Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6313 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter IX: The Shores of Aman

Valinor, Nárië 121 FA

The archer sighed heavily as he shook himself out of his memories. He looked out from the prow of the grey ship he had built to take him over sea. But though he kept his back to Middle-earth and resolutely looked to the West, a part of him still hearkened to the lands in which he had lived so long and loved if only for a short time.

Legolas espied something in the horizon. “Gimli!” he called. The Dwarf slowly came up to his side and cocked a questioning eye at him. “Look, Gimli, ‘tis Valinor!”

“I can guess that! Know-it-all-Elf!” the Dwarf muttered.

Legolas simply smiled.

They both gazed with wonder as a vast green country opened up before them. There was Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, in the Bay of Eldamar, its white tower thrusting proudly into the sky. And there was the white sand on the long beaches and the massive mountain range of the Pelori on the easternmost shore of the continent.

“Now those are what I call mountains!” Gimli whistled admiringly.

The ship veered north towards Alqualondë, the city of the Teleri. Legolas caught sight of the great natural arch that was the gateway to the harbor. As they passed through the arch, Legolas curiously scanned the shore. There were folk awaiting the docking of the ship, some on the lamp lit quay, others further back. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed two figures in particular standing on the quay. There was no mistaking the form and bearing of Thranduil, King of the woodland realm of Mirkwood, Eryn Lasgalen of the Silvan Elves. But the other…

Gimli looked at him curiously. “What is it, my pointy-eared friend?” he queried. “I swear you have grown several shades whiter – if that’s possible for an Elf.”

“‘Tis my mother, Gimli,” Legolas replied in a hushed tone. “My mother! I have not seen her in twenty centuries!”

Gimli quickly peered over the railing of the ship and stared at the tall Elf lady by Thranduil’s side. “By Durin’s axe, so that’s where you got that face of yours!” he gruffly commented. “Never did think you looked much like your father.”

Beside Thranduil and Ithilwen stood other figures. Legolas swallowed hard at the sight of Elrond, Celebrían, Galadriel and Gandalf. How they had known that this day heralded his arrival he could not even begin to guess but he was more concerned about the news he bore. How was he going to tell them of Elrohir’s passing?

As soon as he and Gimli debarked, Thranduil and Ithilwen hurried to greet them. The Elvenking enclosed his son in a hearty embrace before giving way to his wife. For a moment, Legolas gazed upon his mother, scarcely believing that she was restored to them.

“Nana,” he murmured. Mama. And then he was in her arms and she was weeping with joy at holding him once more after so very long a separation. At his side, Legolas was dimly aware of his father welcoming Gimli.

“How did you know I was coming?” he softly asked.

Ithilwen smiled and said: “The eagles bring word to us of events in the Hither Lands. We already know of your binding to Elrohir,” she added.

Legolas stared at her in amazement. Then he realized Elrond and Celebrían had neared them and he felt his heart fill with dread.

“Legolas, where is Elrohir?” Elrond asked in puzzlement. “Did he not come with you or will he follow with Elladan?”

Legolas swallowed with difficulty. He pulled away from his mother and turned grief-stricken eyes on the former Lord and Lady of Imladris. Elrond and Celebrían stared at him in shock, reading the answer in his expression. Legolas flinched at the other Elves’ horrified gasps. For a moment, silence descended upon the group. Then Celebrían melted into her husband’s arms and buried her tearful countenance in his consoling embrace.

Elrond looked up after a moment at the prince, his own face etched with sorrow. “When?” he whispered.

“Right after Estel’s passing,” Legolas choked. “He—”

Elrond held up a hand to forestall him. “We will speak of this later,” he said softly. “I will not have your homecoming and your parents’ joy marred any further.”

Celebrían looked up and seeing Legolas’ anguish, reached out and pulled him into her arms as well. Elrond put his arms around them both. The three of them stood thus for a while, Legolas finding solace in the embrace of Elrohir’s parents and they, likewise, finding comfort in the presence of their son’s bereth.—spouse.

At length, Elrond let him go and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We must take heart,” he said firmly. “As your beloved mother was returned to you, so will our Elrohir be restored to us. We will await that day.”

“But when will that be?” Legolas asked bleakly. “How long must we endure the waiting?”

Elrond sighed and shook his head. “Only Mandos can say,” he gently said. “We can but pray that it will be soonest, the Valar willing.”

