General disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's. Sorry. Anything of his isn't mine, so don't think it is.

Otherwise, enjoy!

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"Would you like to hear a story, children? If so, gather around and I shall tell you a story about—"

"Legolas!" The younger girl chirped up, her blond hair glowing in the slight light of the moon since she was sitting closest to the window, obviously reserving the window seat for later, as the story wore on.

"Prince Legolas," her older sister countered, tucking her knees to the side as a true lady should. She was sitting on the floor in front of my bed.

Their brother sat upon it with a small frown upon his finely boned face which was held in his hands, his elbows resting lightly on his crossed knees. "Do you know any stories about Legolas?"

"My darling child, I know all the stories there are to know about the prince. After all, I was there from the time he was born, was I not?"

The three siblings looked dubiously at each other, the eldest at least wondering if her stories would ever be told to young ones. They would.

"Will you tell us?" the first girl asked, twining a piece of her hair around her delicate fingers.

"Ah, but do you want a true tale, or one made up?"

My question seemed to amuse them, for they had never thought to apply the rules of our little game to a story about Legolas, or any other elf of high standing. We would play this quite often, really, where I would tell them all about an elf they didn't know, or about the times when the elf was younger, and when I had run out of stories or tales, they would guess if there had been anything of truth in the telling. Other times I told them about the world they didn't know and the great and amazing things that had happened then, but I was in an epic mood tonight.

The eldest of the three ran a hand through her long hair, frowning slightly at a little piece of leaf that had gotten tangled there earlier in her play with her siblings out in the woods. She plucked it out and began searching for others, eventually letting the shimmering mass settled behind her in satisfaction.

The little boy's slight frown remained, so like his father's that it brought a smile to my lips. He looked up, his gaze surprisingly steady and piercing, a trait both his parent's now possessed, but his which his mother had perfected much earlier in her youth than their father, and than any of her children. But she was an interesting elf in her own right. "Let us guess," he decided, his sister chiming in enthusiastically with sparkling eyes while the eldest shrugged a shoulder with a disinterested air that didn't fool me for a moment.

"All right then. Let me think where I should start, and how I should start." Should I go from the point of view of a single elf, or shift around? And, should I tell them truly or not? So many choices, I mused to myself, it was almost unfair to be forced to make them so quickly with the dear children watching me so eagerly, even the eldest, though she was beginning to feel she should stop acting like a child as she neared her thousandth year. "All right, I think I have it figured out," I inform them, looking at the fire that bronzed their left sides and struck off copper lights in their hair. "In the days when elves still lived on Middle-Earth, there was a King, and his Queen. They loved each other very much and were soon blessed with many children, but this tale is an account of the eldest, and how he eventually found himself wanting to be married to the one elf he could ever truly love…" I trailed off, partially for dramatic effect, but mostly to make them squirm with impatience. I waited a tad too long though, something I always used to find a problem with Legolas when I told him stories.

"And her name is—"

"Shush!" the girl at the window cried quickly, silencing her brother who had started rocking slightly on his ankles as he tried, unsuccessfully, to wait. "Don't tell us her true name, nana, please? Let us guess without having that thrown in as well, since we well know who he did marry."

Everyone did, since we were in the havens. If we were still on Middle-Earth, it would have been different, in many ways.

I smiled at the dear children, and rearranged my skirt so I could clasp my hands in my lap, pretending sedateness though I was truly ready to lean forward or express a point with body movements, things they would forget having seen me do, for as far as storytellers go, I was one of the best, and they would soon see what I told them….

Clearing my throat I began again. "On the other shores…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the days when elves still lived on Middle-Earth there was a young elf girl named Salan. She had been born in the palace of Mirkwood, for her mother was the Queen's best friend, and they had moved into the palace together when the queen became the queen.

When Salan had reached an age where she was able to find her way home again without too much trouble, she and the only child of the King and Queen at the time were sent out to spend time together, exploring the forest, as is the way of all elf children when they are so young, but not quite mere children.

She knew it was the way of things, and since they were the only children in the palace, she knew there was no hope for a different playmate. She was resigned to her fate, hoping her mother or the Queen would be blessed with a pregnancy soon, for Legolas was not resigned in the least!

It irritated him to no end that a she-elf was following him around when he was finally able to explore on his own, without a royal guard or a nurse following him around. He would often simply not inform her he was leaving, but she was young, and did not understand why he disliked having her along.

