Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

WEST WIND OVER EDORAS	By : Silverfrost Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 17715 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
WEST WIND OVER EDORAS

Disclaimer: The characters and places here are not mine, all but a few are Tolkein's genius. If it's in LOTR, Silmarillion, Hobbit or Unfinished tales it Tolkien' s. If not it's mine.
No profit in this but the fun of writing and getting to play in Middle earth for a while.

A/N What happens when Legolas meets a grieving, virginal shieldmaiden of Rohan. Rated NC-17 for explicit hetereosexual content, but heavy on the romance. Explores a developing relationship in adversity, culture clash, binding love and mortality/immortality. Initially based on the film and the book and then continuing throughout their lives.
Written from both the point of view of Rowannen interspersed with Legolas.
If this is not your scene, then go and read something else instead.

WEST WIND OVER EDORAS

Chapter One:

WEST WIND OVER EDORAS
.

ROWANNEN:

I stood in the wind and tears of grief stung my eyes. Here at the top of the hill on the large stone platform before the entrance to Meduseld our Golden Hall, the gusts were strongest. Flying in from the west, it sang around the chimneys, flattered the flames of the brazier into a bending, crackling dance. It teased at the horse banner, stroking it into wild ripples against the sky. It whipped my hair away from my face in tangled ribbons and chased the tears to streak across my cheeks.

Lost in my thoughts, I did not hear Eowyn join me, until she slipped an arm about my shoulder and turning toward each other, we held each other tight, as our tears slid down. These past nights we had taken it in turns to sit with Theodred, as the last vestiges of his lifeforce slipped away. We were both weary with sleeplessness, with horror and helplessness. When death finally claimed him, together we dressed his body in his finest clothes, arranged his hair and placed his fine sword in his hands. He had been gone from us for many hours, but Eowyn had kept vigil until now, beside his cold body.

Eowyn lifted her head. Her tears already dry. Theodred�. to her, a much cherished cousin, as dear as her brother Eomer to her heart, to me, a childhood friend and lately, I had dared to hope for so much more, for we had been on the verge of becoming lovers as I came of age. Now, so cruelly wrested from us.

My tears still flowed, but cold, steely determination crept across Eowyn�s features. I marvelled at her resolve. I for one, knew not how much more grief we could stand. These last days seemed to be rushing toward cataclysm. The war creeping across our lands into the Westfold. King Theoden ever sicker and drawn into madness and apathy by Grima Wormtongue�s insiduous evil. The shocking banishment of Eomer, our greatest hope, and now the death of precious Prince Theodred, amongst so many other fine warriors lost to us.

I turned to gaze out, over our beloved land. The dry, bleached winter grasses stretched to the horizon, moving in the wind like the waves of a vast ocean, and out there in the emptiness, a disturbance to draw the eyes. My eyes focused further and I squeezed Eowyn�s hand.

�Eowyn, take heed. There are riders approaching!�

As we watched, the specks in the distance drew nearer, Eowyn gasped,

�There are three horses, I cannot be mistaken. The first horse is of stature and white-silver unsurpassed; one of the Mearas, Shadowfax, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell .He will be ridden by no other than Gandalf. Why should the Wizard choose to visit us at such a time? Dare I hope for a change in our fortunes? Rowannen, come, we must warn the guard and prepare the stable boys to receive visitors.�

Eowyn dispatched the guard and gave out orders. I mustered the serving women and requested fresh food to be prepared and large copper basins filled from the springs and lifted over the fires, to heat water for bathing. We met again at the balcony and stared at the approaching party. The wind increased in intensity and tore in abandon at the horse banner. The flag trembled and tore from its fixing to flow into the air, twisting and swirling, it allowed the wind to take it. Dropping down in a rare moment of calm, it landed at the feet of the Ranger riding toward us. Eowyn let out a gasp of suppressed emotion; her hand flew to her heart. To my keen eyes it would seem that although only three horses galloped toward our stronghold, there were four riders. A short, squat body, riding pillion, clinging closely to a long lithe form upon a stunning grey�. The rider on the grey swept down his arm and pulled the banner to his body to bring it back to Edoras.

�Surely that is Arod, who races towards us now?� I asked of Eowyn.

I had spent many of my childhood hours in the stable and knew each of our horses well, by form and name.

