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For the Love of Nightingale	By : Yih Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 1337 -:- 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
- 1-For the Love of Nightingale
- 2-The Art of a Master
- 1
- 2
FOR THE LOVE OF NIGHTINGALE

a Pre-LotR story
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Unbeta�d so all mistakes are my own.

Pre-Reader: Tingilye, the brilliant fanfic writer of Sarlisse ^_^.
Check it out, it�s wonderful!

Note: Check out the new updated Foreword as there has been some changes
since my reviewers have been very helpful in that. Thanks btw!

Chapter 1: The Art of a Master
The Year 2641 of the Third Age.
HIS hands caressed the smooth silky finish of his intricately carved bow.
Whoever had made this was truly gifted with bow-making. Legolas had had many
bows before but none that quite fit him like this one had. It was like this
bow had been made for him by someone that knew him intimately. But who was
the maker? For he swore he did not know any elf in Mirkwood that had the talent
to make a bow such as this.
It was not merely a weapon; it was a creation of artistry. And he was determined
to meet this bow-maker, not only to commission another bow from the master but
also to beg for a custom-made bow. While it was true that he did not have a
bow that could rival this, if the master would make him a bow that was specially
made for him--- then he would truly have a bow that would make him the greatest
archer the forest had ever seen.
Morion, his tutor in arms and combat, knew who the master bow-maker was but
he refused to tell him the name. Instead, he had tempted him to come early
in the morning to watch him and the master bow-maker parry with swords. Given
no choice, Legolas had come as requested at the break of dawn. Why his teacher
had refused to tell him the name, he did not know.
Breaking through the thick foliage that shrouded the practice arena that Morion
favored in training his students, Legolas lithely made his way to where he began
to hear the clanging noise of swords clashing together. As he moved closer,
he could hear the sweet music of swords slicing through the air. When he finally
drew into the range where he could witness the swordplay, he had to marvel at
the skill of the two elves.
The way they exchanged blows and blocks was poetry. When Morion would deliver
a punishing blow that Legolas was sure would disarm the master bow-maker, the
rival would either lightly sidestep or lift the sword in hand to block. From
the speed of which the two combatants moved, Legolas was unable to get a clear
image of what the master bow-maker looked like. All he could tell was that
the bow-maker had to be a relative of some sort to Morion because of the dark
hair, but that was impossible� Morion was the last of his line.
There were not that many dark-headed elves, and most were related some way
or another to L�thien�s family. The master bow-maker had to descend from that
line. Interesting, he had never known any skilled weaponsmith to come from
that line of elves. While it was not unheard of for an elf to take up a different
skill than its bloodline usually suggested, it was quite rare. Most of the
odd gifts that popped up in the line unexpectedly had been in the bloodline
at random times, never out of nowhere.
As skilled as the bow artisan was, Morion was far superior in strength and
skill. But the balance between them was maintained because his rival had a
lightness of step that Legolas had never quite seen to this degree. However,
it was only a matter of time before Morion would have the other at his mercy.
It was nothing to be ashamed of, Legolas could barely hold his own against Morion,
despite having been trained since he was strong enough to wield a weapon the
art of warfare.
It was different with the way Morion had been taught the arms of war. It did
not hurt that Morion had learned his skills underneath Vorondil Ostovarno, that
line of elves were known for their warriors even as Morion�s line was more known
for its healers. As strange as it was for Morion to be a warrior instead of
a healer, he had been raised and trained for the past two thousand years by
Vorondil.
Legolas was drawn from his thoughts when with a swift movementrionrion�s blade
rested against the other elf�s throat. �I best you once again, cousin,�
Morion declared. He normally would let their sparring continue, but he had
heard the Prince�s arrival and did not wish to delay the meeting between Legolas
and his cousin. �You spend far too much time at carving in your flit or casting
a sword in the forge when you ought to spend some time working on your swordsmanship.�
�No matter what I do,� came the soft reply, �you know I will never best you
in arms.�
Morion smirked and slide his sword back into the scabbard belted to his side
and gestured for his morning partner to glance in the direction of their audience.
�You never know, one day--- perhaps,� he murmured. �But come now, I must introduce
you to an avid admirer of the bows you make.�
�Indeed,� Legolas remarked from wherestoostood almost shrouded in foliage,
�I am much an admirer of your bow-making skills.�
He inclined his head, his eyes meeting eyes that were as brilliantly green
as his were blue. The face that held those emerald orbs was quite beautiful,
nothing compared to Arwen Undl bul but still beautiful nonetheless. Strangely,
despite the masculine garb and braids--- he did not think the elf standing before
him was male.
There was a distinct feminine quality. Maybe it was in the soft lines of the
pretty face, which was no where near as beautiful as the Evenstar or his teac

