A/N: I'm trying my best to get a drabble posted every day, but it's difficult when I don't have motivation or support… please, if you read this and like it, tell me! If you see something that needs fixing, tell me! If you just want to give me support and encouragement, please do!I will be forever grateful. Thank you. :D
Arrow
Legolas: 8
Thranduil stood on his balcony, scanning the gardens below until his eyes caught sight of his son.
Legolas was practising archery with his instructor. He had been taking lessons for a little over a month now, and already the Elvenking could see enough potential in him that would result in him being named as the best archer on Middle-earth in maybe a few hundred years.
Crystal blue eyes watched as the elfling drew back his bow, waiting a moment as his instructor repositioned his arm slightly, and let it go, squealing with joy as it hit the edge of the target.
But the King could not share in his son's joy and usually contagious smile, because he knew that one day, Legolas would be fighting in battles and would need these archery skills for a completely different reason.
To kill.