�Aye.� she replied. �Eomer sent word to me with a messenger, of the battle with the orcs and of a meeting with a ranger, an elf and a dwarf. He spoke highly of them and gave them two horses, recently rider less and without masters, Arod and Hasufel, to help in their quest,�
She lowered her head, memories of the account of slaughter at the Fords of Isen assailing her.
�It can only be these who approach now with the Wizard.�

For long, had threat of war been upon our lands and I with my young years, had never been abroad beyond its boundaries, although I had heard tales, heard songs of other races. I was intrigued to think that now I would soon have first hand knowledge of other beings in Middle Earth. Gandalf was a wizard known to our realm and Rangers I had met before, the long-lived race of the Dunedain, and appreciated their skills and wisdom, but never before a Dwarf or an Elf. Curiosity cut through the sad grey veils of my grief.

I was making my way back to the platform with a basket of fruit as the strangers reached the entrance to the Golden Hall. Their horses now stabled, they approached, and I heard voices requesting audience with the King. Hama, my brother, spoke firmly.

�I cannot allow you before the King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame� By order of Grima Wormtongue.� He added apologetically.
I heard swords and axes laid against stone as they complied. I was about to turn the corner. I could see Gandalf�s robes flickering out into the wind at the corner of my eyes, when I heard another voice� and I stopped in my tracks, riveted to the spot by the beauty and cadence of those tones, although I did not know its meaning.

�I Hul Annui tol padol, ah os idh raim as vad.�

((The western wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes)).

Never before had I heard such a beautiful voice, such timbre, yet such gentleness, it caught at my sore heart and was as balm to the hurt I carried there.

I turned the corner; my heart held by the sound of magic and yet was unprepared for the sight that met my eyes. Before me stood Gandalf. The wizard had been our guest before. I was accustomed to his prescence here at Edoras, but he was changed. He looked ever more luminous, more powerful, my grief worn eyes ached at the sheer power emanating from his being. His staff still held in his hand.

�You would not part an old man from his walking stick?� He asked my brother with a wry smile.

A Ranger stood beside him, again a being accustomed to our sight, travel weary, but with great bearing and authority as if he were a King. Surely here was a great leader of men. A dwarf, broader and stronger than I had imagined. The endurance of this race struck me. The solidity, the likeness to rock. And then my eyes strayed to the speaker of the words I had just heard. I was undone. I no longer knew who I was, or where I stood. Before me, next to the Wizard, stood the Elf. The first of his race that I had ever beheld, yet unmistakable. I had to remind myself to breathe. I turned to Eowyn for help, but her gaze was fixed upon the Ranger.

I looked back to the Elf, unable to resist and almost cried aloud. My heart, given to Theodred so recently and broken in two, screamed silently at this renewed onslaught. I could not believe my treachery, yet I must admit this was the most beautiful being I had ever beheld. He stood erect and proud, tall and fair, so knowing and aware, yet careful of courtesy, his pride ever guarded. The beauty of his countenance was beyond any I had known. That such a magical voice should also belong to such a being was beyond my comprehension. His hair was of a loveliness I had never before seen; flowing, yet braided in exquisite twists and the colour and shine of gold and mithril combined. I gasped against my will as he brought his gaze to mine as I beheld him. His eyes were my downfall. All the knowledge of the earth was encompassed there in the colour of the sky. I struggled to bring my feelings and thoughts under control, but so raw were my emotions this day, I failed. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes, yet I could not tell if they were of grief or joy.

Hama still eyed Gandalf�s staff then came to decision. The best he ever made I now believe.

�In doubt, a man of worth will trust to his own wisdom.� He said. �I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honour, who have no evil purpose. You may go in.�

The guards now satisfied at the divesting of the impressive weapons, allowed admittance to the King in the Golden Hall. I slipped in behind them, hoping to disguise my discomfiture, and my gaze was ever on the Elf. They walked stately and slow under the ceremonial weapons, the black and gold banners. I observed the Elf glancing around at our splendour, the intricate carvings and rich tapestries, some of which were worked by my own fingers. It suddenly mattered to me that he should admire our finery, find pleasure in our art.

As the guests walked forward, Gandalf leant heavily on the arm of the Elf, but his voice was not that of an old man.

�The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King.� His clear tones rang into the silence.

�Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?� wheezed the King in reply. Grima traded insults with the wizard, then Gandalf rose up to full height, his old grey cloak cast aside he shone white and brilliant as he challenged the King and Grima. The guards of the Mark leapt forward in sudden reaction, but equally did the Ranger, Dwarf and Elf respond to this challenge.

The Ranger and dwarf displayed strength and determination as they countered the attack but the Elf was power and grace to behold. Despite being weaponless he found no trouble in overcoming many strong guards. His body was so lithe and athletic; he felled his opponents with a mere stroke, belying his trim form. They scattered before him and he struck out with such strength, dexterity and awareness. He knew even without sight, when they came at him from behind and had dispatched them with lightning speed blows of legs or arms, needing no weapon, before they came near his body. I drew in my breath with wonder at his prowess!

When our Guards had been subdued. Gandalf raised his staff. Suddenly an ornate walking stick was transfigured into the greatest wand, an instrument of magic unrivalled. He uttered incantations in an ancient tongue and Grima curled in agony to the floor. The dwarf pinned the loathsome creature to the ground. Gandalf uttered spells and challenged the evil of Saruman. Slowly, Theoden returned to us, his eyes returning to the present, his skin flushing with new life. The evil of Saruman left him and Grima squirmed upon the ground.

The Ranger, who had been holding Eowyn by the arm, released her to run to the King. My brother Hama brought Theoden�s sword to his newly strengthened hands and our King was restored to us. The magic of Gandalf the grey, streamed into our kingdom. Eowyn was beside herself with joy. She knelt before her Uncle; tears of happiness streaming down her sweet face. It was a beautiful moment and a great turning point for our people. There was much rejoicing and wonder, and as Theoden regained his mind, Grima was banished from our realm forever.

My heart did indeed rejoice, yet throughout, my eyes strayed to the vision of beauty, which was the Elf. Eowyn was oblivious to my plight, so caught up in her newfound joy, and I was happy for her, but my brother stared at me with keen eyes. Hama, my eldest brother, had raised me from a youngster, following the death of our parents from fever. I had been a child of their middle age, much younger than my siblings. He was a good man, solid and strong. Practical and calm. Yet his exterior belied a keen intellect and discernment, which few guessed at. There was little escaped his gaze, except perhaps when he had partaken of too much ale. He stared at me now, noting my discomfiture and also its cause.

�Rowannen, come.� He said in his deep voice. �Bring your platter of fruits and help me show our guests to their chambers.�

I followed meekly, my heart fluttering wildly as the Wizard, the Ranger, the Dwarf and finally the exquisite Elf followed my footsteps across the hall.

As we walked, Hama introduced the now honoured guests to me, for I had missed this at their arrival. Gandalf I knew, remembered from my childhood, for who could forget his visits and on feast days his marvellous fireworks? The dwarf, so strange to my eyes, yet not so unlike the men of our realm in strength and feature, just in stature, was named Gimli. The Ranger I learnt was Aragorn, heir of Isildur and heir to the throne of Gondor. A leader of men indeed, and the Elf was Legolas Thranduilion, the Prince of Mirkwood. How odd that I had but this day lost one prince and found another one. With the wizard, Aragorn and Gimli shown their chambers, Hama excused himself and with a �Take care little sister,� left me at the last door with the elven prince.

I found my voice from somewhere but it trembled.

�Will you enter, Sir?� I asked as I turned the handle and pushed the heavy door inward. He smiled at me as he passed within and it was as if a thousand suns shone upon my face and lit the world.

�Nay, you must call me Legolas, as everyone does.� he said, as I placed the remaining fruit onto the low table, and again the music of his voice flowed into my ears even though he now spoke in the common tongue and not his own language.

�Legolas� I replied, my only reason to hear the sound of his name upon my lips.

�It is but a simple name in my realm,� he said. �It means Greenleaf. And now please tell me yours.� I drew much needed breath into my throat.

�Rowannen,� I replied. �Named for the berries of the rowan tree.�
He smiled again, my head span.

�I can see why.� He nodded towards my still tangled tresses. �Your bright hair is like the autumn glory of leaves in Mirkwood.�

I felt a blush rise across my cheek and saw him raise a hand as if to brush the locks of hair of which he spoke from my face. Then the door swung wide and two stablehands, released from normal duties entered, carrying the copper urns. Legolas�s hands unfastened his cloak instead and laid it on the bed as the boys poured the steaming water into the tub in the corner of the room. I stood rooted to the spot as the boys left with the empty urns. The room was so quiet and the steam floated gently into the air.

