Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's creations, I just like to play in Middle Earth.

Summary: In the aftermath of a failed mission, Legolas returns to the stronghold and must carry on as a captain, a prince, and a son. A story about finding hope and faith in the face of despair.

Author's Note: Thanks everyone for hanging in there with me, and especially thank you to those who took the time to review. Enjoy chapter 3!

Chapter 3

Legolas walked into the captains' quarters and found Galathil arranging pieces of parchment on a large table. Legolas stood next to him and started reading the names. All of the warriors of the realm were accounted for on these rosters, which also noted their skill levels and specialties. The rosters were then organized into patrols and given assignments.

"Are these current?" Legolas asked.

"Yes. The most recent casualties have been taken into account. This list," he held up a piece of parchment, "has my recommendations for warriors who need time at home or easy assignments—those who were given additional patrols in the last month and the immediate family members of the dead. These," he pointed to a different list, "have finished leave or light duty following convalescence and should be prepared for the longer patrols."

Legolas rested his hands on the table and read the two lists carefully, nodding his agreement, "Thank you."

"No problem," Galathil replied, "I can help arrange the patrols later if you would like. For now, though, I request your leave to go assist with training. Two of the instructors returned home to be with their families; the remaining instructors could use some help."

"Of course," Legolas answered. Sadly, the kingdom was growing used to the loss of elven lives, but to lose five at one was a difficult blow for the tight-knit community.

Galathil paused in the doorway, "How was the council meeting?"

"Brief, at least for me it was. Berethron came to my rescue and I was released early."

Galathil raised his eyebrows, "Was Galdor being an ass again?"

"Galathil."

"What?" Galathil asked innocently, "It was just a question."

Legolas smiled, but didn't answer.

"So, he was then. Legolas, ignore him. He's hot-tempered on his best days, and today wasn't going to be his best day. Don't listen to anything he said. We did all we could do."

"I hate reporting failures, and there have been few successes to report of late."

Galathil walked back to Legolas and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Frustration with a situation is fine, but do not let that lead to self-doubt. The warriors trust you. I trust you. We would not follow anyone else as we follow you."

Legolas nodded. "Thank you, Galathil," he said after a pause.

"Are you done today after you work the assignments?"

"Yes, I may visit the training fields and my father wishes to speak to me, but I plan to rest after that. That is what you really wanted to know, isn't it?"

"Got it in one, my friend. The only thing I would add to your list is a visit to the healers. Don't tell me you don't need it, I see the way you favor that side."

"Just being careful with it."

"No you're not. If you were being careful, you'd be staying off your feet as much as possible and you'd have already visited the healers."

"I am fine."

"You aren't. You will be, if you take care of yourself. If you don't get that cut cleaned properly and it gets infected, I am not coming to visit you healing wards."

Legolas rolled his eyes, "Oh no, not that," he replied sarcastically, "I thought you were needed on the training fields?"

Galathil grinned, "Yes. But in all seriousness, Legolas, see the healers," he paused and his expression darkened, "We can't afford to be down anymore warriors right now." Galathil left, leaving Legolas to ponder how to organize too few warriors into too many patrols.

Things were reasonably well organized for the next fortnight, which had been taken into account when they planned for the most recent assault. Some adjustments were necessary based on the most recent casualties, but they wouldn't be in real trouble for a couple of weeks. For today, he would be satisfied with solving the most immediate problems and drawing up drafts for the following weeks. He could review it with Galathil and the other captains tomorrow and get their input then.

He poured over the lists and started making notes while filling in proposed assignments. The same warriors were frequently grouped together when the captains found teams that worked with particular efficiency. Some of those needed to be shuffled to account for the dead.

Legolas glanced between the lists of warriors who needed assignments and the list of the dead. How many more names would be added to the second list? Legolas bit his lip and unexpectedly found tears blurring his vision. Five dead in one battle. He hadn't had time to process it while they were in the south; pausing for grief then would only have put others at risk. He also had to push aside his own pain when speaking to the families of the fallen. They needed his strength, not his sorrow. The council was also not a place for such thoughts; it was for assessing threats and coming up with solutions. Now, however, alone with the lists of names, he finally had a moment to himself. These elves were his friends, he knew all of them by name and cared for them. He knew their strengths, he knew their goals, and he knew their families.