Whenever he would return home after such trips, her face would be red along with her eyes, and one look at her mottled complexion was all he needed to see to know he was in trouble. He would purse his lips together and wait with resignation, knowing it was inevitable. Soon both of his parents would be berating him for leaving her behind. His pleas to be released from having her as a playmate fell on deaf ears, for they felt their only child should have some one to play with.

They were right, of course, and once in a while he enjoyed her company, but she was nearly two hundred years his junior, so most of the time he would simply leave her behind, sometimes being kind enough about it she wouldn't cry and inform their parents what he had done.

Salan merely hated being left behind because there was very little for her to do in the palace. The books in the library were all too stuffy to hold her attention for long, and she wanted to be outside, exploring, just as did he. Their nana would not tell them stories until bed time, because that was when tales were meant to be told, so children could think about them with a smile, either dreaming about how nice it was, or how much better it was in the real world that they knew.

Still, after a while her sense caught up with her, and she became a little bit devious herself, for she was a fast learner and Legolas was not a cautious teacher in such at the time. One day while Legolas was out riding, having ditched her once more, she snuck into his room and 'borrowed' a pair of leggings, a shirt and a tunic. These she took to her room, changing quickly before adding a cloak to her apparel.

Then, she went exploring! Oh, the things she saw and the fun she had! It was no wonder Legolas did not wish her to come along! She would be loath to share this beauty and glory with anyone herself.

But she would have shared, no matter what, because it was beautiful. Delight would have been hers for being able to show such a pleasure filled sight to anyone else. Such is the way of all good elves, and though she was a wood-elf, Salan had been brought up as a lady despite her wood-elf blood, and her parents were both unusually wise for wood-elves. Some say they no longer counted as such, but the love the family always felt for the forests negated any such arguments someone may have had.

So Salan sat upon the ground in her discovered place and contemplated what to do about the spoiled brat of a prince whom she had to have along when she went exploring to make her parents happy. Quite obviously she would eventually be caught wearing his leggings no matter ho hard she tried to avoid it, and wearing such was something all 'ladies' never did. Still, she was young, and she knew she would be allowed to continue to use them, or a similar form of clothing once she explained how much easier it was to ride. Of course, she would have to try that out before using that claim, but that little particular didn't slow her thoughts down, not one little bit!

She made up her mind that she would go with him, dressed as she was, whether he liked it or not! Her age of extreme youth was gone, and she was nearing her learning years, granting her strength and resolve to stand up for what she wanted. She had had none before, resorting to tears to get some satisfaction from seeing Legolas squirm. No longer. She would accompany him as she was supposed to, but that would take a while.

After all, he had been leaving her behind on a regular basis for nearly fifty years. Of course, she had not fought back. Her wood-elf blood brought her resolve, making her eyes flash brightly as she sat cross-legged at the edge of the forest. She would accompany him, one way or another!

Legolas never knew of her resolve, he just ran lightly down the steps the next morning, intending to go on a morning ride with Ailin, the white horse his father had given him on his eight hundredth birthday. Only when he got there, there Salan was, already astride her chestnut mare, wearing male clothing that looked suspiciously familiar. "Where do you think you are going?" he asked, scowling because he already was pretty sure of the answer.

"With you, of course," she retorted, patting her mare's neck.

"No, you aren't."

"Watch me, princy," she snapped right back at him, surprising him into shutting up for a while. After all, the Salan he was used to loosing before he left the palace had never spoken to him in such a way.

"My name is Prince Legolas."

"Only when you earn the title. You are nothing more than a selfish child," she murmured calmly, laughing delightedly when her mare bobbed her head in agreement.

Legolas was far from laughing. "I am older than you." In his opinion, he was too much older than was she to be saddled with the annoyance of her young company.

"But far less wise. The day is passing us. Shall we never leave the stables?"

"You may do as you wish, but you are not going with me."

"Must we have the same tired argument you have been hounding your poor father with for the last half century? You are not going to get rid of me so easily any longer. I wish to know Mirkwood from beyond the palace walls. Our parents have decreed we must only do such explorations with each other or a guard. It is hard to enjoy anything with a guard watching your every move, as you well know, besides which they have more important things to do. At least if we ignore each other but stay in visual and auditory range we shall satisfy their desires and our own."

