The other Elves pushed him out of the way and laughed at him, telling him that a fat ugly child like him didn't belong there at all. One of them proceeded to steal his quiver and dangled it high, just above his reach. Legolas tried to jump up to grab at it, but with his stubby little legs, he could not leap high enough to get it. He would have been in tears, but he was a Prince and he refused to cry. The young Elf knew he could not fight them with his strength; if he were to get his arrows back, he would have to use his wits and cunning. Instead of jumping directly upwards, he leant forward when he leapt. Though he still could not reach his target, the chubby Elf landed squarely on the feet of his tormentor. The taller Elf yelped in pain and promptly dropped Legolas' quiver as he bent over to check his feet. Though the Elven prince had won a victory that day in regaining his arrows, he had made enemies with his entire class. From that day on, Legolas' warrior training had turned into a living hell.