He forced himself to draw in a deep breath. It was harder to deal with this right now because he was tired and hurting. He needed to finish what absolutely had to be done and take a break, even if it was only for the night. He had been going non-stop for weeks and needed a moment to himself.

He focused again on the lists of names. Concentrating on the task at hand, he continued to fill in assignments.

It took a few hours, but eventually he had a plan. It was good enough for tonight. He wanted to look at it with fresh eyes again tomorrow before showing it to the other captains for feedback and presenting it to the council, but he had accomplished his task.

Legolas glanced out the window, the sun was beginning to set. The novice training sessions would be ending soon, but they wouldn't be done for the day yet. He hadn't dropped in on their training in several weeks, and wished to see their progress. Training timelines for new warriors had been accelerated in recent years. Before, there was no hurry to progress a young novice to become a qualified warrior. Now, need hastened their training, but he would not send them out on even the supposedly safe patrols until he was satisfied that they were ready.

He stood and stretched, stopping short when he felt the pull on his injury. Despite the pain, he would not be going to the healing wings. The healers had enough to deal with right now; he would not add to their burden tonight. He could clean it himself later. He was afraid that if he went there, they would try to make him spend the night. They did not need the added burden of another patient and he needed to spend a night in his own bed.

A light breeze cooled the evening. Legolas breathed in the distinctive scent of early fall in the forest as he approached the training fields, looking for Galathil and losing himself in the familiar sounds of the weapons classes. Commands rang out and blades clashed. Young novices laughed with each other and grunted in effort. Instructors called out corrections and explained proper technique. Some of the classes had already concluded and Legolas did not see Galathil. Legolas hoped he had already returned to his home—he needed rest too. The coming weeks would be difficult until more of their number were recovered.

Legolas approached an archery range for beginners and watched the young ones testing their new skills.

Familiar commands filled the air, "Draw!"

"Hold!"

"Fire!"

As one, the class released their arrows. As one, the arrows flew towards the targets, many found their marks and a few missed. This was still a new craft for these elves. The class repeated the exercise again and again, trying to gain muscle memory in the new movements. They had learned the theory, and now it was time to master the skill.

Legolas leaned against the fence that separated the archery field from the rest of the practice areas. The novices did not know that Legolas watched them, but it would have made little difference. Legolas routinely watched the junior ranks train. Already, he and the other captains had plans for many of them. Some stood out in archery; others, in knife or sword work, hand-to-hand combat, or strategic thinking. Matching each aspiring warrior with the right training, skill-set, task, and leadership was essential to the army's success. But that matching would not come for several years for these elves. For now, they were tasked only with learning everything they could.

One of their instructors, Duilin, approached Legolas, "They are doing well, my lord."

"Aye," Legolas agreed, "Many here seem to have a talent for the craft."

"Perhaps a demonstration could inspire them further," Duilin suggested with a smile.

Legolas grinned back, though it did not reach his eyes. "Not today, I'm afraid," he carefully stretched his side and grimaced when the wound pulled, "I took an injury in the south, nothing serious, but if the healers didn't come after me for using a bow unnecessarily so soon after, Galathil would."

Duilin nodded and together they continued to watch the training session as the young elves fired off three more shots and instructors corrected technique. The class ended and a cease fire was called and the novices went to retrieve their arrows. One novice, a small, wiry, young elf, shuffled beyond his target. Pulling arrows from the mound of built to catch arrows that went astray with a dejected air; only a few of his arrows had struck the target.

Legolas continued to watch him as he made his way back to the other side of the field with his classmates to turn in their arrows. Duilin saw his gaze, "That is Naurdenal. He has a brilliant mind for strategy, but has struggled with several skill-based classes, archery included. Not for lack of trying though—he always applies himself fully."

Legolas had not seen him shoot, but did not like the cloud of disappointment that surrounded the young elf. Naurdenal lingered behind the class as another instructor spoke to him. Making a decision, he approached the novice, "Keep your arrows, Naurdenal. Come, and try again."

Naurdenal started at the sight of Legolas. Seeing the prince watching the class practice was one thing, being approached and addressed by name was another. "My lord," he sputtered quickly, moving to bow.

Legolas waved off the formality, "Come, choose a target and shoot at your own pace."

Legolas scrutinized his movements as he hastily drew an arrow, knocked it, and pulled back on the bow string, quickly letting it fly and missing wildly this time in his haste. The young elf was clearly frazzled by the presence of his prince.