Without waiting for a response, she spoke softly to Tinyal, and the mare quickly trotted into the bright spring morning. Legolas looked after her with a stunned blink, not knowing quite what to think about this unfamiliarly strong willed she-elf. Still, he was determined not to let her ruin the day, so he quickly mounted Ailin and rode out, sure he could lose her somewhere in such a way she could still find her way back to the palace without becoming lost. While he may not want her along, he wished her no harm, even if she seemed not only to have found her tongue but had it sharpened as well.

For the next several years, a few decades in fact, Legolas tried everything he could think of to get her to stay away from him so he could enjoy the forest on his own. He even resorted to locking her in a closet on one occasion, so angered and annoyed was he by being forced to endure her company that the slight good manners his father had managed to instill in him were entirely lost.

When he returned as the sun began to fall over the trees, he cleaned quickly for supper, frowning when he took his place and found the cause of his annoyance and the lack of enjoyment in his day was not sitting across from him as usual. In fact, he didn't see her anywhere.

He was not about to ask, though, so he let the music and conversation lift the wonder from his mind. Soon, as the meal was finished, he heard his father speaking to her father. His name was being mentioned, which was why he had started listening.

"Legolas?"

"Yes Father?" he asked at once.

"Did Salan accompany you?"

"No, Father. She wished to do something else," he lied without a qualm, for he knew when lies were acceptable. Saving his own skin seemed acceptable. "Why, Father?"

"She has not been seen since the morning meal," his father murmured, a frown drawing his brows together in a stern look which Legolas had seen too often directed at him though it was thankfully not aimed at him this time. The king then looked up, and told a passing elf a search was to be made.

The four adult elves, her parents and his, remained at the table, worry and concern for the missing elf written plainly in their eyes, though they had had too much experience with molding their faces into a calm expression to show their emotions clearly on their faces.

Legolas looked at them, swallowing after a long silence. Surely she had been let out of the closet before now. So she must be hiding somewhere to get him in trouble. His eyes narrowed at the thought and he suddenly found himself volunteering to help find her. He was waved away, and started in the places he would guess she had gone, little places they had found when they were very young and still forced to play in the palace. She hadn't spoken much, so he hadn't minded her so much then. But when the chance came for him to explore Mirkwood, there was no way he was going to take a baby she-elf with him!

Firming his resolve he could outlast her desire to explore, he checked the library, then the gardens that were built into the mountain, carefully searching each and every tree top for a sign of her. She had quickly become a better climber than he was, probably because that was the only way she had to escape him when he began pulling her braids to get her to leave him alone.

Despite his previous recollection of being nice to her when they were both stuck inside, since he thought he would have nearly two hundred years to explore outside before she was allowed to join him, he never really had been that nice to her. Being the only child of the only ruler he had been spoiled terribly, and he had never learned to share.

Alas, she simply was not in the gardens, so he started to go to his nana's room, but thought better of it, turning away before he got close enough for her to hear him coming. That old she-elf had an uncanny ability for picking up on things. Instead he went down to the closet he had locked Salan in and quickly picked up the key which hung about a ribbon on the door, turning it in the lock.

He was startled to see Salan lying in there, her hair intricately bound back, small braids combining and twisting together to form a sort of headdress before they fell over the rest of her hair. Since she was obviously alone in the room, the work was the result of hours. She had been in there the whole time?

A pang of guilt smote him, and he hesitated in the doorway. She was asleep, stretched out on two crates she had pulled together, her knees drawn up and her body bent so she could fit on the small, rough-hewn wooden things that had been sent to the palace from the men down the river. One arm was crooked under her head, the other had dropped off the edge some time during her slumber.

He had assumed she would be found within an hour. Less, probably. He had ridden as quickly out of the view of the palace as he could for that very thought. Yet she had remained in here all day, and a good part of the night as well. "Salan?"

She blinked, her eyes eventually focusing on him. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing slightly as she did so. She looked at him for an instant before moving to tend to her palm, which had several obvious and rough splinters in it. More slivers littered her clothing where she had been against the crates, and he felt another pang.

"Many have been searching the palace for you, myself included."

"That confirms you have not the brains you were given," she spoke softly, without heat as she concentrated on plucking the slivers of wood from her arms once she had finished with her palms. "You should have looked where you put me."

"I expected you would be let out at once."

"I may have been, if ever an elf had walked by." She looked up at him, blinked. "How far is the day along?"

"It is finished, long since. It is time for nana to be wrapping up her story for the night."

She sighed softly and rested her hand against her stomach. He could hear it growl as she did so, and felt guilty once more. "I shall be off to the kitchens, then."

"First you must see our parents so they know you are safe."