L�rawen. Yes, L�rawen, that was who this elf reminded him of. That was why
he did not think the elf could be male--- not when there was quite a bit of
similarity between the elf and his teacher. The facial structure were similar,
though the elf before him was paler and less vibrantly confident as L�rawen
was. L�rawen was the only elf that held a shadow of his mother�s beauty in
Mirkwood.
�I am Legolas,� he introduced himself, �and I�m pleased to meet the acquaintance
of such a talented master.�
There was silence and confusion that marred the exquisite beauty of the bright
green eyes. Had he said something amiss? He did not think so, but there was
a chance he could have. There waill ill so much that he did not know, still
so much that he had to learn. At least that was what his old mentor, L�rawen
kept reminding. L�rawen was not the only one, Legolas thought with an inner
grimace, his father was quite adamant as well.
�I apologize,� Morion spoke slowly and clearly as his cousin�s eyes fixated
on his lips. �I forgot to inform you that my cousin cannot hear the spoken
words. Allow me to introduce you to Eleniel L�melind�, the daughter of L�rawen
Morelen. You must speak slowly and be sure to not move your lips too rapidly
as she reads lips. However, there is no need to exaggerate your lip movement.
Talk normally, but with less speed.�
�Whom is this?� Eleniel inquired, her voice soft and a bit strange but pleasing
in sound. The nuances were that of a voice that was unused to be spoken often
and a bit too formal in pronunciation, but sweet nevertheless. �Morion?�
�Would you like to introduce yourself again?� Morion asked. �Or would you
rather me�?�
�I will do it,� Legolas answered abruptly. Morion smiled, not the least bit
upset that the Prince had interrupted him. Instead, his hand gently touched
Eleniel�s cheek and moved her face to where she could see Legolas�s lips easily.
�I am Legolas,� he enunciated clearly, �and I thank you for making this bow
for me.� His fingers lightly traced the detailed carvings. �You are very gifted
and I am pleased to make the acquaintance of a master.�
She nodded serenely. �It was an honor to maker bor bow for you, Prince Legolas.�
�It was an honor for me to receive such a bow,� he insisted. �I came here,
not only to meet a master but also to�� her eyes shifted for a moment to his
eyes before sliding back down to his lips, �ask if you might custom make me
another bow when you have the time?�
�When would you like it?�
�When do you have time?�
A small smile graced her lips, making her not seem quite as pale and sallow
as she had been but a moment before. �I always have time, Prince Legolas.
The question is when do you have time?�
He nodded, thinking about when he had a free moment in his hectic royal schedule.
Tomorrow morning, he did not really have anything that was going on. He did
not know how long it would take her to make his bow, but he knew it was going
to take a goodly amount of time. He would like to have the bow ready before
he went to Imladris to continue to further his mastery of archery from the brilliant
Glorfindel. �Tomorrow morning, then?�
�Tomorrow morning,� she agreed. �At dawn?�
�At dawn,� he echoed.
She tilted her head respectfully and with a swift silence left him and his
mentor there alone. It was not until she was out of sight that Legolas realized
that he had been staring after where she had disappeared to until Morion remarked,
�Was it a surprise?�
Legolas knew what he was asking--- was it a shock to realize that she was deaf.
�Unusual,� he commented, �more than surprising. I have n met met an elf with
a physical impairment.�
�She was not born that way,� Morion stated. �There was an accident when she
was very young. She does not even recall a time when she could hear sounds.
In a way it is good,� he murmured, �because she has no sense of loss.�
That made sense. �I did not know she was L�rawen�s daughter.�
�L�rawen has hardly been a mother to her,� he responded flatly.
�She is a good teacher,� Legolas protested, �and a great healer.�
�She did not heal her daughter. She could not.� Morion sighed with weariness.
�I think that is why she left Elen here. She could not bear to be reminded
of her failure. Even when Elen was sent back to the Citadel---�
�She was sent back?�
Morion nodded his head and confirmed, �Yes, about three hundred years ago she
lived in the Citadel with L�rawen.�
�Then� why is it that I never saw her?�
�She never went to the Halls, instead she lived in seclusion on L�rawen�s private
grounds,� he answered. �I think her mother is ashamed of her daughter because
Elen lacks the gift of healing. You know the bloodline gifts pass more strongly
mother to daughter and father to son than from either father to daughter or
mother to son. You have your father�s gift of leadership and courage. In Elen�s
case, it was different. She inherited almost everything of who she is from
Vorondil.�
�She is a skilled with the sword.�
�Yes, she is. She is far better forging weaponry than wielding them,� Morion
admitted. �I do not know what I would do on the frontlines without her gift.
You have felt the balance and perfection of what she makes. To have a weapon
that is more than a thing to defeat the enemy, that is an extension of your
own body gives hope and assurance� a confidence.�
Yes, Legolertaertainly understood the added confidence. There was something
that felt right when holding a weapon that did not seem like a burden to have
in hand but instead like an extension of being. �It is like she understands
what is needed. Something that is light yet strong, sleek yet sharp.�
�She should. She is not only a talented weaponsmith, but also an adequate
warrior despite her deafness. Unlike most weaponsmith, she intimately understands
the usage of each weapon she makes. She will not forge a weapon she has no
experience with.�
>�I >�I did not know that.�
�There is much you do not know of her,� Morion declared with a smile. �But
you will learn more of her the more time you spend at the outer defenses. You
are setting some time aside to ride with the Guardians, are you not?�
�Indeed, I am before I leave for Imladris,� Legolas responded, grinning. �The
more time I spend, the more likely I can get that bow from her.�
�You will not have a problem getting your bow, Legolas. All you have to do
is ask.� At Legolas�s inquiring look, Morion went ahead and explained, �Elen
will make a weapon for anyone that she deems worthy, and she has already deemed
you worthy.�
�How?� Legolas queried.
Morion chuckled lightly. �You did best both Elladan and Elrohir Peredhil of
Imladris in a very public archery contest. Like most Mirkwood elves, she was
in attendance that afternoon. You duly impressed her.�
Carefully considering his mentor�s words, Legolas had to ask, �Your cousin,
Eleniel, must be a good archer, then?�
�She is decent.�
�I know what decent means to you,� he commented with dryness. �You do have
the propensity for understating talent.�
�The bow is not her best weapon,� Morion clarified. �She wields the twin elven
knifes with the most skill. I believe it is because they are lighter and if
you did not notice from our session this morn, her greatest advantage as a fighter
is her remarkable speed.�
�She moves like the wind.�
�She falters though in attacking,� he whispered. �She is very good at defense,
but the offense is her weakness. She does not like to hurt others. It is the
healer blood in her that is mixed with the warrior in her. She has always wanted
to fight, but she cannot hurt. It is that with her physical handicap that makes
it impossible for her to take up her birthright.�
�As L�rawen�s daughter?�
�And as Vorondil�s daughter.�

