A/N: Wow! People actually like me! I think. Thank you so much! I'm gonna work on translation by putting in less Elvish. I hope you guys like this chapter because I'm supposed to be working on my TWO projects due Monday, but I'm doing this instead.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except I guess Sìrëwen and her dad and Amrun and stuff I make up, but probably not because don't you need a copyright? So nothing's really mine.

Chapter 2: Enter Legolas

The prince sighed, crossing his arms and slouching down in his chair. It was breakfast in the castle of Mirkwood, and Prince Legolas had only poked at his food. He glanced around his chambers. The theme of the rooms, like most of Mirkwood, was the dark colors of the forest. A rather large place, it was actually a small group of rooms joined together.

The largest room of course, was the one which contained his bed. A large, four-poster bed rested in the center of the back wall. A thick, velvet curtain, the color of autumn leaves was held back with a sash at each corner. The side-table, made of the same dark mahogany-colored wood as the bed frame, held a single lantern and an opened book turned upside-down. There was also a large, cherry wood armoire, detailed with intricate curves and twists, and designs of arrows, swords, and daggers. When the two doors came together, they formed the image of a crown and the family crest of the Mirkwood royals.

Another of the rooms in the prince's chambers was his drawing room. It was adjacent to the bedroom and probably the prince's favorite room. Rather than being used for drawing, the room instead functioned as a kind of library. The prince's drawing-table was pushed against the wall near the entrance, neglected. Two of the four walls were covered with bookshelves, full with books. The back wall had heavy shelves on two sides and a rather large fireplace in the center. The fireplace was nearly half the height of the wall and was covered with intricate designs traced into the gold plating. The massive, sweet-scented fir logs were unlit at the time, but many nights the young prince liked to read ancient books in a large, burgundy armchair which sat directly in front of the hearth. The third wall of the drawing room held a pair of double doors, curtained in silk silvery-lavender drapes that contrasted sharply with the darker atmosphere of the rest of the room. These doors opened up to a balcony, which overlooked the opening to the forest and the castle's archery range. This was a nice place to sit and think on a hot summer's day.

The last room of the prince's chambers was a small dining room. It had one floor-to-ceiling window with light drapes, the color of the leaves of fruit detailed with thin, dancing lines in the golden color of a field of wheat. This window overlooked a large pond. It was in the middle of an extensive field spotted with the occasional apple or golden pear tree, making it another place Prince Legolas liked to spend his time. He would take his faithful horse Arod out for a gallop then sit by the lakeside and think. Petting Arod, he would think about how he was without companionship, reminding the horse that he was the prince's only friend..

This last room was where Legolas currently sat, eating his breakfast. He was alone, which made the room seem all the more cavernous and empty. He was alone, that is, except for an old nanny. She backed into the room, carrying a bundle of the prince's dirty clothes. Suddenly, she turned around. "Taren Legolas, eat your breakfast," she sighed.

"And just why should I do what you tell me to? You aren't my mother," the prince retorted, sneering.

"You should do what I say because I told you to do it," she snapped back, equally as fierce. "And in case you've forgotten, I'm your nanny so you have to obey."

This didn't faze the prince at all. He raised an eyebrow in defiance. "In case you didn't know, my word far overrules yours."

"Hmph! And how, pray tell, does a bratty 11-year-old prince have a higher authority than me?"

"Oh, I see that my title hasn't slipped your mind after all, but it appears that the extent of my power has. I am your prince and as such I am your ruler, meaning that my power is much more expansive than yours. And don't forget that besides that, woman, I own you!"

The ignorant nanny finally yielded, but as she turned away, Legolas' keen Elvish senses caught her eye roll and her muttered comment.

The prince chuckled to himself. Could she be any more stupid? Obviously she was forgetting that she was in the presence of an Elf. She was also forgetting that there was an armed guard outside of the door at this very moment and that with a single word or a snap of his finger, he could have her imprisoned, banished, or even killed as if he were asking for an apple from a plentiful tree. Now that he thought of it, that wasn't such a bad idea. After their latest little squabble, she had begun to bore him. Thinking for a short while longer he decided he could use some entertainment.