She looked up at him, her eyes fathomless. Finally she nodded and sighed again, before slowly getting up, pushing her slightly more feminine tunic down to her knees, wincing slightly before returning to pick at her palm. Without a word she followed slowly behind him as he returned to the dining hall.

That walk was torture for Legolas. He wanted to know what she was going to say, but he knew what to expect, both from her and then from his father when he found out what happened. He said nothing, though, knowing he deserved punishment though he had truly believed she would be released quickly.

They were being impatiently awaited before they arrived, for several of the other searchers had seen her and reported that the prince had found her. He swallowed and moved aside, remaining near the door as if the escape would be allowed him.

"My daughter!" her mother cried, getting up to enfold her in a tight embrace before her father did the same. "Where were you hiding?" she scolded sternly, despite the relief that shown in her eyes.

"I was not hiding, Mother," she replied. "I was stuck in a closet."

"Stuck in a closet?" Thranduil asked, dumbfounded. "How did that happen?"

Legolas cringed, waiting for her to proclaim his death sentence. She smiled a little self-depreciatingly and lowered her eyes from the king's, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "I was looking for a snack to take with me to the library, and someone closed the door, locking it and moving away before I gathered my wits enough to call out that I was in there. No one walked by after that, until Legolas found me."

Four pairs of eyes looked at him, those of their mothers almost immediately returning to her hair, which they touched with soft murmurs of approval and wonder. Most elves simply could not have created such a design on their own heads, no matter how many hours they had to do so. Their fathers, though, kept looking at him.

He was surprised into utter silence at her words, for there was no way she didn't know he was the one who locked the door on her. After all, he had grabbed her by the arm and shoved her inside, slamming the door on her before locking it, leaving her be despite the calls he heard through the heavy wooden door.

"Thank you for finding my daughter, Legolas," her father spoke after a moment, a small smile coming over his face.

"No thanks necessary," he managed stiffly, bowing his head slightly before walking quickly off to his room, at every moment expecting Thranduil to call him back and punish him.

That night he replayed everything from when he found her to when he left the dining hall over and over in his head. He kept seeing the calm, sincere way she had lied to their parents, the lie allowing him to remain safe, though he didn't deserve to be.

The next morning, he took her with him into the forest, missing the small smile Salan let play on her lips. She was beginning to break his spoiled shell, get to the elf that was meant to be that was trapped beneath it.

Without being aware of it, she had done exactly what their parents had hoped she would. Legolas, being the only prince of the only ruler, had been spoiled awfully, as I mentioned before. Salan, on the other hand, had sat with her mother and the queen on numerous occasions, and knew what it meant to be not only a lady but a good one, and had learned early small sparks of wisdom others her age would not even have recognized as such.

She was influencing him, merely by being herself, with a bit of wood-elf spirit thrown in, along with the innocence of youth she still retained, leaving her not in the least awed of his title.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Legolas was never a spoiled brat!" the boy declared as I trailed off slightly. "I can tell right now this is all a bunch of fake stories." His face was comically poised between a frown and a pout.

"How would you know what Legolas was like when he was so young he didn't even have any siblings? None of us were even thought of then." The eldest stated, her tone irritated. She liked the character Salan, and had smiled faintly when I first gave her the name, undoubtedly guessing the source. Still, she found the subject of the stories one she was willing to hear about, so she defended the tale quickly and with fervor. "You cannot claim to know anything until you have all the information you can possibly possess."

I smiled slightly. Just like her mother… well, to a degree. Her mother was never quite as… carefully elegant. "I think that is enough for tonight."

The middle child looked up, pleading in her eyes as she frowned. "But, nana, surely there is so much more you could tell us tonight…"

"I plan to tell you all there is to know, my darling little one, but little elves need their sleep. Just as old ones do," I added, feeling some need for rest myself. "I shall continue the story tomorrow, do not fret, my dears."

She sighed heavily, making her older sister smile. Their brother scowled at me, still determined that he knew the eventual outcome, and so not very interested in filling his head with stories about Legolas of Mirkwood that simply were not true.

"Good night, nana," the eldest murmured, stooping to kiss my cheek before she waited at the door for her siblings to do the same. Then they went together down the hall, the eldest pulling my door shut behind them. I could hear her telling her brother to be quiet for a while, but then the soft closing of the doors to their separate rooms cut off their conversation and my ability to hear them.

With a soft smile I prepared for bed, trying to decide where to go next in my tale.