AN: I knew I shouldn't have said I'd try to have this chapter up Wednesday. Hey, it's hard to write a tournament without ESPN, and it's doubly hard to write it in the secret cave where I'm currently hiding from angry mobs. But, fear not: I'm really close to finishing chapter five, so I should (keep your fingers crossed) be able to get it up beforeI leave town for Thanksgiving.
I did make a teensy change to the last chapter, changing the number of elves in the qualifying groups from eight to ten. I had to do it to simplify the tournament structure, so nothing else about the story has changed because of that.
Chapter Four: The Tournament
"So how did you do it?" Elladan asked, cornering the prince as soon as the opening ceremonies were over.
"Do what?" Legolas asked innocently.
"You know what. How did you get in the tournament?"
The prince shrugged. "I told you; the tournament is open to all Mirkwood elves who have finished their training."
"But you said you had to be five hundred to complete your training," Estel interjected, puzzled.
Legolas glanced up with a grin. "I said most finished their training at five hundred. I graduated a bit...early."
The twins and Estel stared at the young elf for a moment, then Elladan broke out in a laugh. "A bit early?" he asked, slapping Legolas on the back. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise," the prince replied, stretching his shoulders. "I didn't even know I would be able to enter the tournament for certain until yesterday."
"When did you graduate?" Elrohir asked.
"A few weeks ago," Legolas admitted. "My instructor was a bit concerned that it was too soon, but I convinced him to at least give me the final evaluation to see if I could pass. I asked him to keep it as quiet as possible until I knew if I could compete in the tournament."
"Did your father know you finished your training?"
Legolas nodded. "He witnessed the final evaluation and agreed about not announcing it yet. He didn't know it was because I was keeping my entry in the tournament a secret," he added with a grin.
"And here I thought you couldn't keep secrets from us," Elladan sighed. "Is that why you avoided us yesterday?"
"I wasn't avoiding you!" the prince protested.
"You spent all day cooped up in that study with Estel," Elrohir stated matter-of-factly. "We had no idea where the two of you went."
"We were talking and lost track of time," Estel interjected. "It was mostly my fault, I kept asking him about the stories I've heard about Mirkwood."
"Estel, we're not angry," Elrohir explained with a smile. "We're simply amazed that Legolas could keep something like this a secret, even for a day."
"He always was fairly bursting whenever he had exciting news," Elladan added. "You should see him as an elfling. One year during Yule he wanted to lock himself up in his chamber so he wouldn't be tempted to let us know what he was giving us."
Estel grinned broadly at this description of his friend. He was about to ask if his brothers had any more entertaining stories about Legolas when the prince, evidently guessing Estel's train of thought, abruptly changed the subject.
"Look, the first group of archers are about to take the field."
The human turned to follow the elf's gaze. "Why are there only ten out there?" he asked curiously. "Aren't there eighty archers in the tournament?"
"We can't fit seventy-nine on the field safely," Legolas explained. "All the participants have been divided into eight groups."
"But how does that work? How can the judges score the tournament if everyone's kept separate?" Estel asked with a frown."
"It's only for the first four rounds. The first round today reduces the number in each group to eight, and the second round cuts the number of total archers in half. Every round after the first eliminates half the archers in the tournament, and the groups are combined for the next round so there are always eight archers per group."
"What happens when there are only eight archers left?"
"Then there's only one group competing."
Estel nodded his understanding. "But—"
"That's enough questions for now, Estel," Elrohir interrupted gently. "The tournament's about to start."
"How long does each round take?" the human asked, unaware that he was disobeying his brother.
"Between a quarter-hour and half-hour," Legolas explained lightly.
Estel groaned. So it could be up to an hour before his brothers, both in the third group, had their turn on the field? And Legolas was in the last group...it was possible the prince's group wouldn't even start until after noon.
He caught Legolas looking at him. "I am sorry, Estel," the prince said quietly. "I know the first day of the tournament can be a bit boring if you're not an archer."
Not wanting to appear rude, Estel shook his head. "Oh, I'll be fine. I always enjoy watching archers."
Elladan burst out laughing. "You always were a poor liar, Estel."
"It's all right," the prince said, noticing Estel's discomfort. "My sister Meluial's husband, Brithdil, is in the first group, but after his group is finished I would be happy to entertain you while we wait for your brothers' turn on the field," Legolas offered.
"Do you have many friends in the tournament?" Estel asked, watching as Legolas pointed out brown-haired Brithdil as the third from the left.
"Only two. Ceretín's in the fifth group and Relfían's in the seventh."
