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The Early Years: With Anor's Rise	By : nuwing Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3471 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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*Title: The Early Years: With Anor�s Rise (1/3)
*Author: Minuial Nuwing
*Contact: minuial_nuwing@yahoo.com
*Website: First Light � http://geocities.com/minuial_nuwing
*Rating: NC-17
*Type: FPS
*Pairing: Legolas/Haldir
*Warning: Um...slash? **grin**
*Archive: First Light, AFF.net, LoM, OEAM, Cipher; Others: I would be honored-Just let me know, please!
*Feedback: Makes me smile, and write faster�
*Beta: Allie (hugs) Any remaining errors are all mine.
*Summary: Legolas comes of age, and Haldir comes to the party. A tale from the years before �Princes Three�, but it will stand alone as a PWP.
*Note: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not used for simple emphasis. In plain text, stars indicate italics. One star (*blah*) for emphasis, two stars (**blah**) for mindspeak or thoughts.
*Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else belongs to the creator-god of Middle-earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and humbled by his vision. I promise to clean them all up and return them with smiles on their faces when I am done playing!
*A/N: This story is dedicated to Ryo, with much love. I hope it will be worth the wait, sweetie!
Unlike most of the EY fics, this one is divided into three chapters: A brief beginning, a longer second chapter, and a short epilogue. Thankfully, the second chapter is off to beta, so I hope to have it up in days rather than weeks, which is a relief to me as well as impatient readers!
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The Early Years: With Anor�s Rise

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...Legolas went still, the playfully menacing whisper and sudden stab of pain-become-pleasure carrying him back in time. His overwhelmed senses reeled, and he was cradled in sweet-smelling grasses on a hot summer day. The silken hair that shrouded his face was not midnight dark, but gold-sparked silver, and he was young and afraid...

