The Phoenix and the Griffin
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
24
Views:
1,407
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
24
Views:
1,407
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
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.
A Father's wrath
The Duke and Duchess Ar-Feiniel arrived at the Ford of Bruinen and their fears were being realised. She had run with her lover, not Berindon who was indeed in the Havens, to marry before Lord Elrond. He sent riders passed Rivendell to try to pick up a trail in the chance they had merely skimmed the city and gone for the high pass.
Lord Elrond’s Marchers stood looking at the small army of Ar-Feiniel, the Duke and Duchess at the helm.
“Come Your Grace,” The tall blond elf inclined his head, “but only yourselves.”
”I will have my sons.”
“Of course.”
Curanor, Nurwen, Padathir and Dagnir followed Lord Erestor to the private chambers of Lord Elrond.
“Your Highness,” Curanor said through gritted teeth.
“Your Grace,” Elrond answered evenly.
They stood looking at one another.
“Where is my daughter?” Curanor asked finally.
“Gone now some days with her husband, Curanor.” Elrond held his hand up. Nurwen gasped. “It is a done thing, she has reached her majority, it was properly accomplished to the naming of the names. You cannot undo it.”
Dagnir stifled a cry, and Padathir took his brother in his arms.
“Why?” Curanor cried holding his hand out to his wife, a gesture of dismay and deep confusion. “Why would she do such a thing as this, Nurwen?”
“Because you will say she is traitor, she is bound to Amaras Tur-anion.”
“WHAT?!” Curanor bellowed.
“The bastard?!” Padathir shouted and Dagnir burst into a fresh paroxysm of tears.
Elrond frowned, “He is more than bastard, my lord, and one day if you give him a chance to …”
“To what?!” Padathir challenged over his brother’s shoulder as he held him, “He has stolen my sister. Enchanted her, she would not have…”
Elrond shouted back, “It was no enchantment save the one of half a soul finding its’ other. They bound themselves twenty years ago, Padathir!”
Erestor chimed gently in. “Lay down this feud, your houses are joined.”
Curanor covered his face with his hands and listened to the weeping of his son and wife, “Twenty years ago?” He asked.
“Curanor, you are a mighty general, and great lord, surely you can see that this is the brightest and best path. Your daughter has set your feet on this road. Follow her lead…”
“Where did they go?” Curanor asked.
Elrond stood silent. Curanor narrowed his eyes and nodded. “I will never forgive you, my lord, for this.”
“Jön,” he said to his sons, took Nurwen’s arm. Padathir holding Dagnir who wiped his eyes as his father, mother and brother quickly walked from the room. He raised his eyes to Elrond whose lips parted in knowledge. Dagnir knew the truth of this, and stood silent protecting his sister. Elrond nodded his appreciation and Dagnir followed his family.
“A large troop has gone toward the High Pass, Your Grace, perhaps…”
Curanor nodded and kicked his horse to ride ahead of everyone to hide his tears of rage, humiliation and disorder of mind.
“We will find them Dagnir,” Padathir comforted his brother; their father and mother was beyond his ability to assist.
“And what then Padathir? What then will we do? Kill Amaras? He dies we kill our sister…”
“I do not hold to that, Dags,” Padathir tossed his head, “we are not Teleri or Noldor or Silvan or Sindar to fall down and die when one we love does.”
Nurwen listened to her son’s scorn of her kin, and would have taken him to task for it, but not today. Heartbroken she watched her husband riding stiffly ahead of them. Phaila was his leány, he dotedoted on her, was ever proud of even her smallest of accomplishments. Perhaps it is a good thing they did not ‘fall down and die’ when grieved to their soul for this would kill him if true.
“You do not know Phaila’s heart, you never have,” Dagnir answered angrily, “If she wills it, it will come. And what if she is pregnant? What of the babe?”
“What of that Atya?” Dagnir called to his father.
“Be still, Dagnir,” his mother hissed but too late.
“What?” Curanor rose from his daze, turned in the saddle and drew his horse to a stop.
“What if Phaila is pregnant? Will you kill the father of her babe?”
Curanor rocked in the saddle, “She would not conceive now.” He murmured looked aghast to Nurwen who looked helplessly back. She no longer knew her daughter and what she was capable of after this. “Her… husband,” he growled the word, “if he has a brain in his skull will not allow it, they are hunted, and will be until I have no breath. He’ll get no children on my girl!”
“What will you do Atya, when you have killed him? Put her in chains?”
“Csend Dagnir, I know you love your sister, I cannot think, leave me alone!” Curanor snapped and kicked his horse into a gallop. It was true; he could not think on anything passed killing Amaras, and the fact that for the first time in his life had cause to beat Phaila to within an inch of hers. He had scarcely time to process she had married the Tur-anion bastard, before Dagnir presented the possibility that she carried his child in her too. He had never been quite capable of reconciling his mind with the fact that one day Phaila would lie in a marriage bed. The thought of the Tur-anion mantling his precious daughter turned his mind black and he screamed his rage as he galloped toward the High Pass.
