"And this is the Hall of Fire," Aragorn said. He opened one of a set of large double doors, and Legolas looked into a large hall of dark wood. Carved pillars supported the ceiling, and a single long hearth occupied one wall. A fire burned in the hearth, just enough to illuminate the nearest carvings and send shadows flickering through the corners.

"It is normally quiet and empty," Aragorn went on, "but after the feast tonight, Lord Elrond will likely open it for singing and telling of tales."

"I think I will like that," Legolas said. "I have always been fond of stories." That thought reminded him of a question he had meant to ask. "Are there books here that anyone might read? I do not mean to invade Lord Elrond's private library, but there are so many rooms full of books here. Do you think anyone would mind if I wished to look at them?"

"Not at all," Aragorn said with a smile. "The books in the rooms without doors are free for anyone to read. I think that you will be most interested in the second library in the east wing, for those books are written in Sindarin. The ones in the third library are written in the Common Tongue."

"Good. I can read both of those languages, although I find reading in the Common Tongue to be more difficult."

"Do not fear. There is no shortage of stories in Sindarin."

Legolas laughed. "There is no shortage of anything here. You told me as much when last we met, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined."

"And you have not seen the half of it yet. Have you met any of the inhabitants?"

"I have met one called Erestor," Legolas said. "He showed me to a bedchamber and gave me food."

"Good," Aragorn said. "You need it. The journey from Mirkwood cannot have been easy."

"It was not. But we began to ration our food long before I set out. The trading has grown poor." Legolas shook his head. "I do not wish to think about that right now, not in such a lovely place as this. I will think about it later, perhaps. What else is there to see?"

Aragorn smiled. "There are Hobbits here who would be pleased to meet you. Shall we satisfy their curiosity about Wood-elves?"

"You may do that," Legolas said. "Meanwhile, I will satisfy my curiosity about Hobbits."

"Excellent. Our roads lie together, then."

Legolas followed Aragorn to one of the many small terraces that extended from the House. It was occupied by four Hobbits. Legolas recognized Bilbo Baggins, though he had aged much since he had been in Mirkwood. Bilbo and a younger companion sat on a bench leafing through a large red book, while two more Hobbits lounged at their feet with mugs in their hands. All four looked up, and Bilbo's face split into a wide grin.

"Dúnadan," he said to Aragorn. "I had wondered when you might find time to pop by and greet an old friend." He turned to Legolas and bowed low. "Good afternoon, Master Wood-elf! You must forgive me; your face looks familiar, but I am growing old, and I find that my memory for names is not what it once was."

Legolas smiled. "I do not think that you ever knew my name. I am Legolas."

"He is King Thranduil's son," Aragorn added. Bilbo laughed and clapped his hands together.

"I knew it! I knew you looked familiar. There's Elves and there's Elves, you see. I met quite a few on my travels, and I'm sure I don't remember each one, as I was not at my best at that time. But I remember the Elvenking, that I do, and bless me if you don't have his nose. How is he these days? Still as noble as ever?"

"He fares as well as can be expected," Legolas said. "He remembers you fondly, and when I return home, I will tell him that I have seen you."

"And send my best greetings to him when you do," Bilbo said. "But where have my manners gone? Here I am, prattling away, and I haven't even introduced you to my friends yet! Forget my own head one day, I will." He indicated one of the two Hobbits lounging at his feet. "This is Merry Brandybuck, a cousin of mine from Bucklebury. This is Pippin Took, another cousin from Whitwell. And this is Sam Gamgee."

"Is he also a cousin?" Legolas asked.

"Sam is a good and faithful friend," Bilbo said. "He has been fascinated by Elves since he was a lad. Sam, this is Legolas of Mirkwood. I told you all about my travels in Mirkwood."

"That you did, Mr. Bilbo," Sam said. He set down the book, hopped to his feet, then nearly tripped over them bowing to Legolas. "'Tis an honor to meet you, Mr. Legolas, sir." He flushed bright red but could not take his eyes away from Legolas. Legolas gave a shy smile, unaccustomed to being the object of such scrutiny.

"I will leave you to become acquainted," Aragorn said. "There is someone here I must find."

"She was going to gather herbs today," Bilbo told him. "Though I don't know if she meant in the gardens or in the woods. I didn't think to ask, you see."