"And us," Elrohir interjected, pretending to sound hurt.
"I asked about his friends," Estel countered cheekily. "I never asked about the twin thorns in his side."
Elladan was quick to drop a headlock on Estel, much as he had the first day. "You best watch your step, Little Brother," he growled playfully, "lest you and the princeling find yourselves floating down the rive to Dale."
"Quiet!" Elrohir hissed. "The archers are beginning."
Try as he might to focus, Estel found his attention waning as he watched the ten strange archers on the field. Granted, Elladan's headlock wasn't helping his attention span any and he tried to wriggle away. His brother merely tightened his grip, and Estel could just see the grin spreading across the older twin's face.
"Elladan, please let him go," Legolas asked calmly as the judges walked onto the field to score the archers. "Your father would be most displeased if you accidentally strangled his youngest son."
Estel pulled out of Elladan's grip as the elf finally let go, glowering in mock anger. "I will have my revenge on you," he promised.
"You've been saying that for nearly six years now," Elrohir commented lazily. "You'll never be able to get back at us."
"Is that so?" Legolas asked, raising one eyebrow and grinning wickedly. "Come, Estel, I believe I know something we can discuss while waiting for your brothers' turn."
Grinning, Estel followed Legolas back to the log set a distance away from the field. Estel was glad for the prince's presence, for Legolas was able to point out interesting things about the archers' performance and show Estel the differences between the styles of archery from different realms.
"What about Rivendell?" Estel asked when Legolas had finished his explanation.
"There are only three archers from Rivendell here other than your brothers," the prince replied. "I don't think they've been on the field yet."
Estel sighed, looking back at the field. "Look, it's time," he pointed, seeing the other archers filing off. He jumped up, leaving the prince to trail after him as he ran to the edge of the field. His brothers had joined the other archers on the field and were standing side by side, wearing identical expressions of concentration.
"I hope they do well," Estel whispered. "They've been practicing for months, and they're the best archers I've ever seen."
"They have a lot of competition," Legolas responded. "But I'm sure they'll be fine."
Estel bit his knuckle as his brothers drew their bows, readying for the judges to call for the first shot. "Come on, El," he muttered, not sure which one he was cheering on.
The judges called for the first shot, and Estel jumped involuntarily as ten arrows struck their targets nearly simultaneously. "How did they do?" he whispered, looking down the field but not sure of what he saw.
"The round isn't finished yet, but I believe they've done well."
The human tried to nod, tried to appear relaxed but was far too tense. He noticed, thanks to Legolas' earlier commentary on the archers in group two, that Elladan seemed a bit tense while Elrohir was slightly more relaxed. He curled his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms as his brothers fired again. This time he managed not to jump, and he actually stood still for the rest of the round—a feat which his brothers would have considered miraculous.
"How did they do?" he asked again once the round was over.
"The judges will announce it," Legolas promised. Sure enough, after the judges had evaluated the targets one approached the center of the field to announce the scores.
Estel nearly jumped for joy when he heard that Elladan had scored an eighteen out of twenty—and he literally jumped when the judge announced that Elrohir had gotten a perfect score.
"Good shooting, 'Ro," Elladan complimented his brother as they joined Estel and Legolas on the sidelines.
The human didn't say anything—all thoughts of congratulations dying on his lips as he flung his arms around his brothers, beaming with pride.
"Estel, look," Legolas interrupted the brothers' embrace and pointed back out to the field. Two of the archers had remained on it, holding their bows at the ready. "The lowest scores for the round were one sixteen and two seventeens, and because only two can be disqualified the two archers who scored seventeen have to break their tie to see which one will move on to the next round."
"How do they do that?" Estel asked.
"The judges will call for them to fire, and they will continue shooting at the targets until one scores lower than the other."
Estel frowned at this. "What about the extra points?" he asked.
"Only the points from the round are counted," Elrohir explained. "The archer who moves on will only have seventeen points going into the next round."
Elladan sighed and sat down on the ground, stretching his legs out before him. "Only five more hours until Legolas' turn!"
Elrohir rolled his eyes, dropping down next to his twin. "I think you mean five rounds."
"But it will seem like five hours," Elladan replied with a fake whine.
Legolas just laughed at the twins, perching on the old log a few feet away. "Aye, and now you have to wait—though, Elladan, I know you're not familiar with that term."
"Wait, wait," Elladan grumbled. "I only have so much patience, you know."
"I'd lend you mine if you weren't always treading on it," Elrohir interjected cheerfully.
Estel grinned, settling himself in for a wait with his brothers and his new best friend.