"Guard," he said simply, yet loud enough for the nanny to know she was in trouble. Quickly and silently, the chestnut-headed guard entered, his sword and knives sheathed. He looked to his prince, awaiting orders. "Take this woman away -- to the dungeons. Yes, lock her up. And don't give her food or-- or water!" A slight smile came to the prince's lips as he spouted any punishment he could think of, wanting to take full advantage of his power as royalty.

Hearing a voice at the door, her turned, hoping to catch another servant to whom he could deal an unneeded punishment. He blushed slightly upon seeing his father standing in the doorway, chuckling at his son's 'ruling'.

"So, is this how you'd rule in my stead? Dealing out harsh judgments at the slightest offense?" King Thandruil asked, laughter heard in his voice.

Legolas refused to join his father's good mood, "Well, I think the foolish wench deserves it. She knew she was overstepping her boundaries."

"Watch your tongue, ion nin (my son)," the king of Mirkwood warned. "Now what exactly did this poor woman do to anger you?" he added, casting a glance at the now very submissive, very frightened nanny.

"She had the audacity to say that her word was more powerful than mine," said the prince, confident that he was right. Getting no positive response from his father, he changed his approach. "Tell her she's wrong, ada," Prince Legolas whined. "Tell her that as prince whatever I say goes. Ada, tell her she was out of line to talk that way to her future king."

Again, the king chuckled at his youngest son. "Legolas, my lad, is that anyway to show authority? Whining like a spoiled child?" King Thandruil decided not to remind the young prince that as the king's youngest heir, he didn't have a chance at the throne. The guard, meanwhile, had only grabbed the target of the prince's ire by the arm, knowing that his judgments were rash and child's-play, yet fearing disobeying a royal. The king dismissed him with a quick nod. Noting the disbelieving glance from his son, he added, "Take the maid, too."

After the guard and the dismissed nanny had left, King Thandruil turned back to his son. "Legolas, ion nin, why didn't you just tell me if you wanted a new maid."

The prince sulked in his chair. "Because you never listen," he muttered, dejectedly.

The king seemed taken aback by his son's latest accusation. "That isn't true! Legolas I listen to you plenty --"

"No you don't!" the prince yelled back angrily. "You're always too busy with a peace treaty, or a trade proposition, or something! You spend more time with your quill and your desk than you do with me!"

King Thandruil started to comment, but he realized that his son was right. "I'm sorry ion nin, you are right. But I promise, I wi'll make it a point to try to spend more time with you." His son's only response was to sink lower into his chair and absently toy with a lock of his sunbeam-light hair. He bent down so that he was eye-to-eye with his son. "I mean it, Legolas. In fact," he started to smile, "why don't I start now. Tell me everything. Everything that's been going on in your life."

At this, hints of a smile tugged at the young prince's lips. They quickly formed a rare grin. "Alright, ada. For starters-"

Just at that moment, one of the king's advisers poked his head in the room. "Sorry to interrupt, sire, but there are urgent matters that need tending to."

"Excuse me, but I was certain that there were no events happening in the castle today. Well, the new maid perhaps, but I certainly wouldn't consider getting a new scullery-maid an 'urgent matter'," replied the king with a chuckle.

An impatient sigh sounded from the advisor, who had long, grey hair, eyebrows of the same color that seemed to be constantly furrowed, a somewhat beaky nose, and a permanent frown. "Sire, urgent or not, matters need attending to," he said, determined to break into the father-son moment.

King Thandruil sighed and got up. "I'm sorry, pen neth (little one), but we must continue this discussion later," he said, upon seeing his son's crestfallen face.

The king followed his attendant out the door and had he not been lost in his own thoughts, he might have heard his son's last comment, muttered to an empty room:

"I'm not little."

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A/N (yeah another one): Um, in many fanfics, Thandruil is mean, but I'm making him nice because I feel like it. It's actually the advisor who's mean. Also, I need a name for that guy, I can't think of one. The last part of this chapter might be kinda weak cuz I wrote it late at night, and I was kind of brain-dead, sorry. Review please and if anyone has a name for Mr. Mean-Adviser-Man cuz he's got a recurring role. I'm gonna shut up now before I hurt myself.