�I must go, your water will be cooling.� I managed to say. Though I did not want to leave.

A strange fascination washed over me and I lowered my head in confusion. Legolas took the overtunic from his body and stood in front of me clad now only in his brown leggings and silver-blue undertunic. He placed his hand under my chin to raise my eyes to his. His touch was charged with lightning shivers and his eyes burned into my own. He began to unbraid his hair and I felt it was the most erotic sight I had ever seen.

�You will find soap, towels and a comb, all you may need in the chest by the bed.� I managed to gasp, before I backed out of the room whilst I still had the power to do so.

I closed the door softly behind me and stood shaking in the passageway, my back against the wall, drawing the air into my lungs in long slow gulps. I heard the soft splashes of his body in the water and then he began to sing to himself, for he could not of known I still stood so close.

Gil Galad aran edhellen
O den I thelegain linnar naer
I vedui: I ndor din bain a lain
Athran Ered ah I Aear

I vagol din and, I ech din laeg
I dol din silol palan-gennen;
I ngeil ernediaid e-dalf Menel
Cennin be genedril min thand din cheleg

Dan and-io e palan-rochant
Ah ias e dhortha uben bol peded
A na vor dannant I il din
Mi Mordor ias I nuath gaedar

I listened to the beautiful words rise and fall and it mattered not that I had not the sense of them. His voice alone was all I needed. I felt the tears begin to flow down my cheeks again and knew not why.

LEGOLAS:

As I lie back in the steaming water I reflect on this day. After much hard riding we are at last at Edoras. Home of the steeds which Eomer gave to us. Uncertain of our welcome it has turned out better than expected. Thank the Valar for Gandalf�s staff and the sense of the guard! The warriors and guard now have a fine respect for our skills and everyone will rejoice for the restoration of their King and Grima�s banishment, though I fear �twould have been better had he been killed.

Yet still there is grief here. War is drawing nearer; Eomer is still abroad in Rohan and does not know of these events. Theoden has learnt of the death of his son and of course all grieve for him.

Grief it is, that I see in the eyes of the maiden of Rohan. She has been ever watching me since I came to the Golden Hall and my presence affects her greatly. If I am true, then I must say that hers affects me also. She is so fair, with her pale skin and flaming red gold hair, her body tall, yet dainty and graceful, so unlike the many peasant women who watched us from their doorways as we ascended through Edoras to Meduseld. She is more slender than the Lady Eowyn herself and to my eyes more lovely. She is so young and has an almost elven beauty. Her eyes though, so sad. They sparkle green as emeralds but are weary with crying and close to fresh tears.

When she entered my room and we were alone, I wanted so much to heal the hurt there, to take her in my arms and bring her comfort, but she is so unsure, like a startled fawn who will wheel away into the forest at the snapping of a twig. I could have taken her when the servants left and the bath was steaming. I could tell from her trembling body that she did not wish to leave. I had only to put my arms around her and she would have become as hot wax under my touch, but I did not. There is such innocence, such hurt and such longing in her eyes. She deserves great care.

We shall be here for some time yet. Tomorrow is Theodred�s funeral, which all shall attend and beyond that we must plan a strategy for war and the people�s safety with Theoden and the Rohirrim. I shall see if she will come to me again. In fact I think she has not yet left. I feel her presence outside my door still. My body stirs with awakening desire and I feel my flesh grow hard under the water. I am tempted to run my hands over myself now I have time to relax, for it has been long weeks since I lay with the lovely Threthiel in Lothlorien, but I do not. I am well practised at restraint. I have a different idea. She likes my voice. I can see it in her eyes when I speak to her. I shall sing her a song. A sad one though, in keeping with this time. Gil-Galad has a nice lilt to it.

End of Chapter One.

Thanks to I-mbar maethor for the translation of the song, which is:

((Gil-Galads Lament

Gil-Galad was an Elven King
Of him the harpers sadly sing
The last; whose realm was fair and free
Between the mountains and the sea

His sword was long, his lance was keen
His shining helm afar was seen
The countless stars of heavens field
Were mirrored in his silver shield

But long ago he rode away
And where he dwelleth none can say
For into darkness fell his star
In Mordor where the shadows are.))
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

WEST WIND OVER EDORAS