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Contrary to Elladan's prediction, it was less than three hours before Legolas had his turn on the field. Estel had found the wait fairly enjoyable, between the camaraderie between his brothers and the prince and hearing Legolas talk about some of the archers they saw. He'd cheered for Ceretín and Relfían with Legolas—who was slightly disappointed when Relfían was disqualified after the first round.
But now the final group was on the field. It was Legolas' turn.
Estel thought he was even more nervous watching Legolas than he had been watching his brothers. Then again, his brothers were undoubtedly more nervous than Legolas had been so maybe they were wearing off on him or something.
"I can't watch, 'Dan," Elrohir muttered. "What if he misses?"
"He won't miss," Elladan replied reassuringly. "We've known him nearly his whole life—since when does he miss a target?"
"But he's so much younger than the other archers."
"Don't worry. I have a feeling he's going to surprise everyone at this tournament."
"You and your feelings," Elrohir snorted, but Estel could tell that the younger twin felt better for his brother's words.
The judges called for the first shots. Estel bit his lip, ignoring the pain as he chewed on it. Elladan's hand on his shoulder seemed to grow heavier as the elf's fingers dug into his skin. He stood frozen as though time itself had stopped flowing, all focus on the slender blonde on the opposite side of the field.
"Come on, Legolas," he heard Elrohir whisper. "You can do this."
"How did he do?" Estel whispered, not daring to look down the field.
"I don't know," Elladan murmured. "'Ro?"
"You look, 'Dan," Elrohir replied.
The judges finished calling the scores, and Estel sagged in relief.
Legolas had scored a nineteen.
Elladan grabbed the prince with a grin, pulling him off the field. "I knew you could do it," he said. "You outscored me!"
"Yes, very well done, Legolas," Elrohir added.
"I still missed one shot," Legolas replied, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"And I missed two," Elladan countered. "There is still plenty of time for you to best the other archers and prove that this young upstart of the royal family is the greatest archer in Mirkwood!"
Legolas had to laugh at his friend's grandiose tone. "All I want to do is make my father proud."
"I think you've accomplished that already," Elrohir commented. "The king looked fit to burst when he heard your score."
"Yes, even Belegdurmust becontented by your performance."
At his brother's name, Legolas' face fell. "Probably not. He probably thinks I'm doing poorly."
"Well, what does he know?" Elladan blustered, glancing over his shoulder to shoot a glare at the elf in question. "How long has it been since he picked up a bow? Three centuries? Let archers judge archery, and leave the bitter ruminations to old women and Prince Belegdur."
"'Ruminations'?" Estel laughed. "Elladan, what have you been reading?"
"Stop that," Elrohir protested, stepping in between his brothers as Elladan again lunged playfully at Estel. "You'll distract the archers," he added, pointing at the eight elves lining up on the field.
"The second round's beginning already?" Estel asked in surprise. "But the first just ended."
"It's been four and a half hours since these archers were up, Estel," Elrohir reminded his little brother. "There's no need to break in between rounds today."
"There should be food out if you're hungry," Legolas offered, leaning back against one of the trees that lined the field.
"Want us to bring you something?" Elladan asked, noticing that the prince didn't seem inclined to move.
"Not hungry," the blonde elf made a face. "Too nervous."
"We'll bring some food over anyway," Elrohir retorted with a laugh. "Besides, Estel may be too weak to make it all the way to the tables and back."
Estel rolled his eyes at his brothers' retreating forms. "They seem to think that if they leave us alone enough we'll become friends."
"Aye," Legolas replied with a grin. "How are you enjoying the tournament so far?" he asked.
"It's been...interesting," Estel responded.
"It will move a little faster tomorrow," the prince said with a laugh, glancing back at the field. "As more elves are disqualified you can really see who the finest archers are."
"Is Brithdil still in the tournament?"
"Second from the left, this time," Legolas pointed.
Estel nodded, watching the archers in silence for a moment. "Is it hard?" he asked suddenly.
Legolas glanced down at Estel in surprise. "Is what hard?"
"Archery. My brothers have taught me some but I'm not very good yet. Is it hard?"
"Not if you've spent the last few centuries learning," Legolas replied, laughing at the face his human friend made. "I can teach you some things that your brothers might not know, maybe help you straighten your aim a bit."
Estel smiled brightly. "That would be great! Maybe after the tournament?"
"We'll see," Legolas said, looking back out at the field. "I think Brithdil's got another twenty."
"That's two in a row...do you think he'll win?"
