As winter passed into the first breezes of spring, the two princes grew in size and consciousness. When they began to walk (and run), I found myself chasing them down corridors and even into the forest itself as they disregarded my instructions and ignored their father's reprimands. It was curious to me that Belegorn was the one to instigate such disobedience. As he was eldest, I would have assumed that his mantle would be that of responsibility, and the younger would be the tempter of naughtiness. Legolas was a sweet boy, and it was apparent to me that he did not want to go along with Belegorn's rash schemes, but he did out of admiration for his brother and a deep longing for that to be returned.

When they were only a few years old, and perfectly capable of reason and insight, I became very angry one day to find that Belegorn had acquired an injured bird in the forest and had brought it inside their shared bedroom, only to poke it with a stick and agitate the poor creature. When I came upon the scene, Legolas was crouched at Belegorn's side, watching intently though not participating.

"You know better than to torture anything under the sun, let alone one that is helpless!" I cried, scooping up the bird to save it from further jabbing. "What would drive you to such a thing?"

Belegorn stood and straightened his back, and I noticed the glint in his eye that he got when he felt that he was being wronged. "Father says that one day I will rule for the forest, and that I must understand the suffering and delights of all the living creatures," he recited in a clear voice. "I was merely testing how I am to understand such feelings."

I could have fumed at him that whole day, but I checked my temper as had become my habit in the last years. "Go to your father," I said. "I will be there shortly and then we will discuss just how to understand those feelings."

Belegorn ducked out of the room, but not before kicking the doorframe in obstinacy.

"Mother?" Legolas came to my side as I sat to examine the bird. "Will it be able to fly again?"

"I believe so," I said, studying a broken wing. "We have only to treat it properly."

"Belegorn does it a lot, you know," he continued. "Torturing animals, I mean. He sets traps sometimes and then when he catches something, prods it and bothers it until he gets a rise out of it."

I could only stare. I had not been aware of such things – I let the boys roam the forest at will, as there were many elves to keep watch and virtually no dangers close to the new city. Thranduil and I had both agreed that exploration and free reign over their own play was beneficial to young children, but now I began to question myself.

"May I go play now, Mother?" Legolas questioned, and I could see by his earnestness that he was not overtly affected by what had just happened.

"Go, my sweet," I pulled his close, briefly, to kiss his little forehead. "Do not wander too far."

Thranduil's face was murderous, though perhaps it was a bit strong to apply when in the context of disciplining a small child. It was quite apparent that Belegorn had gone too far for his father's liking. I could only stand and watch as the king's displeasure was revealed.

"Perhaps you misunderstand what I meant when I told you that you must understand what the creatures in the forest feel," Thranduil was saying, arms folded as he stared down at his sons's stiff figure, disapproving.

"It was clear enough at the time," Belegorn muttered, mutinous.

"Apparently not enough to make you empathetic."

"A king does not need to be empathetic," the boy contradicted. "Like you said, a king needs to be strong and sure."

"None of those traits are exclusive," I spoke. "You can be strong and compassionate."

"Come here," Thranduil commanded, and Belegorn skulked into the vicinity of his much taller father. The king knelt and reached for his son's hands. Once they were locked together, Thranduil closed his eyes and I saw Belegorn's own face grow slack. They stood still as statues for several minutes until the prince yanked his hands away, suddenly frightened.

"I hope that now you may have more wisdom to guide your actions," Thranduil said.

Belegorn was shocked at what he has just experienced – that was clear enough. He looked from his father to me, and looking as if he had been utterly betrayed, ran from the room. I rose my eyebrows at my husband.

"You probably did not need to try to teach him by sharing the pain of a dying bear," I commented.

He sighed and stood. "It was a hart. Nonetheless, I was too angry. I should not have done so."

"No," I agreed. "But maybe he will begin to understand."

"Or he will hate me forever."

"I doubt that," I said, coming to him and holding him in a tight embrace. It had been a long time since I last properly touched him, and his heady scent of pine needles enveloped my senses. "Mmm...young children forget pain easily, my love."

I felt his nose nuzzle my ear. "Do you think it is time to begin their formal education?" he whispered.

"Ah, yes," I replied, becoming increasingly distracted as his hot breath met my neck. "I think…I think…"

The moon had risen by the time we were able to speak again, wrapped close together in a nearly desperate embrace. We had not spent very much time lately with just the two of us, and I had already felt my anxieties melt from my shoulders. Thranduil breathed deeply beside me, and I knew he felt the same.

"I missed you," he said, eyes sweeping my body as he stroked my hair. "I do hate being king sometimes. I wish I could chase our sons with you."

I laughed. "I might trade you the responsibility, if you ask it."

"You know I cannot."

We lay in silence. I became hypnotized by the dying fire as I thought about our children and what was to be done.

"I believe that the best course of action would be for Belegorn to become my apprentice," Thranduil finally spoke. "He would learn quickly, and I would always be able to look after him."

"What of Legolas?" I asked.

The king looked at me, and smiled. "You should take him on rounds to supervise the watch posts, and have him sit by your side during councils."

"So we divide them," I sighed. "I would rather not."

"I feel the same, but I cannot handle training both – and how would you fill your time if not with mothering?"

A snort escaped me. "We might try conceiving a better behaved child."

"A female?"

"Whatever you would like."

"I might take you up on that offer."

I wish I could say that our sons were pleased with the arrangements that had been made, but that would be a lie. I was quite annoyed, though arguably impressed, with the colorful words that spilled from Belegorn's mouth as he perceived this treachery. Legolas was quiet through the exchange, but I could see that he was still mildly mutinous. But despite the backlash, the following day was the first of their training.

With little instruction of how to spend our time besides Thranduil's vague "supervise the watch posts, and sit in council", I asked Legolas what he would like to learn.

"What do you mean, Mother?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I can teach you whatever skills you would like to learn," I explained. We were sitting on the front steps of the mountainous palace, watching craftsman argue about how the ceilings should be carved. "Would you like to learn to carve wood? Cook? Heal? Grow plants, raise animals?"

Legolas was silent. "I think…" he paused. "I do not know what I should learn, Mother. If Belegorn is to be king one day, what am I to be? Should I not learn my future duties as he is?"

I wondered at how he had contemplated the situation. "I suppose that you will be allowed to choose what you do," I said, choosing my words carefully. "And you will be the best at whatever that will be."

"The king protects the people, right?"

"Correct."

"I would like to protect people as well. Might I learn to fight?"

I sighed. "Your choice has thought behind it. I will teach you to fight, and you will be the best general Belegorn could ask for."