though Elladan has the tendency to exaggerate. But Belegdur is not a bad elf, not really. He is opinionated and stubborn and could use some sense knocked into him at times, but there are days when he is loyal and level-headed and one of my father's strongest supporters."

The human studied his friend carefully. Was Legolas hiding something? "Is there something more?"

Legolas sighed, slowly meeting Estel's eyes. The young man was shocked by the depth of pain and sadness in the prince's gaze. "My brother has...moods."

"Moods?"

"He has days like yesterday, when he finds fault with everyone around him, and he has days where the world could not be brighter to him. He has been that way for as long as I can remember, but since the battle it has gotten worse. His dark days are darker and closer together."

The prince looked away, fighting back his grief. "Those days I cannot seem to do anything right."

Estel hesitated, then put a comforting hand on the prince's arm. "I am sure it is not your fault," he said gently.

"I sometimes wonder if I were better, if I behaved in a manner more worthy of a prince if he would be happier," Legolas continued as though he had not heard Estel. "Maybe if I was not such a failure he wouldn't fall into his dark moods so easily."

"Legolas," Estel tightened his grip on the elf and shook him ever so slightly, just enough to get his attention. "It is not your fault...it cannot be."

Legolas met Estel's gaze, deep blue eyes suspiciously damp. "How can you be sure?" he whispered.

Estel sighed and pushed the elf into a nearby room where they could have some privacy, hoping it was unoccupied. It turned out to be a small study, dusty and empty except for a few books on the shelves, a pair of moth-eaten armchairs, and a tapestry on one wall. "How could it be your fault?" he asked, sitting in one of the chairs and automatically picking at the stuffing that was bursting out of one arm.

"How could it not be?" Legolas retorted, gingerly perching cross-legged in the other chair. "Everything I do displeases him...and he tells me so."

"Have you spoken with your father about this?"

"Many times," Legolas replied with a harsh-sounding laugh. "He is as much at a loss as I am. The healers can find nothing wrong with my brother except that 'perhaps' he has not quite recovered from the battle."

"What battle?" Estel asked, hearing his friend mention it a second time.

"The Battle of Five Armies," the elf explained. "It was four years ago. My father and Belegdur rode out at the head of a host of elves to investigate tidings that the dragon that plagued the lands above Long Lake was dead. The men of Laketown, whose town had been destroyed, sent for help and my people went to aid them. They ended up besieging the dwarves in Lonely Mountain—the mountain where the dwarves live now."

Estel nodded. "I think my father told me some of that story. The dwarves were trying to get their treasure back from a dragon?"

"Correct. Well," Legolas continued, "just when the three armies—men, elves, and dwarves—were about to go into battle the wizard Mithrandir, who had been helping the dwarves, appeared and told them a fourth army was coming; an army of goblins. So the three armies joined forces to battle their common foe."

"Who was the fifth army?"

"The eagles. The Lord of the Eagles was a good friend of Mithrandir's and had helped him and the dwarves before. The eagles came just in time, just as the goblins had encircled the allied armies and were about to destroy them."

Legolas stood from the chair, stretching his legs and walking over to study the tapestry. "Belegdur was a captain in my father's army," he said quietly. "In the battle the elves under his command were thrown in with a group of men from Laketown, who were led by a man named Calen. During the battle Calen decided to drive their group into the side of the goblin army and try to strike at the leader. Belegdur disagreed but had no choice but to follow Calen into battle as the man rushed off, leading his men and many of my brother's elves.

"They were slaughtered." The elf turned back to face Estel, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes grew grieved. "None of the men survived, and of the fifteen elves under my brother's command only three returned alive. One succumbed his wounds two days later, and another left for the Havens within months of the battle. My brother himself was gravely injured and nearly died."

Estel let his shoulders slump, suddenly understanding part of Belegdur's prejudice. "I guess I cannot blame him if he does not like me too much," he said in a small voice.

Legolas smiled kindly at this remark. "It is nothing against you, Estel. I believe that there might come a time when he can release some of his hatred for your kind and realize that not all humans are like Calen."

"I hope so," the human said softly.

"Belegdur lost many close friends that day," Legolas continued, his voice turning grave. "Among them was an elf who was betrothed to my sister Tirá. She has never held anything against Belegdur or the other elves and men who survived the battle but my brother cannot let it go. He has refused her forgiveness and that has made him bitter.

"I am not trying to make excuses for his behavior," the prince added. "I just hate for you to face such prejudice from my own family without knowing why."

Estel nodded quietly, looking down and studying the intricate dust patterns on the floor. "I do understand," he whispered. "I have seen prejudice from other elves in Imladris. They don't all trust my kind...it might not be fair but it is something I have had to grow used to."

He was startled when a pair of slim hands dropped onto his shoulders as the prince crouched in front of him. "Never grow used to it, Estel," Legolas said fiercely. "It is something to fight, not something to be resigned to."

The young human looked into the steady gaze of the elf, feeling a kinship he couldn't explain. Legolas smiled and sat back in his armchair, folding one leg under. "Not all of my family share Belegdur's views," he said after a moment, as though reading the fears in Estel's mind. "Of my sisters only Melyannawen holds his same hatred for humans."