Legolas nodded in resignation then looked up as Galadriel and Gandalf approached. Beside him, Gimli’s jaw dropped open. The Dwarf still remembered how beautiful the Lady was but time had caused him to forget just how much.

Galadriel greeted them with words of welcome. Then she gazed sadly at Legolas. Though she remained quite composed, there was no mistaking the profound sorrow she felt for the loss of her younger grandson. “I grieve with you, son of Thranduil,” she said in her low melodic voice. “May the Powers bring you solace and peace.”

Legolas simply bowed his head in thanks. Galadriel turned her wondrous eyes on Gimli, which promptly caused the Dwarf to almost choke on his prepared greeting.

“There is still none more beautiful than the Lady of the Golden Wood,” he finally managed to stammer. “Middle-earth is sadly diminished without your radiance to light up its forests.”

Despite her grief, Galadriel smiled at the Dwarf’s praise. “You still have a place in my regard, Master Gimli,” she gravely replied. “Eldamar is now the richer for your presence.”

Leaving Gimli to untie his suddenly uncooperative tongue, Legolas turned to Gandalf. It seemed like only yesterday that he had last seen the venerable Istar. Yet as he beheld the eyes of his old friend he saw that they still twinkled with the humor and wit he had known so well. He tried to smile when the erstwhile wizard greeted him.

But Gandalf saw past the smile to the sadness within him. Understanding and compassion softened his crusty features.

“You bear a great burden, Legolas,” he softly remarked. “Though I see that you have not given in to despair.”

“He made me promise that I would not.” Legolas sighed. “I miss him so, Mithrandir. And today the wound hurts more than ever.” He nodded in his mother’s direction. “I am reminded once more that I will have to bear this loss for a long time. Mayhap more than I can endure.”

“Do you regret loving him so deeply then?” Gandalf said gently.

Legolas’ smile was a ghost of its former self. “Nay, given a choice, I would do it all over again,” he said but he also admitted, “I only wish that there was some way to dull the pain if only for a little while.”

Gandalf placed a comforting hand on the Elf’s shoulder. “Well, do not break your promise now, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen,” he counselled him. “It would trouble him so. Yet I do not tell you not to grieve but to hold on to hope.”

“Hope of what?” Legolas asked.

Gandalf broke into a strange smile. “Hope that happiness will be yours once more ere long. Remember, joy oft comes when you least expect it.”

Legolas gazed at the Istar in puzzlement. “In one thing you have not changed, Gandalf,” he observed with some amusement. “You still speak in riddles and verily enjoy it!” The wizard’s eyes twinkled back at him.

Thranduil and Gimli came up beside him; the King said, “You have other friends waiting to see you.”

He glanced towards the shore. There stood two small beings who might have been mistaken for boys.

Gimli gasped. “Legolas! Do my eyes deceive me? Are those Frodo and Sam?”

“Aye, my friend,” Legolas replied. “Come, let us meet them.”

Frodo and Sam ran up to them as they approached. “Legolas! Master Gimli, how are you?” Sam cried excitedly, looking as he had when they had set forth on the Quest. “What news of the Shire?”

While Gimli gave the little gardener a swift summary of the latest events in the Shire, Legolas looked down at Frodo. The hobbit no longer looked worn and wounded and his eyes held a peace that had been sorely absent in the years after he destroyed the One Ring. “We meet again, Frodo Baggins,” Legolas softly said.

“Yes, bless the Powers,” Frodo replied, beaming up at him. “And it is a great joy to see old friends after all this time.”

The rest of the party had followed them. Now Elrond addressed the Dwarf. “Master Gimli, before you accuse us of lacking in hospitality, I bid you come to my house for a feast in honor of your arrival.”

Gimli’s eyes lighted up in anticipation. “A feast?” he echoed. “And are the food and drink of my Lord Elrond’s house as good as I remember?” he grinned impertinently.

Sam shook his head. “No, Master Gimli, it isn’t as you remember.”

Gimli’s countenance drooped. “No?” he said almost mournfully.

“No,” Frodo informed him with spurious solemnity. “It’s better!”

The Dwarf’s spirits were instantly revived. “Better!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Sam affirmed with laughing eyes. “Mr. Bilbo took a hand in the preparations and you know how well he can throw a party!”

“Legolas! Did you hear that?” Gimli crowed. “Why are we dawdling here? Let us go at once!”