Jön - come
Atya - father
csend - be still/be quiet
Lord Elrond’s Marchers stood looking at the small army of Ar-Feiniel, the Duke and Duchess at the helm.
“Come Your Grace,” The tall blond elf inclined his head, “but only yourselves.”
”I will have my sons.”
“Of course.”
Curanor, Nurwen, Padathir and Dagnir followed Lord Erestor to the private chambers of Lord Elrond.
“Your Highness,” Curanor said through gritted teeth.
“Your Grace,” Elrond answered evenly.
They stood looking at one another.
“Where is my daughter?” Curanor asked finally.
“Gone now some days with her husband, Curanor.” Elrond held his hand up. Nurwen gasped. “It is a done thing, she has reached her majority, it was properly accomplished to the naming of the names. You cannot undo it.”
Dagnir stifled a cry, and Padathir took his brother in his arms.
“Why?” Curanor cried holding his hand out to his wife, a gesture of dismay and deep confusion. “Why would she do such a thing as this, Nurwen?”
“Because you will say she is traitor, she is bound to Amaras Tur-anion.”
“WHAT?!” Curanor bellowed.
“The bastard?!” Padathir shouted and Dagnir burst into a fresh paroxysm of tears.
Elrond frowned, “He is more than bastard, my lord, and one day if you give him a chance to …”
“To what?!” Padathir challenged over his brother’s shoulder as he held him, “He has stolen my sister. Enchanted her, she would not have…”
Elrond shouted back, “It was no enchantment save the one of half a soul finding its’ other. They bound themselves twenty years ago, Padathir!”
Erestor chimed gently in. “Lay down this feud, your houses are joined.”
Curanor covered his face with his hands and listened to the weeping of his son and wife, “Twenty years ago?” He asked.
“Curanor, you are a mighty general, and great lord, surely you can see that this is the brightest and best path. Your daughter has set your feet on this road. Follow her lead…”
“Where did they go?” Curanor asked.
Elrond stood silent. Curanor narrowed his eyes and nodded. “I will never forgive you, my lord, for this.”
“Jön,” he said to his sons, took Nurwen’s arm. Padathir holding Dagnir who wiped his eyes as his father, mother and brother quickly walked from the room. He raised his eyes to Elrond whose lips parted in knowledge. Dagnir knew the truth of this, and stood silent protecting his sister. Elrond nodded his appreciation and Dagnir followed his family.
“A large troop has gone toward the High Pass, Your Grace, perhaps…”
Curanor nodded and kicked his horse to ride ahead of everyone to hide his tears of rage, humiliation and disorder of mind.
“We will find them Dagnir,” Padathir comforted his brother; their father and mother was beyond his ability to assist.
“And what then Padathir? What then will we do? Kill Amaras? He dies we kill our sister…”
“I do not hold to that, Dags,” Padathir tossed his head, “we are not Teleri or Noldor or Silvan or Sindar to fall down and die when one we love does.”
Nurwen listened to her son’s scorn of her kin, and would have taken him to task for it, but not today. Heartbroken she watched her husband riding stiffly ahead of them. Phaila was his leány, he dotedoted on her, was ever proud of even her smallest of accomplishments. Perhaps it is a good thing they did not ‘fall down and die’ when grieved to their soul for this would kill him if true.
“You do not know Phaila’s heart, you never have,” Dagnir answered angrily, “If she wills it, it will come. And what if she is pregnant? What of the babe?”
“What of that Atya?” Dagnir called to his father.
“Be still, Dagnir,” his mother hissed but too late.
“What?” Curanor rose from his daze, turned in the saddle and drew his horse to a stop.
“What if Phaila is pregnant? Will you kill the father of her babe?”
Curanor rocked in the saddle, “She would not conceive now.” He murmured looked aghast to Nurwen who looked helplessly back. She no longer knew her daughter and what she was capable of after this. “Her… husband,” he growled the word, “if he has a brain in his skull will not allow it, they are hunted, and will be until I have no breath. He’ll get no children on my girl!”
“What will you do Atya, when you have killed him? Put her in chains?”
“Csend Dagnir, I know you love your sister, I cannot think, leave me alone!” Curanor snapped and kicked his horse into a gallop. It was true; he could not think on anything passed killing Amaras, and the fact that for the first time in his life had cause to beat Phaila to within an inch of hers. He had scarcely time to process she had married the Tur-anion bastard, before Dagnir presented the possibility that she carried his child in her too. He had never been quite capable of reconciling his mind with the fact that one day Phaila would lie in a marriage bed. The thought of the Tur-anion mantling his precious daughter turned his mind black and he screamed his rage as he galloped toward the High Pass.
Jön - come
Atya - father
csend - be still/be quiet