Legolas smiled at the young elf, "Try again, slowly this time. Don't worry about the pace set by your instructors for now, just take your time."

Naurdenal repeated the process more slowly, giving Legolas more time to analyze his movements without having to sort out what errors were caused by haste and what errors were caused by lack of technique. An arrow was drawn and knocked before the young elf pulled back on the bow string, there was room for improvement in all of his movements, but nothing Legolas had seen yet would account for the consistent inaccuracy in his firing. He merely looked like a beginner.

Then Legolas saw it. In the instant before Naurdenal released his arrow, he gripped the bow tightly in his hand. That momentary tension as he released the arrow would result in inaccuracy in firing even if he was doing everything else proficiently. Legolas smiled, it would take practice, but this was not difficult to fix.

"Well done! Truly, it was," Legolas added at Naurdenal's skeptic look, "Your stance is good, you have the strength to draw the bow properly, and your knocking point is fine."

Naurdenal looked skeptical, his eyes drifting to the target that was bereft of arrows, "But—"

Legolas waived off his response, moving to stand next to him, "The moment before you fire, you grip your bow tightly. It may be caused by nerves about whether your arrow will fly true or you may feel like the tight grip will steady your aim, but it will just twist your bow slightly, causing your aim to be off. A grip like that will affect your shot differently every time, making it impossible to control," Legolas reached for Naurdenal's bow and demonstrated as he spoke, "Relax your grip, let it be firm, but not tense. Hold the bow gently as you knock, draw, aim, and release. Keep the pressure steady throughout the process. Even without a tight grip, your bow will still be anchored and held steady by your hand, you don't not need that much pressure."

Legolas handed the bow back, "Try it, without an arrow first. Draw, aim for the target, and release the string a few times. Concentrate on keeping your left hand relaxed."

Naurdenal tentatively raised the bow, he drew and released the string several times without an arrow and looked questioningly at Legolas.

"Better," Legolas nodded his approval, "Now try it with an arrow."

Naurdenal raised the bow again, drew an arrow, knocked it, pulled back on the string and aimed.

"Relax," Legolas reminded him softly.

Naurdenal consciously eased up on his grip, and fired the arrow. It struck the target in the bottom left quadrant. Naurdenal looked at Legolas uncertainly. "Again," Legolas said.

The young elf fired twice more, each time hitting the bottom left part of the target. Naurdenal tried to suppress a smile, he had hoped to hit the center, but was pleased to hit the target.

"Yes, much better," Legolas nodded his approval, "It's just fine that you aren't hitting the center right now, you're putting the arrows on the target and, even better, you're grouping them. It means you're consistent, and you can improve from here. You have a controlled shot when you keep that hand relaxed, it is impressive at this point in your training."

Naurdenal flushed and ducked his head, "Thank you, my lord."

Legolas smiled widely, "You're most welcome. Go join your classmates, as I recall the fun begins when the lesson ends."

Naurdenal grinned and nodded as he darted toward the training halls.

Duilin had been watching. He smiled at Legolas, "Your assistance is always welcome. It is with good reason that you are considered the finest archer in the Woodland Realm, if not all of Arda. I have been trying to help him for a while now with no success, it took you only a moment to see and correct the problem."

"That tension while firing is easy to miss. They know they are supposed to keep their hand relaxed, and so most only tense as they fire, you must be looking for that specific problem to see it. Even then, it lasts but a moment."

"You have my thanks, my prince. Naurdenal was growing frustrated. It was difficult to see a young one with such potential struggling."

Legolas thought back to when he had first started training with a bow. He had faced many challenges while learning the various skills necessary to be a warrior, but the bow had never been a struggle. He had been a natural, and he had loved the craft. The weapon had felt like a natural extension of his body from the first time he held one; everything about it made sense. The joy he took in it led him to practice almost obsessively. He had improved rapidly. It had been play when he first started. The realm had not been at war then and Legolas had wanted to learn. As the darkness grew, Legolas felt pressure from his father to become a better warrior as fast as he could. Then, practicing with his bow was a break. The archery range was a place where he could still be productive with his time, but forget about his personal troubles and those facing his people. There was only the bow, the arrow, and the target. Nothing else mattered. He still took the same joy in firing his bow, even if he didn't get to just practice for the sake of practicing as much as he used to.

Legolas made his way back to the palace. He would see his father and then go to bed—sleep would do him more good than anything else right now.