"Thank you for a lovely meal," Thranduil said. He stood outside the cottage door, looking up at Ivy.

Ivy smiled but the curve of her lips seemed forced. She set Lucil on the grass and he ran toward a yellow butterfly lingering in the yard. "We were honored to have you, my prince."

Thranduil hesitated. "Perhaps, if I come again, I may bring ada with me?"

Ivy straightened up and wiped her hands on her apron. "Respectfully, my prince, while we have no right to deny you, we would prefer if you do not come here again."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"This is not your place, my prince," Ivy said kindly, but she gestured to the gate.

Thranduil backed away. at the gate, he plunged through and left it swinging. He ran past the pea trellises, knowing the path only by the feel of stones as tears blinded him. He startled maids picking herbs and upset potted plants until he reached the stone wall separating him from the royal gardens. Thranduil sank down beside the honeysuckle growing up the wall and sobbed.

"Not my place," Thranduil cried. "Not my place!"

He slapped the wall and winced at the pain spreading through his hand. "I hate my place."

Thranduil leaned back and picked at the grass growing in a strip in front of the wall. He leaned too hard and the wall gave way. Honeysuckle tore and he tumbled back, stabbing his arm against a sharp bush. Thranduil crawled out of the bush, rubbing the slight wound, and fount himself on a pebbled path in the royal gardens.

"Thranduil!"

At Harune's call, Thranduil waved and wiped his watering eyes as Harune caught up to him.

"I thought I had lost you," Harune said, and ruffled his hair.

Thranduil felt better already and he grinned. "I visited the kitchen gardens. But you know I would come back."

"Always," Harune assured him. "Have you had lunch?"

As they walked toward the palace doors, Thranduil said, "I ate lunch with the gardeners. But—they told me not to come back because it was not my place."

Harune nodded his head and the wind blew back his loose hair. "Well, you know Oropher has definite views on duty and place. He feels like servants and nobles ought not mix."

Thranduil tugged at a lock of his blond hair. "Yes . . . but you make beds, ada, and fold sheets and go into the kitchens."

Harune met Thranduil's eyes. "Perhaps, since it has been this way for centuries, servants and nobles alike feel the void separation has caused and are afraid to bridge it."

"I do not think there should be a gap," Thranduil said. "I wish I could bridge it."

"People do not like change," Harune said.

"It is not fair to look down on people, ada," Thranduil answered. "I do not want to look out of place in the kitchen gardens. Do you think you could teach me to cook?"

"If I cannot teach you to cook, I am not your father," Harune teased. "We can make time to cook together. But come, Oropher wishes to speak to you."

"I do not want to speak to him," Thranduil muttered, and kicked the pebbled pathway.

"You know I do not approve of dishonesty," Harune said. "But it would not hurt you to smile."

Thranduil mounted the palace steps. As he and Harune passed through the doors and walked toward Oropher's throne hall, Thranduil said, "I will try to smile."

"I will make it easier for you," Harune said, and tickled his arm.

The hall straight from the palace's front doors led to the throne room, where a gnarled tree root formed the throne. With three steps leading up to it and a fan of still-living branches behind it, Oropher rested his hands on the broad arms of his chair, his crown of gold stark against the green behind him.

Natelle sat beside her husband, in a chair of the same make but, instead of green leaves, the fan behind her chair budded with pink and purple tinged flowers.

Two elves stood before Oropher, but they stepped aside as Thranduil walked up the long hall. He left Harune standing by the door with his hands behind his back.

A domed ceiling with glass let in light and wide walls gave the illusion of space. Thranduil bowed to his king, and Oropher stood and walked down to the narrow carpet running from the throne to the door.

"You summoned me, my king," Thranduil said.

"Indeed," Oropher answered. "Recent events have led me to realize you are not a child. Allow me to introduce you to Kryn, bowsmistress, and Yuai, swordsmaster."

Thranduil's eyes flickered; he knew what Oropher would say next. He straightened his shoulders and smiled. "It is an honor to meet you both." His voice sounded calm though his heart pounded at his chest, furious at the lie on his face.

"Prince Thranduil," Kryn and Yuai bowed. "It is our honor to instruct you in the way of the bow and sword."

Thranduil glanced at Oropher. Act like a prince! His mind barked.

"It is my honor to learn," Thranduil said, and bowed, smiling grimly at the surprise on Oropher's face.

