Chapter 3

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"One important aspect of archery is patience. You cannot rush it, not when you are a beginner at least. You also need to listen. The wind will tell you everything you need to know." Tudor explained, lining both Legolas and Mistril in front. "Prince Legolas already has his own bow and quiver so I'll let you use my spares."

Mistril nodded in gratitude and took the equipment from her teacher. Tudor was a warm and gentle elf, not exactly one she would imagine fighting in battles. But then again, most elves are like him.

"Now, take an arrow and place it on the bow. Look at the target in front of you and try to keep your hands steady. If you twitch, the arrow will not hit the target." Tudor explained, watching Mistril carefully. Legolas was already used to the lessons and was growing comfortable with the bow in hand. "Shoot!" He said suddenly.

Legolas hit forward and so did Mistril but hers missed the target altogether. Her deep green eyes narrowed at the feeling of dissatisfaction. The dummy was right there and she missed by quite a bit. In a real battle, that would cost her, her life.

"You'll get better if you try. We can practice together." The prince said boldly noticing her disappointment.

They fired all the arrows in the quiver and then exchanged so they could fire again. Legolas was getting better with every shot while Mistril's hands started to tremble and at some point, she lost the strength to shoot. Seeing how they spent half a day like that, Tudor chose to stop.

"Great work, prince Legolas. Lady Mistril, you did well for your first time." Tudor said, taking the quivers from his students. "And I mean it. Not many beginners get to hit the target from the first shoot. If you practice more you won't get tired as fast."

"Thank you but if I continue practicing I'm afraid that King Thranduil will start suspecting my motives." She explained genuinely worried she'll get shunned.

"Not if I ask him for you to be my practice partner. Then he will have no choice but to call you my royal practice dummy." Legolas said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Mistril and Tudor glanced at each other bemused by the slyness of the young prince.

"That could happen. It's not out of his power," Tudor commented as he took the lead back to the Halls.

"Then, what else is it that you practice except archery? Swordsmanship? War logistics? Maps?" she asked Legolas feeling excited for some reason.

The prince chuckled but he enjoyed this nonchalant side of his friend.

"Not quite. More like dancing and royal behavior and courtship," He replied with a roll of his eyes. "You can never be prepared, is what I've been told,"

"So early on?" Mistsril asked, finding the prince too innocent for such matters. "I guess your father worries a lot about the kingdom's sake,"

"He does. Sometimes I get this feeling that he loves Greenwood more than he loves me," Legolas muttered hoping that Mistril will not ask him for details.

"Love...what is love anyway? You shouldn't worry about it just yet, prince," She replied with a grin.

"You don't have to call me prince. You are not a wooden elf so it feels odd." Legolas started, feeling flushed by her words. It wasn't exactly a piece of advice nor an encouragement, just a comment, but it was enough for him.

"Won't your father overreact at my impoliteness?" She asked, being polite when talking about the king.

"You don't need to worry. He isn't your king."

"But he can throw me out and I do not wish to find myself on the brink of death once more," She explained, glancing at the elfling.

Legolas was not a small and fragile elf he was actually tall and could definitely handle himself even in front of the king. But he was Thranduil's son.

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