Legolas had to chuckle at his friend’s eagerness. His heart lightened if only for the moment. More than ever he was glad the Dwarf had come with him. He blessed Elrohir for getting Gimli to make that promise to take care of him.

They climbed the crystal stairs that ascended Túna in the Calacirya and came unto the city that crowned the hill. Elrond and Celebrían dwelt among their Noldorin kin. But in memory of Imladris they had chosen to live outside of the city of Tirion, by the western slopes of the Pelori, their home in a cleft in the mountainside surrounded by lush, fragrant groves reminiscent of the woods of the hidden vale. Nearby, tumbling waterfalls recalled the cascades of Rivendell.

Unlike Galadriel or Thranduil, Elrond had not sought a realm of his own in Valinor. After all, though he had had its lordship, Imladris had been founded as a refuge rather than a kingdom. But the Elves he had ruled wisely for two ages refused to leave him and dwelt so near to his halls that they had eventually formed a community so close-knit as to be considered apart from the rest of Tirion. Even such prominent Elves as Glorfindel and Erestor remained in his service, acknowledging the lordship of none but Elrond’s. Here, too, had the hobbits settled, their cozy home as much like Bag End in Hobbiton as the Elves could make it.

In a short span of time, the Rivendell Elves came to be recognized as a people separate from the Noldor, with Elrond and Celebrían as their chosen lord and lady. Even Finarfin, who ruled the Noldor, respected the Imladrins’ independence and deferred to Elrond in all matters that concerned his people. Within a few more years, Artirion, as the community came to be known, became a realm unto its own.

Elrond and Celebrían’s spacious halls were very much like the Last Homely House and a quick look around told Legolas and Gimli that even in Eldamar, Elrond’s reputation as a loremaster and healer held fast. Legolas had to smile at the treasure trove of tomes and scrolls and bottled herbs and oils that peeked from shelves, cabinets and cupboards. Different from Elrond’s halls in Imladris yet also the same.

For the present, all set aside their sorrow and basked in the warmth and affection of each other’s company. As promised, the food and wine was everything Gimli could have wished for and more. He and the hobbits were practically competing to see who could consume the most halfway through the meal.

Finally, Thranduil regretfully announced that he and his family had to go. They took their leave of Elrond and Celebrían. Gimli, too, said his goodbyes though it was understood that he would return after visiting with Legolas’ family. The Dwarf had decided he would live in Artirion with the hobbits, disliking the idea of dwelling permanently in any woodland domain.

Several woodland warriors awaited them in the courtyard, as did three beautiful Elven steeds. As always, Gimli was hoisted up behind the prince, muttering predictably about how horses and Dwarves did not mix and questioning why he let Legolas talk him into riding when getting around on one’s own two feet was much safer.

He did fall silent, however, as they began the descent down a wide pass on the western face of Túna which then turned south. As they rounded a shoulder of the mountainside, a vast forest spread out before them. Legolas gasped in delight while Gimli’s jaw dropped open in amazement.

His mother smiled at their awed expressions. “Behold Taur Galen, ion nîn”—my son—Ithilwen said.

Legolas started, stared at her, then at his father. “But that is just another rendering of Greenwood!” he exclaimed.

Thranduil beamed. “Aye, and ‘tis also the realm now of our folk,” he explained. “’Twas given us upon our arrival in Valinor. The Powers understood that Wood-elves cannot do without the forests anymore than they can stop breathing.”

“And are you still their king, Ada?”—Papa—Legolas queried.

“They would have no other,” Ithilwen interjected, her pride in her husband resonating in her voice. “Not even Olwë who is lord of the Teleri and your father’s kinsman.”

Thranduil smiled indulgently at his wife before winking in a most unkingly fashion at Legolas and Gimli.

“And what of the Galadhrim?” Gimli inquired, understandably interested in the welfare of the Lady Galadriel’s folk. He had been too diffident to long engage the Lady in conversation during dinner.

“Their realm is but a few miles from ours, in Maltaurë,” Thranduil smiled. At his son’s double take, his smile broadened. “It seems that mellyrn do grow in Valinor as well.”

*********

They followed an elven track very similar to the old one in Mirkwood. But this path was wider and more straightforward; there was no need for deception or concealment in Aman.

Taur Galen’s trees were also not as closely packed as Greenwood’s. The forest was light and airy and sunlight and moonlight easily penetrated its canopy.

