Chapter 3

Author's Note: First I would like to thank everyone for the reviews. It's very helpful and encouraging. This is my first fic so I'm still debating some formatting and length issues, but for now I will update as soon as I can and keep each chapter fairly short.

As the great doors of Thranduil's halls opened, all Gimli could do was stare in amazement. Sure he had been to the glittering caves, Lothlorien, Moria (though not in its prime), but the Halls of Mirkwood were something of a different nature. A massive cavern seemed to go on endlessly, shooting out smaller branches of tunnels, all ornately designed into rooms and hallways. Holes from the sides and top of the mountain provided sunlight which glistened off stones and jewels, and the air danced in its rays. Pathways like roots of a great tree led up to a throne which seemed to look over the forest like a great horned owl would when protecting its nest. When Gimli looked at the throne, it was empty. Legolas looked at it confused (or was it just the same expression from before?) then turned to a guard speaking quickly in Silvan which the dwarf did not understand well.

Turning to Gimli he said, "the guard here will show you your rooms. You can clean up in there and perhaps we will have some clothes that may fit. I have business I must take care of elsewhere. I shall find you when I am done."

Dismayed at being left behind, but also thankful for a warm bath and bed, the dwarf complied.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, his father was preparing for the feast in his chambers. There were many occasions in which it would take him all day to dress and prepare speeches and seating arrangements.

A strange feeling washed over Legolas. He felt nervous and timid. His father had approved of his mission to Mordor, yet in his heart he knew the pain it caused him, and the duty he left behind. So now, knocking on a door he had longed to enter for so many months, he hesitated.

He knocked lightly, then twice more assuredly.

"A tule sinome" he heard his father's deep voice on the other side.

He carefully opened the door and stepped in. He saw the familiar open chambers of the King. Several couches rested in the middle near a small fire. A balcony overlooked the forest in all its glory, now purple in the dusk, and in a corner behind several curtains was a large bed. In the opposite side was a dressing area and hot spring in a separate room which had been made into a bath. Water poured down it like a fountain providing a shower of cool water.

The king was dressed in a fine robe of shimmering green. Many rings adorned his hands, and his springtime crown rested lightly atop his brow. Once golden hair was now slightly silver, and a troubled look was on his face as he stared into the the flames, back turned to Legolas.

"Faethalion, did you speak with the Lady Galadriel yet?" Thranduil asked. When he heard no response he turned around.

Dumbstruck, Legolas could think of nothing to do but bow lowly and lay his bow before his father's feet as he usually did after returning from patrols. He did not dare look up until strong hands lifted his chin.

"Ionneg, you have returned."

Legolas had a million questions and things he wanted to say, but instead he settled for, "why and when was the name changed? Eyrn Lasgalen? O' Elbereth must everything change!?"

Thranduil looked bewildered. Legolas sighed, "I'm so sorry, my lord. I have so many questions. It's been too long since I've walked these halls and-"

"Do not apologize for anything, Legolas. All will be explained in time, and if I'm not mistaken you have some explaining to do yourself, for that is not the bow you left home with," Thranduil smiled, "Now there is a feast I must attend, in your honor, might I add, so you should come as well."

Legolas looked down at himself; covered in dirt, sweaty, hair a mess (by elven standards at least) clothes torn and boots worn down to the point of uselessness.

"Could I perhaps have a change of clothes? A bath perhaps?" He asked shyly.

"Naturally. You may have whatever you wish. Galion!" The King called. Quickly, the butler poked his head through the door, eyes wide as he looked upon Legolas. "Find some fresh robes, and the prince's crown."

"Yes hir nin", the silvan replied, bowing.

After bathing, Legolas felt as though he had shed a layer of skin off. His tan appearance was toned down once the grime was rinsed off. He now sat on a couch in dressing robes, his slightly damp hair being braided by Thranduil into a relaxed yet regal braid. It had grown much longer since he had left Rivendell, reaching almost to his waist.

"You look like Beleg Cuthalion," Thranduil remarked.

Legolas laughed, "I doubt that. Besides, my skill is nowhere near his was."

"You were gifted a bow of the Galadhrim, by none other than Celeborn. He does not give out gifts lightly, and that is no common bow," Thranduil paused, "might I ask how he knew of your skill? Lord Elrond knew because of his travels here, but Lorien has little knowledge of the Greenwood."

Legolas smirked a little, then proudly said, "I beat all there best archers at a competition."

"Do tell how"

Both elves looked behind them. Standing was Faethalion, a tall and Sindar. His hair was silver and his eyes dark. His hands were strong and his face weathered with turmoil and wisdom, yet fair he was like the elves of old. And he was old. He had advised Oropher and was present during the days of Thingol. He had also taught Legolas how to use a bow, while Thranduil taught him knife work.

"I would like to know how my student compared" he shrugged.

"It was during the middle of our stay in Lorien," started Legolas, "I forget how many days, but the fellowship was well rested and thankful for the kindness we had been shown. Gimli Gloin's son and Peregrin Took, a hobbit, had been watching Haldir and his brothers practice for sometime. Pippin asked if other elves had as much skill with a bow as those in Lorien.

'I saw very few elves in Rivendell wield anything but a sword,' said Gimli.

'The elves of Lorien are far more skilled than our other kin,' replied Haldir. Then he readied another arrow. I suppose it was immature...but as he fired my arrow came out of a tree I had been sitting in for some time. It hit his, pulling it to the ground. I lept out of my perch as said,

'I heard differently!'.

Haldir was either furious or amazed- either one was fine with me- and said, 'then let us see who is greater in skill, the woods or Lorien or Mirkwood!'. By nightfall we had nearly the whole city watching. New challenges were proposed constantly. Each we agreed to. I lost a few I will admit, but by the end I came out winning the majority. There was no foul play thankfully. However, we did make such a riot that the lord and lady of Lorien stood to watch as well as the rest of the Fellowship."

"What did these tasks involve?"asked Faethalion.

"Shooting apples off eleth's heads, leaping from trees while shooting at a targets, shooting three or more wine bottles before they fell to the earth-"

"I am surprised you weren't kicked out of Lorien!"exclaimed Thranduil.

"That's was Estel said," was all Legolas said, his cheeks slightly red.

"Beating the march warden is no small task," Faethalion said moving over to pour some wine, "I knew Beleg Cuthalion, better than your father, and I believe you could have caught up with him. You've accomplished much young Greenleaf. You have brought pride to your country though many do not know it yet. I expect you will tell them tonight of your true reason for being away?"

Legolas looked down, "They must have believed me to have abandoned them. Watch did you tell them of my absence, for Lord Elrond only told few of this mission?"

Thranduil turned aside, "we said what we could and that was you had been caught up in war elsewhere. We could not speak of the ring, nor did we wish to sully your name by making it seem as though you had fled to Rivendell. However, tonight your people deserve to know if you are ready to tell the tale."

"Why would I not be ready, father? Legolas asked.

The King and his advisor looked at each other sadly, then Thranduil simply said,

"Say what you can ionneg"

A small knock, and Galion returned with a pile of clothes. A silver circlet with green leaves sat atop them. His tunic was a deep blue and new ebony black boots were given to him. His cloak was silver made of thick crushed green velvet on the inside. It may have been the nicest clothes he had ever worn. Looking in the mirror now, he did not see himself as he did two years ago. He stood taller and stronger, and although his kind did not age, he looked older and wiser, more like his father but full of strength and hope.

A loud clap startled him out of his meditation.

"Come now, Legolas! It is time for your feast."

He took a long breath and followed the King and captain to the waiting kingdom outside.