"Then I shall have to go and seek her," Aragorn said. He gave a small bow and left. The four Hobbits turned to Legolas with looks of frank curiosity on their faces. Equally fascinated, Legolas knelt down and sat back on his heels in front of the Hobbits.

"Are you really an Elf prince?" Pippin asked.

Legolas nodded. "My father is the King."

"Fancy that," Pippin said. "We've met plenty of noble Elves so far on this trip, but I don't believe we've come across a proper prince yet."

"There was Glorfindel," Merry reminded him. "Didn't Gandalf explain to us about how he was a prince of the Elder Days?"

"Well, yes," Pippin conceded. "But he didn't say exactly how Glorfindel was a prince. Maybe it means something different to be a prince of the Elder Days. But Legolas here is the son of a king and that's surely as proper a prince as you can get."

"Beg pardon, Mr. Pippin," Sam put in. "But if Mr. Legolas is a royal prince and all that, then we ought to show him a little more respect." He bowed to Legolas again, and Legolas suddenly wondered if his manners since arriving had been proper for Imladris.

"I do not know what the custom is here," he admitted. "Were we in my home in Mirkwood, you would bow to me only at the most formal of occasions, or if I were representing my father at the time."

"That doesn't seem fitting," Merry said. "If you're a prince, you ought to be treated like one. I always thought kings and princes liked to go around with a bit of pomp and style."

Legolas shrugged. "Perhaps that is the way of the Noldor," he said, "but we of the Silvan folk have never stood on such ceremony. Much of my time is spent as a member of my father's council."

"Well, that's hardly fair, now, is it?" Pippin said, with a little snort of indignation.

"I do not know," Legolas admitted. "But it is safer. Mirkwood is a perilous place, for Elves are not the only creatures who dwell there, and not all of the other inhabitants are friendly. If I am known as the son of the king, then my life is in greater danger than if I am known only as a Wood-elf who advises him."

Bilbo nodded. "That would explain much," he said. "All that time that I spent trapped in that cave of yours, and I never could discover if the Elvenking had any family. And there you must have been hiding in plain sight all along."

Legolas nodded and ducked his head as warmth prickled his nose. Bilbo turned to Sam.

"You see, Sam," he said, "It's just as I've told you. There's Elves and there's Elves. There's no call for you to be nervous. I guess Legolas here is just as shy of you as you are of him."

Sam blinked and stared at Legolas, as if Bilbo's remark had revealed to him a dimension he had never imagined before. Then he laughed. "Well," he said, "you ninnyhammer, Sam Gamgee! I don't suppose there's call for neither of us to be shy in this place. You're as far from your home as I am from mine, I guess, and this Rivendell is as strange to you as it is to me."

"Likely stranger," Legolas said. "I arrived only this morning, and I am told that you have been here several days already."

"I don't know as I've ever seen a place quite like it," Sam said. "It's big and it's cozy all at once, see? And everywhere you look, all the Elves you could ever hope to see. Begging your pardon, of course, Mr. Legolas, sir," he added, flushing red in the face.

Legolas sighed. "It is full of strangers."

"Well," Pippin broke in, "it's lucky for you, then, that you've met us. We're not strangers."

"Pippin!" Merry hissed. "That's silly."

"Perhaps," Bilbo chuckled. "But I think it is a lovely thought anyway. What do you think, Master Legolas? Are we strangers?"

Legolas considered the question for a moment, then relaxed and straightened on his heels. "No," he said, smiling more openly than he had before. "You are not strangers any more."

"In fact," Bilbo said, with a wink at Sam, "we might even go so far as to become friends."

Sam turned scarlet and hid his face in his hands. Legolas looked at the Hobbits and made the effort to release his reserve. "I think I would like that. I have never had Hobbits as friends before."

"Good," Merry said. "As my Da would say, you can never start younger."

Legolas spent the rest of the afternoon in the company of his new friends. As the shadows of evening lengthened, one of the Elves of Imladris appeared with news that the last Hobbit, Frodo, had risen, and that the feast in his honor would begin in an hour's time. The young Hobbits hurried off to greet their friends, and Bilbo excused himself to resume work on a song he had been composing. Legolas managed to find his way back to his chamber to prepare himself.