IT was only midday when Legolas arrived back at tallsalls of the Citadel where
he found his teacher, L�rawen, waiting for him. She, as always, was a vision
of beauty clothed in a pale cream gown that highlighted her dark looks. It
was hard to understand Morion�s bitter words about his Aunt, for L�rawen had
been like a second mother to him after his own mother had taken a ship to Valinor.
�Good morning,� she greeted him. �I trust your request with my nephew, Morion
went well?�
He nodded. �It went well. But I� did not know that you had a daughter that
was such a talented bow-maker.�
�She stays mostly with her father and now with Morion.�
�I heard that she lived with you for a time around three hundred years ago.�
�She preferred to stay in my private gardens,� L�rawen responded. �She kept
herself busy. I believe got got Vanwem�r� to teach her how to set jewels into
her weapons. Vanwem�r� has told me that Elen even started to learn the jewel-smith
craft. I do not know if she pursued it.�
�Vanwem�r� is quite the jewel-smith.�
�She did reside with Celebrimbor�s people in the Second Age to learn the craft.�
�And she does not teach anyone,� he pointed out. �Your daughter must be gifted.�
L�rawen inclined her head. �Perhaps,� she murmured, her hand motioning to
the desk that she had set up for him in the center of the room with several
thick tomes on it. �There is much to do in preparations if you wish to depart
for a few months to Imladris. I will not allow you to get behind, Legolas.�
�I understand, L�rawen.�
�Those are the new texts that you should endeavor to read before hurrying off
to Glorfindel.� Legolas�s eyes strayed to the quite tall stack. A few thousand
pages he surmised. It was a blessing elves did not require much sleep. His
nights would certainly be busy. �Now how are the readings on the history of
Doriath coming along?�
�I am nearly done.�
�Hopefully you will finish soon,� she stated, �but untiln, cn, close your eyes
Legolas and breath deeply.� He did what she said, knowing that meditation was
a good release from tension and stress. �Have you had any dreams lately?�
�No, I have not been sleeping much.�
�Been busy with your readings?�

