Thranduil's legs bent when Yuai hammered down on him and the wooden sword moved easily in his hand. Around and around the training hall he and Yuai went until his developing muscles ached again. Blocks of wood scattered across the floor challenged Thranduil's awareness.

Yuai raised his eyebrows when Thranduil stumbled over a block. "You are not learning as you should. A dozen stumbles is half a dozen too many."

"I need to be outside," Thranduil answered. "Even Kryn says the hall will soon be too short for an arrow shot. Besides, will I ever hunt orcs indoors?"

"It is possible," Yuai answered.

Thranduil slashed his sword in frustration. "I am one person. How can I make friends to better explain the parts I struggle with if I am cooped up here? I have seen you in the training fields."

"As Captain of the Guard, I have many responsibilities."

"I know," Thranduil said gloomily.

Yuai slid his sword into its place on the rack. "I will speak to the King about allowing you the inclusiveness of the fields."

"Thank you!" Thranduil exclaimed. He slid his sword into its place beside Yuai's and took up his waiting bow as Kryn replaced Yuai.

Thranduil met Harune in the kitchens for lunch. No one bowed to him, but the maids nodded their heads and Thranduil nodded back.

Eating over a batch of savory popovers, light and fluffy and filled with buttered onions, Harune said, "I hear you successfully campaigned to continue your training in the fields."

Thranduil smiled. "Yes. Yuai agreed it is what I need, and Oropher said yes. Where is Nimrethil?"

"She is antagonizing Hafia for an apprenticeship," Harune replied.

"Ada," Thranduil said. "Have you ever visited an orphanage?"

Harune's blue eyes fastened on him. "Why?"

"Nimrethil said orphanages are—are dreary places."

"She is partly right," Harune answered. "It is, unfortunately, an exception rather then a rule to find places where orphans are treated well."

Thranduil fiddled with the last bite on his plate. "How many sinkholes of despair do I not know about?"

"More then I care to admit," Harune said. "Orc attacks and sickness leave behind many homeless elflings."

The last bite of popover on his fork was cold but Thranduil ate it. "Why?"

"Perhaps not many people care about homeless elflings," Harune said. "Or maybe the ones who do care cannot afford to care." He offered Thranduil a cookie to condole him.

Thranduil broke the cookie in half. "How can I—how can anyone live a life of ease and have no empathy for people who are hungry?"

"It may be they do not know," Harune answered. "Or perhaps they ignore what they deem unworthy of attention."

Thranduil snapped the cookie into two more pieces. Harune said, "There is darkness in this world, Thranduil. It is how we handle that matters."

"I am not handling it well!" Nimrethil appeared at Thranduil's elbow, wiping tears from her eyes. "Hafia is an old cow who pinched my ear and told me to come back with gold if I wanted her teaching."

"Calling people names will not bring you any closer to achieving your goal," Harune told her.

The next day after breakfast Thranduil left the palace instead of walking to the training hall. He skipped toward the swords field in the early morning air, feeling the sun warm his shoulders. Worn dirt tracks laced through the field. Thranduil passed rows of wooden scarecrows and elflings hard at work smacking the wooden people.

Eyes turned to him as Thranduil joined Yuai in a corner of the field. All in an instant, Thranduil thought of Hyrondal watching from the woods and then Yuai passed him a wooden sword.

The sun glinted off the steel blades wielded by the older youths and a pang of jealousy zipped through Thranduil. Yuai stepped back and readied his sword. "You are nowhere near receiving your own blade, my prince. You must reach perfection with the blade you have now before taking up steel."

"Perfection?" Thranduil echoed.

As he and Yuai matched swords, Thranduil felt the eyes of the field on him. Aware of the graceful duels carried on around him, he felt clumsy. As he stumbled, it occurred to him he was failing in the eyes of his fellows.

In the archery fields, Thranduil fared no better, though the thunk! of a hundred arrows hitting their mark made a pleasant sound. Discouraged, Thranduil walked homeward, slashing his sword into the underbrush.

"You are awful."

Thranduil whirled around to find Hyrondal standing there leering at him.

"I thought you might actually learn, having private lessons and all," Hyrondal said, stepping off the tree trunk he stood on. "But you cannot even hold your sword right."

Thranduil glared at him. "Yuai finds no fault in how I hold my sword."

"Maybe not," Hyrondal replied. "But a sword should extend from your arm like a second hand. Instead you hold it like some kind of jutting bone. No wonder you are a disaster!"

Thranduil drew in a breath. "Perhaps you will teach me how to hold my sword properly?"

Hyrondal folded his arms. "Why should I?"

"Because you want to learn what Yuai is teaching me," Thranduil answered. "And I am sure you cannot see us too well in our corner of the field. So, if you teach me how you use the sword, I will teach you what I have learned."

Hyrondal narrowed his yellow eyes. "You cannot come by whenever you please and expect me to make way for you."

"No," Thranduil agreed. "I have lessons until noon and gardening afterwards."

"Come at high noon then," Hyrondal commanded. "But if there is no hope for you, there is no hope for you. And mind you, I will teach you because I cannot stand to look at my prince with shame."

Thranduil snorted. When he looked back, Hyrondal leaned against a tree with his eyes closed. Thranduil could not be sure if he was tired or dizzy or both.

Dearest people, thank you for walking the path of My Prince with me. I am eternally grateful that you take time out of your busy days to read my writing efforts and even more happy that you share your thoughts!

Next Chapter: In which Thranduil learns to dance, which does not sound exciting, but it is. *wink*