Disclaimer: All of the characters are J.R. Tolkien's, not mine. I do not make any money with this story.

Rating: PG-13 – to be on the safe side, for fluffy, non-explicit m/m.

Summary: A very young Estel makes his first trip to Mirkwood and meets Prince Legolas Thranduilion. Although their families disapprove, they become friends, and later lovers. Prequel to To Make A Choice, Days in Lothlorien and Inauspicious Beginnings. Eventually very fluffy L/A. Should probably be considered AU.

Author's note: If you do not like or cannot cope with m/m, please do not continue. You will not find any explicit or graphic scenes, it is all very fluffy. But you have been warned!

All errors are mine. Please read and review, flames are not accepted.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed my previous stories. I hope you enjoy this one, too!

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Chapter 1

Elrond, Lord of Imladris, stood on the balcony of his study and stared at the letter in his hands. It was a missive from King Thranduil of the Great Woodland Realm, also often referred to as Mirkwood. Once, a long time ago, Elrond and Thranduil had been friends, but things had happened that had destroyed their friendship until only a very uneasy relationship remained.

Elrond had not seen Thranduil in a long time; in fact, it had been centuries since the two elven lords had met. But this was a request for help that Elrond could not deny with a clear conscience. The elves of Eryn Lasgalen had to fight the encroaching darkness of Dol Guldur, but recently a new breed of spider with a particularly nasty poison had appeared, which caused any unfortunate victim to die a horrible, painful death. Thranduil had lost several of his warriors to these spiders, and his healers had not succeeded in developing an effective antidote. The mere fact that Thranduil had swallowed his pride and asked Elrond for assistance indicated a serious situation – otherwise Thranduil would have never agreed to the request by his healers to ask for Elrond.

Elrond decided that he would comply with the request for help, but he also decided something else.

He quickly made his way to the training ground where he knew he was likely to find his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and his adopted human son, Estel. Estel's birth name was Aragorn, but the boy had grown up being called Estel – 'Hope' in Sindarin, and did not yet know his birth name.

Once he arrived at the training ground, he saw Elrohir and Estel practising with the sword. For a moment, the elf-lord stood and watched his sons. Elrohir, tall and slim, with dark hair and grey eyes like all Noldor elves, used his natural speed and grace to avoid the strokes of his foster brother. His brother Elladan, his identical twin, sat on the ground watching the two combatants.

Elrond watched Estel trying to touch Elrohir with his sword. 'Considering that he has only seen fifteen summers', thought Elrond, 'this boy is doing very well indeed. He will be an outstanding warrior one day.' Pride and sadness warred inside the elf-lord. Mortals grew up so quickly, time affected them so much.

Only eighteen short months ago, Estel had reached that awkward age most young humans seem to go through. The graceful, friendly child disappeared, and changed into an often sullen, awkward young person who seemed to consist mostly of uncoordinated arms and legs, painfully thin, with ever-greasy hair and a crop of unpleasant skin eruptions Elrond had to treat with healing herbs. Fortunately, Elrond thought, Estel did not remain in this phase for long, he was difficult to live with and unhappy during this time.

Now, at fifteen, Estel was tall, but had gained a weight appropriate to his height. His movements had returned to their previous grace, as if his body remembered how the various parts fitted together. The greasy hair and skin eruptions had gone as if they had never existed. 'In fact', Elrond reflected, 'he has grown into an attractive youngster. I just wish he was a bit less serious, would smile a little bit more often ... He has not been around other young people enough.'

It was summer, and both Estel and Elrohir had stripped to their leggings. Elrond watched Estel making another lunge at Elrohir, coming close to breaching his brother's defences.

'Well done, Estel!' the elf-lord mentally applauded. Estel had tied his long dark hair together in a single braid that swung behind him as he moved. His grey eyes sparkled, and the muscles in his lean body moved as he sparred with his brother. Yes, he would be an excellent swordsman one day.

Elrond waited until the two combatants had reached a natural pause before interrupting.

"Elrohir? Estel? Sorry for interrupting your practice. But I have news that concern both of you, and Elladan as well. King Thranduil has asked me to assist his healers to find an antidote against a new breed of spiders. This means I will have to go to Lasgalen. I have decided that it is time that Estel sees more than just Rivendell and the surrounding area. I would like to take all three of you with me."

All three young people looked startled. "But, ada, I thought Thranduil does not like humans, why would you want to take me with you?" Estel said, surprise evident in his voice.

"He does not, but this is a good opportunity to see more of other lands. You have not yet been to either Lasgalen or Lothlorien, it is time that you find out how other elves live."