"I am satisfied you are ready to begin your training," Oropher said. "Kryn and Yuai are the best Mirkwood has to offer in the way of mentors. You will learn well."

Thranduil faced Oropher. "Where will my lessons take place, my king?"

"In a private training hall."

His suspicion confirmed, Thranduil said, "I have a request, my king."

Oropher made a wide gesture. "Speak it."

"I ask that my lessons take place in the open training fields. I will learn better in a group environment."

Natelle stood. Holding the skirt of her blue dress, she descended her throne. "I think not. You will focus better alone."

"My queen," Thranduil bowed. "It will be easier to learn if I have can see others my age performing. It is hard to mimic a body bigger than mine."

Natelle raised her eyebrows into streaks of gold. "This is not open to discussion."

Thranduil paused. He turned to Kryn and Yuai. "If I do not learn as well as I should alone, would you consider teaching me in the open fields."

"We will do what is best for your training," Kryn answered, but her eyes snapped at him.

"If Kryn and Yuai concur an open environment is what I need, will you listen?" Thranduil asked Natelle.

"We hear the voices of the royal tutors," Natelle answered. She waved her hand. "But I am sure we will hear no complaints."

Thranduil bowed to the King and Queen and joined Harune at the door. Once they passed the guards flanking the exit, he let out his breath.

"You handled yourself well," Harune said. "Though I cannot concur it is safe to tease with getting your way to Natelle's face."

"Is fear a good teacher?" Thranduil asked. "I-I was terrified he would lock me up again."

"You should not behave because you are afraid but because you want to be a better person," Harune said. He clasped Thranduil's hand.

"Prince Thranduil!"

At the call, Harune and Thranduil halted as Kryn and Yuai caught up to them. Looking at them, Thranduil thought the elves looked like their weapons. Narrow and taunt yet not stiff, Kryn's pointed face and thick brown hair reminded him of a bowstring pulled back. Slightly shorter than Kryn, Yuai wore the golden stag of the royal guard on his leather tunic. A dozen small braids of yellow hair hung down his back, and his eyebrows stood out in his tanned face.

"I am afraid you left rather abruptly," Kryn said. "We must look over the training hall, my prince, as we expect you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"May ada come to?" Thranduil asked.

The elves glanced at Harune. Kryn inclined her head. "Of course."

Thranduil mapped the way from his bedroom to the training hall in his head as he followed his new teachers. Through a square door, a long room opened up. With windows along one wall staring out into the silver birches at the palace's northern side and black matting across the floor, the room held endless possibilities; archery targets made a line across one long end of the room, opposite the door, and a rack of wooden swords stood in the corner at Thranduil's left.

"It does not look like much," he said. "It is so bland."

"We will begin here with the basics," Kryn replied. "A simple environment is all you need, even when you are ready to move onto to more advanced moves."

"Back the way we came," Yuai said, leading the way, "are smaller changing and dressing rooms." He opened a door and indicated a small square space with a bench and hooks on the wall.

Leather armor and a choice display of blades and bows lined one wall. There were no windows in the room, Thranduil noted. He thought of the outdoor training fields under the birches where the ring of swords and the thunk! of arrows would echo under the trees and his heart panged at the memory of the indoor hall. He bowed when Kryn and Yuai dismissed him with a promise to meet them the next day.

"Did Oropher learn in the same hall?" Thranduil asked as he and Harune strolled away.

"Everything Oropher does is a reflection of his upbringing," Harune answered. He passed his hand over the back of Thranduil's head. "Bows and swords are dangerous weapons, ion nin. Promise me you will learn to use them as they are meant to be used. I know many people say they are meant to hurt others but blades and bows are meant for protection."

"I do not want to hurt people," Thranduil said quietly.

Harune smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled. "I know. Now come, you must tidy up for dinner with the King and Queen."

"At least it is the only daily meal I have to share with them," Thranduil sighed and skipped away to don his tunic with the high collar.

"I missed you at lunch!" Harune called after him, but Thranduil had disappeared up one of the servant staircases on a short cut to his room.

Mirkwood is riddled with generational and societal gaps. Sometimes what I write reminds me of our world.

Thanks so much for reading! You know I love hearing your thoughts.

Next Chapter: Thranduil's first day with weapons in hand . . . . is middling.