The prince frowned thoughtfully and shook his head. "Brithdil's a fine archer, but when he's nervous he loses a bit of control. Today will likely be his best day in the entire tournament."
Estel nodded, turning his attention to the grass at his feet. If he were younger he would have no qualms about picking a few stems and weaving a mat, like he'd done many times before, but he didn't want the prince thinking him too young.
Elladan and Elrohir returned in a few moments with some bread, cheese, and fruit such as the cooks had set out. Estel barely paid attention to the archers on the field as his stomach began to turn somersaults—his brothers were up next.
"I don't know how long I can stand this," Estel murmured to Legolas as the twins took their positions on the field. "It's nerve-wracking."
The prince chuckled. "Wait until you see the second half tomorrow."
Estel groaned in mock agony. "I don't think I can take it."
The two stood in silence as the archers fired, Estel trying to train his eyes on Elladan and Elrohir at the same time.
"They've done well," Legolas whispered, for which Estel was grateful as he couldn't quite make out the targets at the other end of the field.
The scores were called. Both twins had scored nineteen points, which gave Elrohir a thirty-nine and Elladan a thirty-seven.
"Elladan has a low score?" Estel asked as his brother stayed behind on the field with another elf.
"It's not uncommon in the early rounds," Legolas said reassuringly. "Your brother will do fine."
Sure enough, Elladan passed to the next round when the other archer fired a bad shot. Estel nearly collapsed in relief, glad that both his brothers had made it.
"Estel!" Elladan shouted, grabbing his human brother up in a hug and spinning him around.
Elrohir rolled his eyes and grinned. "I think our brother is a bit wound up."
"Just nervous energy, 'Ro," Elladan replied. "Legolas!"
"Oh, no," the prince backed away, hands held out in front of him. Estel watched, laughing, as his brother chased Legolas around a few of the trees before finally catching him up in an embrace, spinning him around as he had Estel.
Estel leaned back with a sigh of contentment, grinning as he heard some of the other archers laughing at Elladan's antics.
The Shadow might have fallen on Mirkwood...but there was still some brightness in the wood.
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A few hours later Estel again found himself waiting nervously with his brothers as Legolas took his place on the field. The sun was setting, casting odd shadows from the trees on the field and making the whole place, well, just a bit creepy. "Will they finish before night?" he asked his brothers in a whisper.
"Fear not, Estel," Elrohir said kindly. "We are in the company of more two hundred warriors, most of them very skilled archers. You're almost as safe here as you would be back home."
Funny, Estel thought, that wasn't very reassuring.
"I don't think he's nervous at all," Elladan commented.
"He certainly doesn't look it," Elrohir concurred.
"Here we go again," Estel muttered as the archers fired, his stomach twisting as though a snake had made a home in his belly. Now he was glad the elves hadn't provided a full meal at noon—it likely would have been all over the grass by now.
So intent was he on watching Legolas that he didn't hear the scores announced, and was caught completely off-guard when Elladan suddenly whooped as though in victory.
"What happened?"
"Legolas scored a perfect twenty," Elrohir announced proudly.
"His score is now the same as Elrohir's," Elladan added.
"Which is the second-highest score so far."
"You mean he got four bull's-eyes?" Estel asked in astonishment.
"That's right, Little Brother," Elladan laughed.
"If he keeps this up," Elrohir commented, "he might just win the tournament after all!"
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The second day of the tournament dawned bright and clear as Estel, his brothers, and Legolas again came down to the archery field.
"Last day of the tournament," Legolas announced, carefully running his fingers over his bow in inspection.
"Did your friend make it to this round?" Estel asked, realizing he hadn't paid too close attention yesterday.
Legolas shook his head. "Ceretín was disqualified. He and Relfían are in the stands today, though. They want to see how far I get, they said."
Elladan snorted. "Quite the vote of confidence, there."
The prince laughed merrily. "Elladan, a new graduate has never won the tournament. The winner is always an elf of more skill and experience."
"Like him?" Elrohir asked, pointing to a fair-haired archer. "Finen of Lothlorien...I think my grandfather's mentioned him."
Legolas looked up and nodded. "Or Tarathdur. He's one of my father's warriors, and so far he has a perfect score."
The first part of the third round passed much like the day before. Estel watched as Legolas' brother-in-law scored an eighteen—losing his concentration as the sense of competition increased, just as Legolas predicted.
He was surprised, however, when Elladan was disqualified. His brother had scored another nineteen, bringing his score to fifty-six, but it wasn't enough to pass him to the next round.
Estel wrapped his arms around the older twin as soon as the dark-haired elf stepped off the field. "I'm proud of you," he whispered. "You made it so far."