"The rest of your family?" Estel asked, remembering that he had only met Legolas, Belegdur, and Thranduil.

"You know who Aranion and Belegdur are," Legolas began. "Luinlothiel, my eldest sister, is one of my father's advisor in my mother's stead until Aranion takes the throne, and Eldawen is a diplomat and is often away visiting other realms. They were the two you saw in the throne room yesterday. Tirá divides her time between the palace and the elven settlement near Dale, where Meluial and her husband live. Melyannawen is a lady of the court, and Tinlith has been studying under the healers in Lothlorien."

Estel shook his head in bewilderment. "And will they all be at the tournament tomorrow?

The prince grinned. "But of course. Where else would the royal family be but Mirkwood for the tournament?"

The young man fought down a groan. "Am I supposed to meet them all?" he asked.

Legolas laughed. "Do not worry," he assured Estel. "I will help you, and you will probably never see them except at the tournament."

The human nodded thoughtfully. He remained quiet for a few moments then finally let his curiousity show. "So you are still in training?" he asked.

Shrugging, Legolas smiled. "Why do you want to know?"

"I was just wondering if you had ever gone on any patrols...my brothers have told me stories of the dangers of the forest," he added, hoping his tone was not too hopeful.

"Oh," the prince grinned, shifting in his seat so both legs were crossed. "I have, but not as a warrior. In my training I was really only allowed to accompany some patrols to observe."

Estel's eyes sparkled with interest. "Have you ever see any battles?"

"Not really," Legolas replied, chuckling at the human's disappointment. "I did see a spider once."

"Really? What happened? Was it big?"

"Well," the elf began, his voice growing in enthusiasm at the eagerness of his audience. "I was with a patrol led by Luinlothiel's husband, Gilfaroth, when he took us down a side path to investigate rumors of spider activity. We hadn't gone far when one of the warriors nearly ran into a giant spiderweb that was stretched across the path..."

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The next morning Estel arrived at the archery grounds with his brothers for the opening ceremonies of the tournament. It was tradition for the tournament to begin with a round of qualifying shots, even though all the archers were skilled enough to compete, followed by welcoming words from the king and the Master of Archery.

"Where is Legolas?" Estel asked, craning his neck to see through the elves gathered at the line. He'd been allowed to stay with his brothers provided he didn't get in the way.

"I do not know," Elrohir replied without looking up from stringing his bow. "Is he sitting with his family?"

Elladan stood, surveying the elves who had gathered to watch the tournament. "I see Thranduil," he commented. "Crown Prince Aranion and his family. Next to them is that orc Belegdur and a blonde elf-maid who could be Princess Tirá or Princess Tinlith, I cannot tell from here. I do not see Legolas, though."

"Maybe he got lost in the crowd," Elrohir suggested.

"He is not a little elfling anymore, 'Ro," Elladan retorted.

"Ah, you are right!" Elrohir slapped his forehead as though he'd forgotten. "How many times has he reminded us of that?"

"This visit? Seventeen."

Estel just shook his head, standing on a nearby log to try to see over the heads of the elves around them. He spotted a few blond heads, but they were all among the other archers preparing for the qualifying round and he did not think any of them could be Legolas. Where could the prince be?

A pair of judges began calling elves to the firing line by groups of ten. The elves would stand on the line and fire a single shot at the target at the other end of the field, which the judges would then score to verify that each elf qualified for the tournament. Estel watched the proceedings with interest, even though the elves merely had to hit the target to qualify. He cheered with the crowd when his brothers qualified—Elrohir hitting the edge of the first ring outside the bull's-eye and Elladan striking the second.

He was disappointed that Legolas was not there. Estel frowned as he sat on the log at the edge of the field, watching Elladan and Elrohir joked with one of the Mirkwood archers who had been in their group. He wondered why the prince had failed to come when Legolas had seemed excited about the tournament the day before. But more than that, he had promised to come and watch the tournament with Estel...had he forgotten somehow?

Estel sighed and turned his attention back to the archery field as the judges began calling the final group forward to qualify. His brothers had told him that there would be eighty elves in the tournament, but he had not realized how many that would be. He listened idly to the names of the final competitors, wishing he had paid more attention to who was from which realm. It seemed that Mirkwood, logically, had more competitors than most of the other realms combined but he wondered which realm was second.

"Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood."

Estel's head jerked up in surprise as the judge called the final name. He jumped to his feet and tugged on Elladan's arm. "What is going on?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard above therest of the elves, who appeared as shocked as he was.

"It cannot be," Elladan was muttering. "He is to young to enter...or am I mistaken?"

"I thought he was, but..." Elrohir shook his head in astonishment. "Look at the king."

The human followed his brother's gaze. Thranduil was sitting forward, the stoicism of his expression melting away to surprise, then unmistakable pride. Estel slid between his brothers to get a better view of the line. Sure enough, there on the end was Legolas, looking suddenly small and young compared to the other archers.

"Archers ready!" one of the judges called.

"Fire!"

His face a mask of concentration, Legolas drew back his arrow and released it. Estel watched with bated breath as the prince's bolt flew down the field to the target...

...and embedded itself directly in the center of the bull's-eye.

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