Legolas breathed in the sweet air and felt his spirits lift a little higher. At the very least, his heart would be soothed by these friendly trees if not completely healed. That would only come with the return of that part of it that had been wrenched from him so cruelly.

To his surprise, they soon came upon the first bow houses of his father’s people. The Woodland Realm lay but a mere two hours from the eastern borders of the forest. In all, the whole trip had taken little more than three hours from start to finish. It meant that travel between Artirion and Taur Galen could be accomplished not only in a short time but on the spur of the moment if so desired. A far cry from the needed-to-be-prepared-way-in-advance, weeks-long journey over the Misty Mountains between Rivendell and Greenwood. The thought comforted Legolas. The proximity to Artirion and his friends would make frequent visits possible and that cheered him immeasurably.

He delighted in his parents’ tales concerning the forest, listened avidly as they introduced him and Gimli to the unfamiliar growth that mingled with beech, elm and oak. Legolas wondered if Maltaurë would prove as enthralling as the Golden Wood. But then, this was the Blessed Realm. No doubt the enchantment would be threefold if Taur Galen was any indication of Valinor’s wonders.

They passed under a beauteous tree-roofed corridor and came into a vast clearing. Elf-prince and Dwarf-lord gasped.

Instead of Mirkwood’s delved palace, here was a soaring structure wrought out of the very trees themselves. The main hall of Thranduil’s woodland palace was breathtaking to say the least.

“Welcome home, my son,” the Elvenking said quietly as he led them across a wooden bridge over a bubbling stream onto a wide cobbled courtyard.

Elves packed the open space in joyful welcome of their prince. Legolas blinked away the sudden moisture that blurred his sight. He could not help being deeply moved by their regard. And their tacit sympathy. It was apparent word of his loss had reached the kingdom ahead of their arrival. That they mourned Elrohir was obvious in the compassionate gazes they cast upon the prince. That nearly undid Legolas.

They loved him, he thought. He was as much their prince as I am.

His sorrow was momentarily forgotten, however, when they entered the great hall. Even here the forest was welcome. Great trees served as pillars, their massive trunks reaching heavenwards into the high vaulted ceiling of the building.

They came out into a vast space behind the palace wherein a merry fountain danced. Beyond was a building that recalled to him the residential pavilion of the Woodland Realm in Greenwood. But to his surprise, after his parents showed Gimli to his chambers, they led him away down yet another path into a secluded grove a short distance from the pavilion.

He gaped when he saw the house. A two-level structure whose one side had been built around the trunk of a massive oak. An exact copy of his home in Eryn Gael. He stared at his parents in shock.

“Elrohir gave me detailed illustrations of your halls in Ithilien ere I sailed,” Thranduil softly told him.

Tears stung the archer’s eyes then. Wordlessly, he hurried into the house and looked about in wonder. It was as if he were back in Ithilien. Every piece of furniture and adornment had been duplicated and arranged just as they had been in his home in the Glimmering Wood. He swallowed hard when he saw the staircase leading up to the next floor. Shyly looking at his parents and receiving encouraging smiles from them, he ascended.

Elation took away his ever-present sadness for the moment. He could not help smiling widely as he inspected the upper-floor rooms – the guest chambers, the study. Even the small open alcove with its sole divan where he and Elrohir had sometimes spent a night’s loving under the stars was there.

But the ache returned when he walked into his bedchamber. It was the one thing that had been altered somewhat. More spacious than his room in Ithilien, it had been enlarged for the use of a couple. At first, Legolas could scarcely bring himself to even go near the wide bed meant for two or look at the tub in the adjoining bathing chamber large enough for his and Elrohir’s well-known antics.

But the belief that he would eventually share these beautiful quarters with the Elf-knight heartened him anew. And he comforted himself with the knowledge that the younger twin would love their home, fond as he was of the pleasures of such sumptuous accommodations. These thoughts in mind, he finally found the wherewithal to appreciate and consider a haven the sanctuary his parents had so lovingly prepared. He was smiling again when he rejoined them shortly and they went back to fetch Gimli for a more thorough exploration of his new home.

His prayer that first night in the Undying Lands was simple but fervent. Standing on his balcony overlooking the gardens, he pleaded with all his heart that the Valar would hearken to his plight and restore his heart’s desire, his soul’s chosen one soonest.

**********************

Glossary:

Nárië - Quenya for June

mellyrn - plural of mallorn

To be continued…
- 9
- 10
- 11
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

Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight