A/N:  This tale is in a lighter vein, but I hope you still enjoy it.  It’s also got to be AU because the time frame does not fit with Legolas’ real age; but since nobody really knows how old/young he actually is, I thought this might be an amusing “young” Legolas tale.

          Aragorn drew the sodden hood of his cloak over his equally drenched head in an attempt to keep the heavy downpour from off his face but the gesture did little to thwart the rain.  His dark hair was soaked and plastered to his face and rivulets of water trekked down his nose and dripped off his bearded chin.  His clothes were saturated and the cold, wet rain seeped into his skin and down to his bones.  He drew his cloak more tightly about his shoulders and wobbled precariously as the tugging movement shifted his backside and he slid along the slick tree limb upon which he was unsteadily perched.  Convinced the slender branch upon which he sat would never support his weight he glared over at his companion with an angry scowl.

          “I can’t believe you talked me into climbing this tree,” he sputtered at the Woodland Elf leisurely seated across from him upon a similar limb.  Legolas, unlike the ranger, did not seem to be in the least discomfited by his arboreal seat, nor did he appear to be wet or even the slightest bit damp.

          “You said you wished to get out of the rain,” the Elf replied, his face serene and impassive.

          Aragorn grunted some mumbled response that Legolas could not quite make out even with his superb hearing and he suspected it was some sort of Dwarvish curse that was meant to be both offensive and foul.  He grinned into his shoulder but refrained from comment.

          “And just why aren’t you wet?” groused the human.

          Legolas turned innocently and gazed at his friend.  “I walked beneath the trees and their leaves sheltered me,” he explained.  “But I do not find the rain objectionable as do you.”

          “Well, at least you didn’t try to tell me you walked between the raindrops,” Aragorn grumbled.

          Legolas threw his head back and laughed heartily as he drew his soft booted foot up along the branch and rested his elbow upon his knee.  His left leg dangled carelessly out in mid air and his slender body turned slightly to better face the ranger.

          “Well, that, too, but I did not think you would believe me.”

          Aragorn grunted another rude comment and tried once again to shift his weight upon the uncomfortable tree limb.  As he did so, his body’s tenuous position upon the bough went off center and he lurched sideways and then back again as he frantically grabbed for a steadying branch over his head.  He anxiously stared down some twenty feet or so to the forest floor and a dizzying wave of vertigo overcame him as he tried to regain his balance.  But as his breathing finally returned to normal, he was able to right himself anew and nervously settled back against the tree’s sturdy trunk.

          At the ranger’s first slip, Legolas had tensed, ready to leap to his friend’s aid, but he quickly relaxed as he saw that Aragorn had regained his seat upon the opposite branch and was in no real danger of falling.  He chuckled to himself as he thought just how far the human had actually come in mastering the fine art of perching like a bird upon a limb.  When he was certain that Aragorn was indeed safe and secure once more, he spoke softly, his pleasing voice filtering through the backdrop of the thrumming rain.

          “Once the rain has ended, we can regain the ground and you can start a fire.”  He grinned as if some small part of him was enjoying his friend’s misery.  “And dry out.”

          Aragorn tossed the Elf a scathing look, but did not speak the words that had leapt to his lips.  Instead, after arduously counting to twenty and taking several deep lung-filling inhalations, he peered out from under his sopping hood and stared at Legolas with a halfhearted smile.

          “Well if I am forced to roost here with a branch up my rear, the least you can do is tell me some humorous tale to pass the time.”

          Legolas’ musical laughter rang through the forest and even the rain seemed to lessen for just a tiny moment as the harmonious sound rippled through the tree tops.

          “Very well,” the Elf grinned.  “Let me think.”  He paused for a few moments, deep in thought, and then turned to Aragorn with a smile.  “Shall I tell you of my famous escape?”

          Aragorn could think of a great many harrowing escapes that Legolas had miraculously and successfully managed to carry out even though the circumstances leading up to his initial capture had been dire indeed, yet he would not have considered any of those instances funny or humorous.

          “All right then,” he answered.  “Tell me of this escape.”

          Legolas settled back against the tree trunk and even though Aragorn could not see how it could be conceivably possible to do so, looked even more comfortable than he had been before; as if instead of sitting upon a tree limb a score of feet up in the air, he was lounging in one of his plush chairs and in the comfort of his own room.  Aragorn shook his head dismally, knowing that he would never be at home in a tree, nor would he ever accomplish the confident ease and familiarity with the forest that his Elven friend demonstrated.  Legolas’ soft voice interrupted his moody thoughts and he turned his attention instead to the tale to come.

          “I was very young,” he glanced briefly at Aragorn and grinned.  “I would imagine similar to a lad of around five years old if measured by your human standards, and had not yet started my formal studies or weapons training.  I had the complete run of the palace and all the time imaginable to explore the world about me with no worries, no responsibilities, and no duties to perform.  I was an extremely curious Elfling and was constantly getting myself into all manner of scrapes and trouble and was considered quite a handful for my nursemaids and parents.”

          Aragorn rolled his silver eyes in mock amazement.  “I can’t imagine why they would think that.”

          Legolas ignored his friend’s sarcastic gibe and continued.  “I was completely fascinated by the story of the ‘Great Dwarf Escape’ and would beg for the telling of this story whenever I could get an Elder Elf to indulge me.   This, of course, was the tale of Thorin, Balin and the rest of their company and their spectacular flight from Lasgalen.  Eluding my father’s guards, these Dwarves managed to escape from their locked and guarded dungeon cells and then hid themselves within the wine barrels that the kitchen staff regularly tossed into the river to float down to Lake Town.  No one to this day knows how they managed to do this.”

          Aragorn snorted into his soggy cloak.  Gandalf had previously related this same story to him during one of their many wandering journeys and he knew that it was in fact the wily Halfling, Bilbo Baggins who had released the Dwarfs and aided in their escape.  Apparently the wizard had chosen not to share this particular bit of information with King Thranduil.  Well, he mused, some things were just meant to remain a mystery.

          Legolas did not seem to have noticed Aragorn’s brief inattention and was continuing on with his tale.

          “I often came down to the dungeons and peered into each of the cells in turn, wondering how it was that these Dwarves could have gotten free.  And then I would make my way down to the water gate and stare down through the trap door into the rushing river below and imagine each of the thirteen barrels bobbing up and down as they floated all the way down to the Town in the Lake.

          “Well one day, after perpetrating some sort of deviltry that was straight away reported to my father, I found myself in dire need of a place to hide to elude the wrath of my angered parent and the punishment that was sure to follow.  Naturally, I thought of the dungeons and the wooden wine barrels.

          “Once I had gotten it into my head to escape down the river, I hastened to put this plan into action.  I made my way down into the deep passages of the palace without anyone the wiser and rushed over to the rows and rows of empty barrels waiting to be hefted into the river.  The kitchen staff was otherwise occupied with the midday meal and not suspecting any mischief or trouble, had left the water gate open.  The adjacent wooden platform was also devoid of any Elves who might spy me and hand me over to my irate father.

          “I hastily dove into the barrel closest to the trap door and managed to wrestle the lid over my head and it fell loosely into place atop the barrel rim.  Once inside the barrel, however, I began to have second thoughts about the merits of this plan as the air within the wooden barrel was close and stuffy and smelled sickly sweet from the lingering dregs of wine still covering the bottom of the cask.  And, too, the space I occupied was quite cramped and uncomfortable.

          “But before I could get back out of the barrel, voices came echoing through the corridors and I knew that the staff was returning to complete their tasks here in the cellar.  A loud, thudding boom struck the top of my cask and I realized that the lid had been hammered shut, trapping me within the barrel.  The next moment I was rolling over and over and then felt myself falling through the air only to crash into the river a second later.  Water immediately began to seep in through the wooden staves and small knot holes and I was sure that I would drown before I had even left the outskirts of my home.

          “I shouted as loud as I could, but the banging clatter of the wooden barrels as they rolled along the floor and the splashing noise of the river as the barrels hit the water drowned out my feeble, muffled cries and I found myself racing down the river on the swift current.  The other barrels crashed and banged into mine and I was tumbled up and over several times until I was ill with the rocking and swaying motion.  Finally, sick, tired, wet and very hungry, I finally fell into an exhausted sleep.”

          Legolas glanced over at Aragorn and shook his head slightly, as if to say, ‘how could I ever have been so foolish?’  Aragorn smiled slightly, remembering some of the idiotic stunts and trouble he had managed to find himself in as a small boy, and the utter embarrassment he had suffered by having the Sons of Elrond come to his rescue.

          “When I awoke it was quite dark inside the barrel and I found that the rocking motion of the river current had ceased.  I placed my eye to a tiny hole and peered out into the darkness of night.  I could see nothing but blackness and a terrifying panic overcame me as I could not find the top opening of the barrel.  I began to pound my fists against the wood and kick at the sides until I was cut and bleeding, but I could not find the opening.  Eventually, after all the battering of my small fists and feet, the barrel shifted in the shallow water and rolled sideways.  The lid emerged and finally flew outward as I kicked it one last time.

          “I crawled out of the barrel and into the mud and reeds at the river’s edge and breathed in the clear, cool night air.  Apparently while I had been asleep my barrel had drifted away from the others and had become mired within the marshy water at the foot of the riverbank.  I clambered to the top of the slippery banks and stared about me with a growing fear and panic and hot tears started streaming down my cheeks as I realized that I was utterly alone and lost – lost and by now, terribly hungry.

          “My hand reached down to my belt and I felt the tiny dagger attached to the leather binding my tunic.  It was not a real weapon, of course, and mostly for show, but it did have a sharp point and I felt better for the having of it.  I pulled it out and held it out in front of me as I peered into the deep darkness of the forest.  The frightening sounds of woodland creatures I could not yet identify assaulted my ears and my tears came all the stronger until, to my great relief, I spied a soft, yellow light within the darkness of the trees.

          “I started to move forward toward the welcoming light when a menacing growl came out of the bushes to my right and two glowing yellow eyes watched me from within the leaves.  I let out a  terrified shriek and ran for the light, never once looking back to see if the yellow-eyed beast was following me or nay and I did not stop until I came stumbling into the firelight.  My raucous, thrashing flight through the trees had alerted the hunting party of Wood Elves and when I burst into the circle of light, I found myself staring up at a dozen arrow shafts pointed directly at my chest.

          “Needless to say my unexpected appearance in their midst caused quite an uproar.  The Wood Elves immediately surmised that I was King Thranduil’s missing son for a hue and cry had been sent throughout the realm telling one and all of my disappearance.  They kindly fed me and gave me a soft blanket to rest upon as they gathered up their gear and began to raise camp, preparing to return me to my father.  I was so tired and hungry that I did not even object to the idea of being returned home even though I knew that when I was at last presented to my father, my punishment would be severe.”

          Aragorn laughed mightily and almost lost his seat upon the limb again but grabbed hold of the tree trunk in time to steady himself.   “I can just imagine the trouble you were in once the king finally got his hands on you!”

          Legolas grimaced at the memory and nodded his golden head.  “Let us just say that I spent the next several days standing up rather more than usual.”

          Aragorn swiped at his tearing eyes as his laughter rang through the trees and eventually Legolas joined in, trying to speak between snorts of laughter and gulps for breath.  “My father was not at all impressed with my escape plan, but from that day forward, the water gate was kept closed and a more stringent guard was posted within the dungeon passages.  The soldiers were given strict orders to report my appearance in the dungeons and were to have me bodily removed from the cellar should I ever venture down that way again.”

          Legolas cackled louder and had to grab onto a branch to steady himself as he wobbled upon his limb.  “It took me exactly three days to find another way down into the cellar, but I never got it into my head to take another barrel ride down the river.”

          As their laughter turned to breathy wheezes, Legolas glanced upward through the tree branches and smiled.  “The rain has stopped,” he grinned at Aragorn.  “Time to build that fire and get you dry.”

… And that’s the end of this tale.

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