Through Wind and Fire (LOTR)

XXVIX

There can be miracles

When you believe

Though hope is frail

It's hard to kill.

- The Prince of Egypt, 1999

Courage cannot erase our fear

Courage is when we face our fear

- Alan Menken, Newsies, 'Seize the Day'

A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.

- Proverbs 16:9

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"You have done well, Legolas," Thranduil praised his young son, who beamed at the compliment.

"Thank you, Ada." The prince smiled and followed his father back to the royal wing, all the while a large smile plastered on his face.

Legolas was happy–no, ecstatic that his father had finally begun teaching him the art of sword fighting. Long he had watched the older ellyn spar and march off to be in the Forest Guard, and he often dreamed of joining them someday. Thranduil had given him a beginner's course with the sword, albeit a very light wooden one, but a sword nonetheless. But what Legolas truly desired to do was learn the bow and arrow. The prince was mesmerised by the grace of the archers, the smooth bend of the bow, the quick fly of the arrow.

At times he had sneaked down to where the targets were, and he had watched the archers practise in silence.

In his playtime, for he was but twelve years of age, the prince mimicked the movements he had seen the archers perform. And now as he followed his father to his room, he bounded about on his toes, pantomiming the actions of drawing a bow and killing orcs. Of course, he had never seen an orc or goblin in his life, but pretending would suffice for Legolas.

Thranduil saw as his son leapt about, pulling his arm back as if to pull a taut bowstring. Legolas let the 'arrow' fly, creating a swishing sound with his mouth. It was a jab to the heart of the Elvenking, for now he saw how Legolas was no longer an elfling. His face no longer held the roundness that small children bear, and his toddle was gone. Now the prince walked more sure of himself, still very small, but no longer a little elfling. Yet he still held the pure innocence and faith that little children have, and to see him act as if he were at war pained Thranduil.

The King of Mirkwood would keep his son far away from war and bloodshed if it was so possible. Legolas would be expected to join the Guard, but the king had already decided he would put that as far into the future as he could find possible. Never did he wish to place Legolas into such a dangerous position, where he ran the terrible risk of being killed every moment. Legolas was his son, his little leaf, his child, his prince. And now Legolas went from his warplay to skipping. Thranduil almost breathed out in relief. Images of a grown Legolas lying dead on a battlefield appeared in the Elvenking's mind, and he grimaced, only wanting to see his son skip like a merry child, not make believe he was at war.

The father and son walked in silence, save Legolas' swishing sounds that came each time he drew his invisible bow.

Then the prince caught eye of his father's now brisker pace and leapt around with more agility, finding the way to keep up with his father. Of course, a walk that spanned the entire palace would tire Legolas if he only walked, but now that he did not walk, instead choosing to bound about, he would be tired soon. Soon the prince had begun to tire, and he slowed down, dragging his steps in a tired manner.