Elladan hugged Estel close with his free arm. "Thank you, Estel. At least now I can rest," the elf added with a laugh. "The watching and waiting for my turn nearly caused my heart to stop!"
"Ah, but how much more trying will it be to watch your twin and your dear friend?" Elrohir asked smugly, sprawling on his back on the lawn. "I believe you will find being a spectator nearly as challenging as being in the tournament."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes...for now you are forced to watch without being able to intervene and do anything."
Elladan groaned theatrically, slouching down next to his twin. "Ai, Estel, how will we survive?"
"They're almost done," Legolas said quietly.
The three sons of Elrond looked up, and Estel could see the tension in the young elf's shoulders.
"Finen has fifty-nine, and Tarathdur sixty. He leads the round...there are three other archers with the same score as Finen."
"Looks like you're up," Elladan commented, rising to his feet to clasp his friend's shoulder.
"I'm afraid," the prince whispered. "What if I fail?"
"Do your best, Legolas," Elladan said encouragingly. "You will never fail any of us if you go out there and just do your best."
"Do you think the stress is overwhelming him?" Elrohir asked with some concern.
"He's afraid he's going to fail his father and the rest of his family," Elladan shrugged. "I would feel the same if we were in Imladris...at least we could have left if we lost spectacularly."
"Archers ready!" the judge's clear call cut through the morning air, bringing attentions back to the field.
"Fire!"
Estel found himself chewing on his knuckles as the eight archers again drew and fired four times in quick succession.
"He did it," Elrohir sighed, grinning foolishly.
"He scored another twenty?"
"Aye," Elladan stepped forward to greet the prince as he jogged off the field. "Legolas!"
The prince laughed. "Not this time," he said, sidestepping Elladan's embrace.
"You're one of the leaders now, Legolas," Elrohir exclaimed. "The only elf with a better score is Tarathdur."
"Four elves tied for second place and one of them is our Legolas," Elladan announced proudly, dropping an arm around Legolas' shoulders in a half-hug.
"Round four," Elrohir sighed. "We're halfway done."
Legolas sank down to sit next to Estel. He looked worn out.
"Are you all right?" the human asked in concern.
"I did not sleep well last night," Legolas admitted.
"I know how you feel," Elrohir nodded. "The tournament...I swear I dreamed I lost to Lord Glorfindel's horse three times last night!"
The prince laughed. "I can understand why we only hold this tournament every twelve years. It will take me at least eleven to recover from this one!"
"Aye, I hope the stress does not affect my aim," Elrohir said cheerfully, waving a playful goodbye to the other three as he turned to join the elves on the field.
"It is going faster today," Estel said quietly.
"The number of elves is greatly reduced," Legolas nodded. "We're down to sixteen now. Starting next round we do not have to divide the archers into separate groups any longer."
Estel kept his eyes on his brother as the elves fired, wondering with some concern if Elrohir was losing some focus. After a fairly steady record of two nineteens and a twenty, Elrohir only managed eighteen points but it was still enough to advance him to the next round. Brithdil, on the other hand, had only manage sixteen and was disqualified.
Now the prince was up again. Finen and Tarathdur, the elves they had been talking about earlier, were in the same group as Legolas. Estel wondered if his friend was intimidated—after all, Tarathdur had yet to make a mistake in the tournament.
The judges gave the signal for the archers to fire, and eight bows moved with enviable fluidity as the command was obeyed.
When the round was over, a strange stillness seemed to fall over the field as the judges scored the archers, though the elves in the stands and behind the firing line were all whispering about something.
"El..." Elladan said softly, his voice amazed.
"I know," Elrohir replied, standing still in shock as the judges announced the scores for the round.
"What? What happened?" Estel asked, straining to hear the archery master's voice over the murmur of the elves around him.
"Legolas just scored another perfect round," Elladan explained.
"He's a very good archer, isn't he?" Estel asked, grinning in excitement at his friend's skill.
"That's not all. Tarathdur got eighteen and Finen nineteen. Their scores are now tied at seventy-eight, same as the other high scores from Elrohir's group."
"So?"
"Legolas' score is seventy-nine."
Estel looked up, his eyes widening in shock. "Legolas is in first place?"
"Aye," Elrohir nodded, excitement creeping into his voice. "If he can keep his lead, he'll win the tournament."
Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?
Here's how bizarre my mind is: I couldn't even write the chapter until I sat down and figured out the scores for all seventy-nine archers. Seriously, I'll email you the chart I made in MS Word if you don't believe me.