A.N: Wow, the reviews are flying in. I may have missed replying to some of you. Apologies but I was writing this when they came in and I was afraid to stop. I was on a roll. So sincere thanks to all of you. As I told NiRi, reviews are what keep us writers writing!

Slightly longer chapter, this one. My muse didn't want to stop, but I had to put the brakes on eventually or this would never have gotten finished. I use some elvish words here and there in this fic but haven't bothered with translations, I figure you all know what "ada" "mellon nin" and so on mean. If you would prefer I did put in translations, please let me know.

Enjoy. J

One Friend to Another

Chapter 4: Fun

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The walk to the archery field was a long one.

At least it seemed that way to Legolas. In truth the practise field was just beyond the stables in a large clearing before the first edges of the dense trees that protected Imladris from unwelcome eyes. Under normal circumstances Legolas could make the walk in twenty minutes from the front door of The Last Homely House. Today it seemed to be taking hours.

Legolas had shortened his stride to accommodate the short legs of the small boy tripping at his heels. Yet he still had to continually stop and wait for the child to catch up, and twice he had to backtrack and pull the panting child back to his own two feet after he had unceremoniously tripped over them and fell sprawling.

"If the child would only stop talking he would not be using up his breath!" the prince thought to himself irritably as the boy ran panting behind him.

Estel jogged furiously to keep up to the long legged blond elf, all the while chatting incessantly about the prank on his brother this morning, and pranks he had played in the past, then he had continued regaling Legolas on the jokes and escapades the twins had pulled on the likes of Erestor and Glorfindel.

To all these tales Legolas said nothing. He let the boy ramble on and struggle to keep up with him while steadily walking on, lost in his own thoughts. In truth he was struggling to stop himself cursing Elrond in every language he knew for lumbering him with the boy.

He had wanted to immerse himself in his own thoughts away from the family and advisors and the many occupants of Imladris under the pretence of practising his bowmanship. He had not wanted to be saddled with babysitting a 5 year old adan.

As the human babbled on about some strange tale involving the dye from pink rose petals and Glorfindel's shampoo, Legolas found himself struggling to just put one foot in front of the other. As always, he felt weary from lack of sleep and poor appetite, and nightmares that plagued him when he did sleep. He felt sore from the cloth of his shirt irritating old scars and every movement pained over-used and undernourished muscles.

Legolas raised his head and realised they had finally arrived. The buildings of the stables and warrior barracks and various other outhouses had given way to the open area that served as the weapons practise fields. The meadow was huge and the end they now stood at held sturdy carved wooden weapons tables whilst the area immediately in front of them was laid out in numerous paths running parallel to each other, well worn by numerous elven feet that used them to walk the long distance to the targets at the end of each to retrieve their arrows or throwing knives after practise. To Legolas' left was a large arena of sand used for hand-to-hand combat and sword training. With a grateful sigh the prince realised he had the whole place to himself, no soldiers or warriors were anywhere in sight.

"Are we there yet?" came that annoying little voice and Legolas internally corrected his earlier thought of solitude. He had company after all, if not exactly a warrior.

On the boy's back was a small quiver full of blunt practise arrows. Though the quiver was small and the arrows purposely blunt, they held almost as much beauty as the hand-made and lethally sharp arrows in Legolas' own quiver. Nor was the quiver itself any more plain than the elf prince's own, which had been etched with a design of a resting peacock. Estel's quiver was etched with a horse's head, it's neck arched gracefully and full long mane flaring as if blown by a great wind. Legolas had noticed the quiver when he had collected the boy from his elven nanny that morning, and though he had said nothing he had been caught by the life-like beauty of the horse. He surmised that the child's equipment had been lovingly decorated by one of the twins. Elladan, he guessed, knowing that twin's love of all equines.

"So what now, Leg'lass?" the boy asked innocently, dropping his small bow from his shoulder to the grass.

"Now you pick your bow up again and check it for damage from that throw to the ground!" Legolas told him sternly. "You must treat all weapons with care. Such a toss to the ground could damage the string, which in turn could snap just as you fire at some attacking orc"

He looked down at the small being and saw the split second frown cross the small face, to be chased away by an innocent smile

"But there are no orcs here, Leg'lass" he said, as if the elf prince was silly not to notice this.

Legolas fought not to roll his eyes at the boy. "I know, Estel. But tomorrow there might be, and if not then the day after that".

Estel was the one to roll his eyes as Legolas turned from him to lay his own huge bow and quiver on the nearest weapons table to count arrows and check his own string for the hundredth time. The young boy was beginning to get the feeling that the archery lessons he had been looking forward to for days were not going to be much fun.

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He was right.

"No Estel" Legolas was telling him sternly from where he crouched behind the boy, his knees either side of the child standing in front of him, whose bow was strung and ready to fire. "Do not aim for the target! Aim above the target, like this……" he added, adjusting the boy's aim upwards slightly. "As I told you before, if you aim straight for the target the arrow will fall short. You must aim above the target to allow for the weight of the arrow as it flies in an arc, not a straight line!"

