Chapter Eight

Thranduil placed his crown securely on his head, leaving his servants in his wake as he left his chambers. As another servant opened the door in front of him he nodded in acknowledgment, passing him as well. His robes flowed around him as he marched down to the feast room. Several wandering elves bowed swiftly as he went along. The king felt his ego swell. The hallways never seemed so short, as soon as he reached the feasting room and met up with Legolas the celebration would begin. His baby elf was growing up.

Standing outside the door in stunning glory was Prince Legolas, seventh son of King Thranduil of the Mirkwood realm; one of fifty-seven maternal elves living in the kingdom. Though the land under Thranduil's rule was very expansive, the rarity of males birthed with the ability to repeat the act was so very small. Now his Little Leaf was old enough to find his bonded, his mate, his husband. And he was in the next room. Stepping up to his son he extended his arm, Legolas it with his own as the guards eased open the doors. A large smile was plastered over Legolas's face, finally the day had come, he felt he'd burst if he'd have to wait any longer. His weariness from dancing was replaced with a glee and excitement for the celebration of his future. His blue eyes scanned the crowds, looking over his guests and their activities and outfits. Everyone was glammed up, sporting a wide selection of jewelry and the richest of fabrics. Hair was twisted and twined in the highlights of current fashion, drinks being liberally downed with bites of succulent foods.

As the royal duo made their way to the front of the room eyes flashed their way, locking on and watching their journey. Whispers began to fill the room as the two joined the royal family on an elevated stage. Legolas took a seat next to his brother, Tathar, smiling widely at them all. A twitchy feeling developed in his gut, and he staved off the urge to wring his hands. Forcing himself to calm, the prince returned to elf watching, waiting for the reactions to his father's announcements.

Tathar smirked at his older brothers when Legolas chose to sit by him. Leaning over to whisper something to Niecal. As his father, Thranduil, cleared his thoart to gain the attention of the room, he sat back in his chair, idly fidgeting with his signet ring. He was one of the views in the family that wore the ring in the customary place, on his finger. Mostly his older siblings had them fashioned into other forms of jewelry, though his eldest brother and heir to the throne, Rië, also wore the ring on his finger, as did his father. The signet ring was a symbol used by those from the lines that ruled Mirkwood. Each one was personalized. Tathar grinned as he recalled the form his third older brother had for his ring, while he thought it made a beautiful earring, he recalled quite clearly the mood it had put his father in, and was curious as to the form Legolas would wish to have for his own ring. When an elf of royal birth came of age he received the materials to form the ring. The General was shaken from his thoughts as his father began his speech on enjoying the party and praising his youngest for this monumental occasion.

At the close of the speech, Haldir let his eyes roam. The King was quite the charmer when he deemed fit it seemed. Looking over those gathered, the Marchwarden couldn't help but locate the swiftest exits, calculating the effort it would take to reach them. As his eyes passed the stage where King Thranduil stood he froze, the elusive Greenleaf was sitting there next to the General. This would not usually drawl his attentions but those on stage were all somehow related or connected to the royal family. Why would the General and his mate also join them? Resolving the issue with Mirkwood having different protocol, he snatched up his drink and toasted with the rest of the crowd. Now would come the games.

Haldir shifted partners throughout the dance, feeling the tempo spike viscously with the swap. He was so wrapped up in not stepping on the other's feet that he nearly did when he was greeted.

"Ah, Haldir, I hope your eve has been joyous."

Haldir's silvery eyes jolted up and froze at the sight before him, the General.

"Tathar," he smiled at the other elf, "yes, quite a celebration I have never before attended. This has been a night to remember for decades to come."

Tathar's head bobbed, unable to reply because of the dance movements.

"Now for all worthy candidates."

A small elf toddled out to the middle of the floor, a large box in his grasp. Once he reached the middle of the floor and set the box down he turned around and toddled as fast as he could back to the sidelines, yelping as less organized and momentarily graceless elves flung themselves towards the middle of the room, parchments closely gripped in their palms.

Legolas felt his muscles tense at the tsunami of offers crashing his way, via the box. Were so many willing to bond with one they did not know? Did he want to bond with someone such as that? The prince bit his lip in anxiety. Did he really want to tie himself to one of these elves for all of eternity? Was he willing to hand over the control of such a huge part of his life to the council? Legolas felt his stomach turn to lead and a sour taste in the back of his mouth, surpressing it he sickly watched as the 'well-mannered and well-bred' elves scrambled over one another shove their scrolls in the large highly decorated box.

Arwen grinned in amusement; bachelors she decided were the most amusing race in Middle Earth. Without a doubt. She glanced about the room, taking in the shocked expression on Legolas' face, smiling at his discomfort. Perhaps she should attempt to…comfort him. Her smile contorted in a more evil expression, a low cackle bursting out of her lips before she could stop it. As soon as she regained control of herself she gave herself whiplash turning side to side to see if anyone had caught her doing so. Elhorir was eyeing her oddly, edging his chair away from his sister. Coughing in a belated attempt to cover up, Arwen began devising her plan.

At the close of the evening Legolas could not believe his night. So many dances and dishes. The blonde was still all a whirl; he still couldn't grasp the events. Everything was happening so quickly. The first two thousand years of his life had gone by so slowly, almost a snail's pace; and now the past few days had been a blur, speeding by so quickly that he could barely keep up.

"I have a feeling that it won't be slowing down anytime soon either." Muttered Legolas, scribbling in his dish of pudding.

"What was that brother?" Treyol asked, the eldest Mirkwood prince; with a kind smile on his face and a hand on Greenleaf's shoulder.

Legolas felt a light flush fill his cheeks. "Nuthin', Trey." He murmured.

"If you ever have the need to speak, I am here for you. Always."

Unsure of how to reply, Legolas merely nodded and continued to look down into his pudding.

Yaniul gently unlatched the box, aware of Legolas' sensitive nature towards the selection of his future bonded. It would not due to be callous in the young prince's moments of need. Ever since the birth of the King's last, he'd taken an interest in raising and caring for the elfling. Thranduil and his sons had become the closest thing to a family he had.

The small group was tense with the knowledge that the youngest royal's mate was to be found within the ornate box before them. With a few words from the King, speaking of his trust in their judgment and character, a servant moved forward to begin passing out the parchments.

Four hours later, the council was still going through the offers. Every elf had to be examined and weighed. Were they compatible with Mirkwood? Would this lead to a strong alliance? What have they to offer Mirkwood? Are they capable of handling an elf such as the prince? On and on the questions left, every angle examined before one suitor could be rejected or accepted. There would be only three positions for the final round.

Legolas paced around his garden, too nervous to puttering around or weed the shrubs. For once Gwibess, was off on an adventure of her own, a mission to retrieve some desserts before dinner. The prince knew that his future mate was being examined by the council, and couldn't help but feel jittery. As a prince it was his responsibility to create alliances with other kingdoms, especially considering the kingdom's situation, the fastest solution was matrimony. With his eligibility now there was no reason for Legolas not to benefit his homeland. He just wished he had more of a hand in the alliance. The prince was still naïve enough to hope for someone that was willing to care for him, perhaps one day love him. Like the love his parents had.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Legolas jerked out from under it. He looked up into the shocked face of his guard. "I meant no disrespect my prince, only to make you aware."

Legolas couldn't keep the confused look off his face, "Of what?" He felt a heat rise in his face as the guards exchanged looks.

"Of the messenger Prince." Forcing the color from his face, the blonde turned towards the stoic messenger.

"The council has made a motion to towards your future mate."

Not a very interesting chapter, but the next will have some more humor and gaffes.