This is set when Aragorn is still in his early teens (before he knows his real name), on one of his visits to Greenwood.

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He was between Thranduil and Eloissa at one of the many market tables, watching as Thranduil counted out four dozen arrows and requested payment for them. Plus a few extra coins, as 'thanks for their fine craftsmanship,' Thranduil claimed.

Estel kept his frown of confusion and questions to himself until they were far out of earshot from the merchant, "Why did you do that? Mortals could never craft arrows as good as the Greenwood Elves."

"Perhapes," Thranduil muttered softly, putting an arm around Estel's shoulders and bending down slightly to accommodate for the height difference, "This village has never been overly wealthy, but these last few winters have been harsher than average and early this spring they were attacked by a stray warg pack which cost them many strong, young, and abled people."

"Why not just give them the coins then?"

"One of the only things these people have left is their pride. Pride in their craft, pride in supporting their family, pride in being a part of a bigger community. I want to build these people back up, not take away what little they have left. Sometimes, pride is the only thing keeping one's heart beating."

Estel nodded, doing his best to file the information away for later.

Keeping his arm around Estel's young slim shoulders, Thranduil guided him to a tree that spread shade over much of the market square from his home in the middle. Without comment or much effort Eloissa leaped into the branches, leaving the other two to sit alone against the bark.

"Tell me, Estel, of a similarity you see between this village and her people and the last that we visited?"

Estel frowned in thought and looked around at the market. Trying to take everything in, trying to filter out the important from the unimportant. "The food," He blurted out after the fear he had taken too long to answer weighed too heavily.

Thranduil's voice was as calm and patient as it always was, in Estel's personal experience. "What about the food?"

"Their food has different names, but tastes almost the same. Looks almost the same."

"Why do you think that might be?"

"Several reasons, most likely. Their soil and climate are likely the same, so the crops would be too. There are not many villages this close to the mountains, so those that are here have only each other to trade with, marry each other, and learn from."

Thranduil nodded deeply, "Good, very good. Tell me how they differ."

Estel scrutinized his surroundings once more, taking a bit longer to soak it all in and sort it all appropriately before speaking. "Children, I don't see any children running around playing."

"Correct, is it because they do not have children?"

"No, I don't think so… If that were the case, they would have abandoned the village already. Sought to join another close to them."

"Then where are they?"

Estel looked around again and truly could not see or hear a single child, "They must be inside. Hidden away, or…"

"Or?"

"Or working. To make up for the extra labo after the Warg attack."

Thranduil nodded deeply again, "You can tell very much about a place and its people by their children."

"What else can you tell a great deal about a place from?"

"By their taverns and their gates."

"Gates because… gates that are well guarded means there is a reason for them to be so. If they question and search everyone and everything that enters or even comes close to the gates, you will first have to prove yourself honest and trustworthy before you can know or help them." He frowned up to Thranduil, "Why the taverns?"

"A quiet tavern means that the people have no money to spare, not even on the vices that so commonly take their riches. It also means that either the lands around the village are not safe enough for traveling, or, the village itself is safe enough for visiting."

Estel nodded seriously again, filing all of this information away with the rest of his lessons today.

"You have done very well today, Estel, and should be proud of yourself." Thranduil's serious expression softened, one of his large hands came to rest on top of his hair which was ruffled with warmth and affection, "Come, let us look at the rest of the stalls. They're very good at wood carvings here, perhaps we can find something for you to bring back to your Ada as a gift, hmm?"

"I would like that very much."