He did not add that it was important that Thranduil met the boy, the elven king knew of Estel's heritage even though the boy had not yet been told that he was Aragorn, Arathorn's son and Isildur's heir. One day he might play an important role for the future of these lands.

Elladan looked dubious. "Do you really think this is a good idea? This could turn into a disaster!"

Elrond nodded. "We just have to make sure it does not."

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Legolas, son of King Thranduil and heir to the throne of Eryn Lasgalen, moved to the side to allow the next archer to aim at the target. The prince's arrow had struck the furthest target dead centre.

"He should not be competing here. He is not training with us, he has no right to win this competition" Legolas heard the whispered comment behind him. He turned to the speaker, a young wood elf only a few decades older than himself.

"Why do you begrudge me the opportunity to show my skill, Rainan?"

Rainan looked straight at the young prince. "You do not belong here. You should be at your father's court, not on the training ground."

Several others of the young archers in the competition had become aware of the conversation and had formed a circle around the two speakers.

"Do you all feel like this? That I should not be here?"

There was no response from the ring of onlookers, and in none of the faces Legolas could detect any sympathy.

"I better go than. I will not stay where I am not welcome."

The blonde prince stifffened his shoulders, grabbed his bow and left the training ground. Behind him, the young archers continued their competition. Later he found his arrow removed from the target and discarded on the ground.

Legolas did not go far. Once he reached the trees, his shoulders slumped. It was not the first time, and he knew it would not be the last time, that he had encountered rejection by the other young elves. His father insisted on special training for him, and much of his time was spent learning the intricacies of running a country and a court, rather then preparing for warrior's duty. Nevertheless, Legolas had always been an outstanding archer, and even though he was younger than almost all the other elves in training, he could outshoot all of them. They resented that, as well as him being a prince, and let him feel their dislike. Sometimes he wondered why he even tried to gain their approval, he knew he would not gain it whatever he did.

Legolas climbed his favourite tree and leaned against the trunk, securely seated on a wide branch. Absentmindedly he played with one of the thin braids that held his hair away from his face. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. Over time he had tried to accept that he had very few friends, and none amongst the younger elves. But he still found it upsetting to be rejected so openly. He had learned early to hide his feelings, and the young prince knew that he had a reputation as cold and unapproachable.

Legolas remained on his favourite perch for a long while. After the sun had set and darkness had fallen, the young elf silently slid down from the tree and made his way home. As he neared the palace, he could hear voices and laughing. The group of young elves who had competed earlier had lit a small fire in space between some trees. They had food and drink, and some were singing. There were also several elf maidens, and a few couples were dancing near the fire. Everyone was enjoying themselves, and some couples had withdrawn to the shadows between the trees for more private entertainment.

Legolas fervently hoped that he had been silent enough to slip past the group without being noticed. But it was not to be. Legolas had focused on the merry makers in front of him, and had not noticed two male elves, who had found themselves a relatively hidden spot, before he almost stepped on them.

"Whom have we got here ..." To his horror, Legolas recognised the voice of Rainan, who had taunted him earlier.

"Perhaps our young prince wants to join us ..." Rainan's voice was silky and smooth, with a tone and expression that Legolas did not like.

Legolas only noticed now that the two elves in front of him were naked and that he had clearly interrupted an intimate moment. He blushed deeply and mumbled: "I am sorry, I did not mean to intrude ..."

"That might not be such a bad thing ... you are attractive enough, you could join in ..." Again there was this silky smooth voice that made Legolas shudder.

"I daresay that no one has bedded you before, young prince, perhaps it is time that someone did." Rainan stretched out his hand and caressed the smooth skin of Legolas' cheek.

At this point, Legolas recovered from his embarrassment. He pushed Rainan's hand away from his face, and said coldy:

"How dare you to speak to me like this, and to touch me." He turned around sharply and walked away from the other elves, his back stiff with suppressed anger.

Legolas returned to his own room without taking an evening meal that night. He undressed quickly, and lay on his bed. But sleep would not come. The events of the day churned around in his head. The young prince rarely indulged in self-pity, but today was a day when he could not help feeling a certain bitterness. Not only did he not have any friends amongst the other young elves, he also had never had a lover.

Legolas had passed his majority about fifteen years ago, and was not yet considered to be of marriageable age. But most elves his age would at least have had some passing alliances to find pleasure. Legolas had never met anyone he was remotely interested in sharing his bed with, he had never felt that whatever offers had been made were genuine. He was a prize, to be claimed and boasted about. It was better not to be interested at all.

After a long time, Legolas finally managed to sleep.

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TBC. Please review!