He discovered that the clothes he had brought with him had been cleaned and folded neatly on the large bed. He washed his face and hands, then stripped off the clothes he had borrowed from the clothes-press and pulled on his own trousers and the embroidered linen shirt which Thranduil had urged him to bring. Hastily, he ran a comb through his hair and decided that he was as presentable as he could be. With one last glance to ensure that he had left the room tidy, Legolas set out to find the feasting hall.

On his way, he passed a small contingent of Dwarves whose accents were of Erebor. Somehow cheered to discover even so tenuous a reminder of home in Imladris, Legolas bowed to them politely and allowed himself to be secretly amused by the stunned expressions on their coarse faces. He hurried away from them just as they regained their voices. "The stringiest looking Elf I've ever seen," one of them muttered. Legolas wondered if he should be insulted, but did not have time to dwell on the problem, as Erestor waved to him from the crowd milling about the entrance to the feasting hall.

"Legolas!" he called. "Come, you will sit by me tonight." Grateful, Legolas hurried to Erestor's side. "I understand that you have spent part of the day in Aragorn's company," Erestor went on, "but he will not be able to attend the feast tonight. The sons of Elrond have returned suddenly, and he has gone to take conference with them. I thought that you would appreciate seeing a familiar face anyway, so I hope that I will suffice."

"Thank you, Erestor. That is kind of you. It does ease my heart."

Erestor located their seats near the head of one of the side tables. The table was covered with a thick, dark red cloth and decorated with complex arrangements of flowers, mirrors, and candles. The trappings were finer than those of the Wood-elves' feasts, but they seemed to fit with the wealth and comfort of Imladris. Legolas very much wanted to pick up and examine the metal cutlery to see how it felt compared to the horn utensils he used at home, but he remembered his station as his father's representative and kept his hands in his lap. Erestor leaned over to murmur low in his ear.

"I have seen the style in which your people serve feasts," he said, "so I will warn you that we do things differently here. The food will not be brought to the table all at once; it will come in courses. Do not be alarmed if the first course seems meager. It is there mainly to heighten the appetite, and more substantial food will arrive in its own time."

Legolas nodded, but did not have time to say more, for Elrond rang a small bell, and the feast began.

After Elrond made a short speech of welcome to the guests and thanks to the Valar for their providence, serving Elves set trays full of miniature tarts on the table. The filling appeared to be a savory mixture of meat and sauce, spiced to give it an appetizing aroma. Legolas was familiar with such tarts, as Galion occasionally made them for informal meals. He nibbled experimentally at the crust and was surprised at the smooth flavor of the pastry. "What is in this?" he asked.

"I do not know," Erestor said. "I do not spend much time in the kitchens. It is pastry. Presumably it contains flour, water and butter, but that is all that I know."

Just as the guests finished their tarts, the waitstaff removed the empty trays, leaving those that still held extra tarts, and set tureens of fragrant onion soup on the tables. The soup was rich with butter, with a subtle tang of a spice that Legolas could not identify, and he ate it without spilling a single drop. The tarts and the soup seemed to be an excellent meal. Legolas considered taking another tart, since there did not seem to be any lack, but he noticed that Elrond had not. Not wishing to be rude, Legolas finished his soup and contented himself with making polite conversation with Erestor and Lindir, the Elf seated at his other side. Every now and then, he stole an admiring glance at the Lady Arwen, who seemed to glow in her silvery gray gown and jeweled cap.

The waitstaff appeared again, this time bearing dishes full of spiced nuts and trays of chopped and sliced fruit. Legolas appreciated the effort that had gone into the spiced nuts, but was overjoyed to see apple slices along with plums and pears on the fruit trays. He had loved apples ever since he could remember. Thranduil had occasionally teased him gently for his taste for such imported treats, but always managed to have at least a few apples in the delvings. Legolas helped himself to as many pieces as seemed proper and ate them with such delight that Erestor laughed and put more in front of him. "I see what it is that you like," he said. "You were very clever to arrive here just in time for the apple harvest. I will be sure to tell Lord Elrond to make sure that there is a basket of apples in your chamber at all times."