-'Princes Three: Any Shelter, chapter 8
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~Mirkwood 1550 III~
Legolas watched the approach of the Lor�en party with poorly disguised anxiety. His father had spoken frankly of the upcoming rites. So frankly that, truth be told, his cheeks colored at the memory of it. But there had been no hint as to which ellon had been chosen to introduce the second prince of the woodland realm to passion�s mysteries. �Please, please...not Celeborn,� Legolas begged silently, his heart leaping into his throat as the silver-haired elf rode into view.
The crown prince - his elder brother, Anteruon - had spent his majority revels with one of the king�s senior advisors, a fact which caused such gossip and infighting in the council chamber that Thranduil had sworn he would not make the mistake twice. Thus Legolas� current distress...one of the guests he greeted today would rid him of his bodily innocence tomorrow.
The woodland king watched his son�s face with well-concealed amusement. Though the youngling no doubt thought his features schooled into a mask of welcome, his eyes gave him away. The blue-green gaze had sparkled with excitement as the contingent from Imladris arrived, only to dampen when it became apparent that the Peredhil twins were not among the party, then widen in alarm as Lord Elrond himself stepped forward.
Thranduil had thought to remain noncommittal, but the look of near terror that flickered across the prince�s face caused him to shake his head slightly in reassurance. Not Elrond. The sigh of relief had been audible, and the Peredhel�s twinkling eyes were proof that he, too, was forcing back a smile.
As Celeborn and his guard dismounted, the woodland king experienced a moment of unease. His choice of bed-teacher for his second-born son had been made on the strength of a memory, and was unusual by all accounts. The elf in question was neither ancient nor well acquainted with the youngling...
��Twas a good choice, melethen,� Miluien murmured, squeezing her husband�s arm comfortingly. �I still remember the adoration in his eyes, those many years ago.�
�Aye,� Thranduil whispered, �but oft adoration and passion are poor bedfellows, especially for the young. I hope I have not erred.�
Legolas stood tensely, fighting a growing sense of horror, as Celeborn greeted his parents and elder brother. A survivor of Doriath and one of the lords of Lor�en, Celeborn was a legend, as powerful in his own way as his Lady. The thought of shedding his leggings under that cool silver gaze made the woodland prince feel queasy, and a nervous laugh bubbled in his chest.
Swallowing the threatening hysteria with difficulty, Legolas bowed his head in welcome. �Mae govannen, h�ren,� he said politely, raising his eyes reluctantly to the Elf-lord�s face as he forced out the expected greeting. �You honor me with your presence.�
�The honor is mine, Thranduilion,� Celeborn replied gravely, though the raging emotion visible beneath the prince�s thin veneer of correctness both amused and moved him. The youngling was near panic, the cause of his anxiety easily discerned.
Stepping aside slightly, the Elf-lord drew his companion forward. �Prince Legolas,� he began, �I believe you once met...�
Celeborn�s words faded away into meaningless noise as Legolas caught sight of the other elf. The hair was longer, the mithril-like gleam of mingled silver and gold even more brilliant. There were no kohl stripes to accent the high cheekbones and, instead of black leather, the visitor wore the grey traveling garb of his people. But the eyes...the eyes were unchanged. Swirls of green, brown and gold drew the prince in, just as they had centuries before, and he was once again drowning in the warm gaze...
�Haldir.� The whispered name left his lips without thought. Legolas came back to himself with a start as he was caught in a ritual embrace. �A warrior�s embrace,� he realized dazedly, struggling to return the greeting in kind as his mind whirled frantically, a small flicker of hope flaring in his chest.
�Mae govannen,� Haldir said as he stepped back to look at the woodland prince, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. �You have grown well, pen neth. �Tis an honor to be here for your coming of age.�
His heart pounding as the ambiguous compliment played over and over in his head, Legolas met the marchwarden�s gaze, flushing under the gleam in the unusual hazel eyes. A gleam at once friendly and blatantly appraising.
The prince knew without a doubt that he had his answer. Haldir.
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�He is a mass of nerves,� Thranduil lamented, the formal evening robes he had yet to remove swishing and swirling as he paced the study restlessly. �And I do not know how to ease his mind.�
�You might begin by easing your own, h�ren,� Haldir replied quietly, his eyes focused on the deep red wine that filled the goblet in his hand. �Would you care to share your worries? You are making me nervous.�
The king stopped abruptly, seating himself across from the Lor�en elf. �Forgive me, mellonen,� he said. �I do not question your role. He is just....�
�...your son,� the marchwarden finished with the hint of a smile, meeting the worried emerald gaze. �And you feel as though you should be locking him away from my lecherous advances.�
Thranduil chuckled, but did not deny the assertion. �He is young.�
�Mayhap,� Haldir answered carefully. �But not so young as many at their first bedding. Not in Lor�en, and certainly not in Taur-na-Fuin. I sometimes think �tis the better way, with experience coming as it may, rather than planned and steeped in ritual and anxiety.�
�Aye,� the king admitted with a sigh, �you are correct, of course. Only the nobles maintain the tradition of celibacy until lawful majority, in any realm. Our rites here are often naught but opportunity for the left piercing, truth be known.�
Haldir nodded his understanding of the ancient Silvan tradition of nipple piercing � right for first kill in battle, left for first bedding � that Thranduil had taken as his own. �I have some experience with the rings,� the Galadhel offered, hoping to soothe the woodland king�s anxiety.
�And with innocents, I presume?� the Thranduil asked frankly, searching the marchwarden�s face.
�Aye, and with innocents,� Haldir agreed, unable to hide a smile. �I can claim no previous royal majorities, h�ren, but I am quite well-schooled in the art of bedding untried ellon.� Becoming serious, the Lor�en elf laid a hand on the king�s arm. �All will be well, mellonen. Legolas was a delightful elfling, and he has grown into a fine young warrior. There is naught to fear.�
�You reassure me,� Thranduil replied, grasping his companion�s arm in return. �I chose well.�
Haldir dipped his head in acknowledgement, then met the king�s eyes thoughtfully. �If it pleases you, I will spend some portion of the day with him tomorrow, renewing our acquaintance. A picnic in the old tower clearing, mayhap?�
��Tis an excellent idea,� Thranduil said, nodding distractedly. �Just the thing. I will have the cooks prepare a basket.�
As the marchwarden drained his glass and rose to leave, the king stopped him with a word. �Haldir?�
�Aye?�
�I would have you aware of another of our quaint Taur-na-Fuin traditions.�
Haldir found himself pinned by an intense emerald gaze. �H�ren?�
�Legolas comes of age with anor�s rise tomorrow.�
�Indeed? With anor�s rise?�
Thranduil nodded, the ghost of a smile touching his face. �Aye. Should the fact become pertinent.�

TBC...
Elvish Translations:
ellon � male elf

Peredhel/Peredhil � half-elf, half elven (sing./pl.)

melethen � my love

Mae govannen � Well met

h�ren � my lord

pen neth � young one

Taur-na-Fuin � Mirkwood (wood of nightshade)

mellonen � my friend

Thranduilion � son of Thranduil

anor � the sun
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The Early Years: With Anor's Rise

The Early Years: With Anor�s Rise