Chapter Two:

2017 Third Age. Lasgalen: Greenwood the Great.

"If you are not gone by the time I draw my next breath, I swear you will wish to be a hundred leagues from here." Anaríel said sweetly, never missing a stitch. For the third time in as many minutes, something soft brushed past her ear and tickled her nose.

"That-is-it!" With a cry, the elleth threw down her lace trim and leapt up wheeling to face the window through which her assailant tormented her. "Legolas! I swear one of these days—oh!"

"Morning Arí—look what I've brought you. There are four more like this one in the stables." Legolas stood leaning in the window, a grey furry bundle extended in one hand. It was not a young cattail after all, but a cat's tail—kitten's tail to be more accurate—with which he had been tickling her nose.

"What are you doing with that?" She said, straightening her skirts while trying to keep the smile from her lips. The Prince of Lasgalen just grinned, sinuously entering the room through the open window.

"Do not dare! I mean it, do not bring that creature in here—it belongs in the stable with its brethren."

"Oh come now Arí, she can be our little secret. Just yours and mine—no one need ever find out."

"Hmmph, just like no one would ever find out about your "pet" squirrel. No, Le'las. I'll not be lured into another one of your pranks. I am still paying penance for the last one."

Legolas laughed, stretching his legs out on the window seat and nodding towards the discarded lace on Anaríel's chair. "Ah, so that is what has you cooped up in here on this fine morning. If you are worried about Naneth's displeasure just tell her the truth—that I barged in here simply to foist this sweet, adorable, defenseless—."

"Alright, alright—stop." Anaríel laughed and finally took the pint sized ball of fluff with which Legolas had been chucking her under the chin. "You are incorrigible, you do know that?"

"But of course. Rarely has a day gone by over the last thirty-one years, have failed to remind me of that fact."

"Well you are." The elleth sighed, scratching the kitten behind its ears as it fell asleep in her lap purring all the while. "So, Annábon's kittens are old enough to be removed from the stable?" When no answer was forthcoming, Anaríel raised her head glancing sharply at her companion. "Le'las?"

"Just for a short while. Master Rochtûr said I could "borrow" her briefly while Annábon slept. As long as I get her back before noon no harm will be done."

Anaríel glanced out the window and rose. "We best hurry then, we haven't much time." With that, she tucked the kitten under one arm, caught her skirts up with the other and deftly swung her legs through the window with the same swift grace as the ellon. "Coming, Le'las?"

"Of course, your wish is ever my command O' Lady Bright." The Prince laughed emerging from the window and sketching a slight bow.

Anaríel eyed her companion narrowly. "Hmmm, in one of those moods I see.

Going to be one of those days is it?"

Legolas pulled an innocent face, earning a punch in the arm as the two crossed the stable yard. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For disturbing me at my penance—um, work."

"Oh come now Arí—I brought you a kitten."

"Indeed you did, and may I remind "Ye-Of-So-Brief-Memory", last week it was a squirrel."

"You said you liked the squirrel!"

"I said, the squirrel got into my wardrobe and wrecked all within."

"But I bet you still liked it." The Prince shot back with a laugh. "Ow! Now what was that for?"

"If you have to ask…"

"Little Lalaith has your son by the ear again I see." Thranduil chuckled, turning from the edge of the patio.

"Why is Legolas always "my" son when Anaríel is asserting her superior grasp of good sense and propriety?" The Queen shot back, buttering a slice of fine white bread.

"Propriety? Good sense?" Thranduil rounded on his wife, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I will have you know I overheard that hoyden plotting with Beleth and Orofíriel just the other eve."

Líawen bit down on the laughter threatening to bubble to the surface and continued buttering a second slice of bread. "Plotting to do just what might I ask?"

"They got it into their fair, yet devious little heads, that Legolas, Tinwë, and Aldaer's training bows were a tad worse for wear and could do with a bit of polishing."

"They didn't—?" Líawen laughed placing the bread on her husband's plate and popping her thumb into her mouth.

"Oh yes, she and her two cohorts most certainly did. Those three hellions greased those bows so thoroughly you could see them gleam from the other side of the mountains."

Líawen licked the last of the butter from her fingers and grinned impishly. "Strange, the ellyn never noticed?"

"Of course not, they were too busy boasting over who was going to be the fastest draw at practice."

"Oh dear," the Queen giggled, taking a delicate bite.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "Lía—you would not happen to know anything about this?"

"No, not particularly, although I believe I did hear something about Legolas getting his "just deserts" after letting a squirrel loose in Anaríel's wardrobe."

Thranduil's mouth hung open for the space of a second. "LEGOLAS! ANARÍEL! TO ME—THIS INSTANT!"

"Now, now dear—I have always found it best to let the young ones work these things out amongst themselves."

elleth:female elf

Naneth: mother

Lalaith: laughter

ellyn (pl.): male elves