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, but fell silent with astonishment. The serving Elves had returned yet again. They brought platters of roast chickens, small game birds, fish, venison, beef, and mutton, all surrounded with crisply roasted potatoes. There were gravies and sauces, wobbly jellies, baskets full of light bread, and bowls of fresh garden vegetables dressed temptingly with herbs and oil. Legolas had thought that the feast was over; instead, it seemed that it had barely begun. He could do little more than stare dumbfounded at the sight of more food than he had ever before seen at one meal, even at the most lavish Yule feast in Mirkwood.

Erestor noticed his paralysis and quietly filled his plate with small portions of each dish on the table. "Do not worry," he said. "Eat as much as you wish."

"I cannot possibly eat all of this," Legolas objected. "I do not wish to waste food."

Erestor chuckled. "Eat your fill, and do not worry about that," he said. "There are five Hobbits in Imladris at the moment, after all. No food will be wasted, you may be sure of that."

Indeed, the Hobbits were eating and drinking merrily. One of them looked over, nodded at Legolas, and raised a cup in his general direction. Encouraged, Legolas returned the salute and turned his attention to the morsels on his plate. The food was delicious, but very rich, and Legolas ate slowly, listening as Erestor pointed out some of the more notable guests at the feast. Mithrandir sat near Lord Elrond, as did a strikingly handsome Elf who turned out to be none other than Glorfindel, of whom songs were sung even in Mirkwood. There were a few of Círdan's folk from the western shore, and one or two Men, though Aragorn was not among them. And, of course, seated at the other side table, there were the Dwarves, who seemed to be quite friendly with the Hobbits. Legolas feared that he was staring, but the event was dazzling in its richness and variety, and he wanted to remember every detail to recount to his father and Luindil when he returned home.

He was sure that the feast had reached its peak, when the waitstaff appeared for the fifth time. This course consisted of slices of light, dry cake topped with dollops of thick, almond-scented cream, decorated with candied rose petals. Legolas took a small bite and was startled at the sweetness. It was too much. The feast had become too overwhelming for him to comprehend. Legolas bowed his head and covered his eyes, as much to shut out the sight of the food as to keep from embarrassing himself by weeping.

Lindir made a small, concerned noise, and Erestor gently laid a hand on Legolas's arm. "Is the cake not to your taste?" he asked in a low voice.

"I do not know," Legolas said. "It is so sweet . . . I can barely taste it. It is too much. I cannot eat it."

"Then you do not have to eat it," Erestor said. "I think that you have been too long deprived of adequate nourishment, and it will take some time to accustom yourself to the abundance of this valley. Do not worry, Lord Elrond will not be insulted. He is a healer and is quite familiar with the effects of both injury and deprivation. I believe that there are more apples on the tray to your left, if you do not want cake; you seemed to enjoy them earlier."

Lindir placed a few slices on a saucer and passed it to Legolas. Gratefully, Legolas pushed the cake away. "You seem happier," Lindir said. "Now, Erestor and I have told you all the news from this side of the mountains. It is high time for you to return the favor. Tell us something of life in Mirkwood."

Elrond and Arwen signaled the end of the feast by rising and leading the company to the Hall of Fire, where there was to be singing and storytelling late into the night. Aragorn and Bilbo were there, and Bilbo chanted a song of his own invention about Eärendil and Elwing. Lindir called for a repetition when it was finished, but Bilbo declined politely, and the Elves moved on to other subjects.

"Sing us something from Mirkwood, Legolas," Elrond suggested. "Surely you know a song that we do not sing here."

Legolas thought for a moment, then stood and sang an old hymn to Elbereth that Thranduil had taught him when he was very small and that was sung at every festival of the Wood-elves.

"That is lovely," Arwen said when Legolas had finished. "I am familiar with the hymn, but I do not believe I have ever heard that melody before."

Legolas bowed. "It is a Silvan melody, Lady, so I am not surprised that you do not know it."

Arwen laughed. "Surprising or not, it is a state of affairs which must be remedied. Will you teach it to us?"

"Gladly."

The Elves of Imladris were quick to learn both the melody and a simple descant. After they had sung it through several times, Elrond declared it a worthy addition to his store of music. Then Lindir rose and began to chant a section of the Noldolantë. Legolas listened happily, and found that his shyness had vanished. He sang and made conversation with the residents of Imladris far into the night. At last, cheerful and at peace for the first time in many days, he excused himself and made his way back to his sleeping chamber. There, the large, soft bed waited to welcome him into deep, soothing dreams.