Estel shifted his feet and felt the long fingers of the elf behind him push into his shoulder and swivel his upper body slightly to the left.

"Do not move from this position" his instructor told him, standing and backing off from him a few feet. "Now pull back and fire"

The boy pulled back on his miniature bow and let go, his little arrow flying away from the string and sailing into the air towards the marked tree…only to 'thunk' harmlessly into the wood nowhere near the marking and fall to the ferns under the great bough. He turned to his instructor in triumph, sure that that arrow had come closer than any of his other tries, eager for praise from the prince for his near-miss. But Legolas had one hand to his eyes messaging his temples in frustration.

"You did not pull back far enough" Legolas all but groaned. "You need to pull back to the extent of the bow, anchor the string at your back tooth like I showed you and then let go!"

"I did!" Estel retorted in disappointment and, despite his best effort, with a pout.

"You did not!" was the reply. "You did not pull back far enough!"

"My arms are tired" the boy protested, and just then his stomach gave an almighty rumble. "And I am hungry" he added as an afterthought.

Legolas was about to respond about how hunger and tiredness cannot impede a warrior when in battle, when the archer and his budding apprentice were jolted by a distant shout.

"Anyone up for some lunch?"

The elf and the boy turned to see Elladan and Elrohir come striding towards them, a huge picnic basket swinging between them as they walked.

"'Dan! 'Ro!" Estel was delighted to see the twins and - his earlier telling-off already forgotten - cast his bow to the ground and ran to meet them, flinging himself into Elrohir's arms, almost knocking the huge basket to the ground.

Legolas groaned in annoyance and bent to pick up the small bow, placing it with his own on the weapons table as the twins reached him.

"So, young prince" Elladan addressed Legolas as he hoisted the basket to the weapons table and turned to give the prince a gentle slap on the shoulder. "How goes the archery lessons?"

"The boy refuses to learn anything" he grunted in displeasure. "I tell him one thing, he appears to listen, then abruptly does the exact opposite!"

Elrohir felt the boy sag in his arms at the prince's words.

"Legolas, he is but a child…..you must be patient with him"

"Yes, a mortal child" Legolas retorted, his voice beginning to rise in anger. "He does not have time for patience. What he learns now must serve to extend an already short life, but if he will not listen and learn….."

"Legolas!" Elladan barked sharply, aghast at the prince's candour, cut off any further comment. "What has gotten in to you, my friend?"

Confused at the twin's displeasure, Legolas quirked his head to one side and studied him.

"You wish me to teach him archery, do you not?" he asked, perplexed. "That is what I have been doing, yet he continually refuses to……"

"Legolas, please…" Again Elladan interrupted him. "We wished only for you to give the boy some pointers on archery…..not turn him into a killing machine after one day!"

Elladan checked to see Elrohir had taken the boy out of earshot of them, then continued when he saw his twin take the little one to the marked tree to show him his accomplishments. He took Legolas by the arm of his tunic and led him to sit on a soft patch of moss nearby.

"You should not take this so seriously, prince" Elladan elaborated with a slight smile. "Estel is only 5 years old. Barely the equivalent of an elfling in our years. You cannot expect him to learn all you have learned in your two millennia just yet"

"We were hoping the two of you would have fun" the elf added as casually as he could, getting comfortable on the soft ground.

At this Legolas looked at him as if Elladan had just suggested running naked across the meadow. He couldn't believe what Elladan was telling him. Had he been set up….not just by Elrond as unofficial babysitter, but by all of them?

"Legolas" Elladan began again softly, meeting the shocked gaze of the prince with a sad look of his own. "When was the last time you had fun?"

When indeed.

Legolas rested his long arms on his raised knees and stared at his boots. Fun? He could barely remember what the word meant. Then he suddenly remembered enjoying the wind in his hair as he galloped a grey stallion through the close knit trees of Mirkwood once. It was so long ago he couldn't remember the name of the horse. He remembered a Harvest Festival in the grounds of his father's palace and dancing under the stars with a beautiful elleth his brothers had teased he was going to marry. He couldn't recall her name either……..

That had all been before. Before the Shadow grew in Mirkwood and all but blotted out the sun and stars. Before he had seen most of his friends cut down in battle to orc or wolf or warg. Before his brothers had sailed, taking their wives and children with them to the Undying Lands, leaving him with the responsibility of a tired army of warriors and a despairing king and father.

Elladan sat quietly and watched the emotions play over the face of his friend. One by one he saw them chase across the fair features.

Then just as suddenly all emotion was gone, the oft worn stoic mask fell into place on the youthful face and Legolas abruptly sprang to his feet.

"I do not have time for fun, Elladan" he declared coldly.

And Elladan could only watch wordlessly as Legolas retrieved his bow and quiver from the table and stalked off to the target for the advanced elven warriors a little way off and fired arrow after arrow into the far away target with perfect precision, until his quiver was empty.

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