�Yes.�
�Slow steady breaths,� she reminded him. �Reading what?�
�Of Doriath and the Rings of Power.�
�The Elven Rings of Power?�
�Yes,� he answered. �Narya, Nenya, and Vilya.�
Tediteditation was a method for her to quiz him in a relaxed statl thl the
knowledge that he needed to know as a royal elf about Arda. Sometimes, they
delved into personal aspects of life at the Mirkwood Halls, but more often than
naught the questions moved onward to theories about historical events of the
past--- and how they might have been done differently for a better result.
It stimulated his mind and hers.
�Why did you leavur dur daughter?� Legolas asked. While it was not unusual
for him to ask her a question, it was strange of him to inquire something directly
aimed at her. �Why did you not take her with you to the Halls when you came?�
�Because,� L�rawen responded softly, �she is her father�s daughter.�

THE fire was roaring in the hearth as Eleniel removed a small bejeweled dagger
that she was working on for one of the Guardians. It was a beautiful piece,
not terribly ornate but more decorated than her weapons had been before she
had come under the instruction of Vanwem�r�. Morion carefully rested his hand
on her shoulder and tightened his grip as she jerked in surprise. It was hard
to get her attention without startling as her eyes were focused intently on
her work.
When she relaxed, realizing who it was, Morion shifted her around until they
were standing face to face and she could see his lips clearly. He also took
her free hand and rested it against his throat in case the dim light made it
hard for her to see his lip movement. Feeling how long the syllables of his
words were gave her a better clue on what he was saying to her. He waited until
she pinched him to say that she was ready to listen to him.
�You did well this morning.�
She smile�You�You are still the best swords-elf.�
�You are a fine warrior for an elf maiden, when maidens are suppose to sit
in their flits and be pretty ladies,� Morion teased. �Then again, you never
quite do what is expected for a proper elf maiden, do you, Elen? At least jewel-making
is not something you are making the standard for.�
�Keep protesting,� she murmured, �and you will not get your new sword anytime
soon.�
�That is cruel, Elen.�
�Well, I do have a request to make a custom bow from the Prince of Mirkwood.�
His hands went down and rested on her stomach. Her eyes left his lips down
to where his hands were so she missed when he said, �But my request was first,
you impetuous elf!�
She knew what was coming and she was trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but
she had no success and soon her laughter was ringing through the air as he tickled
her without mercy. Even though he knew she could not hear him, it felt right
to exclaim, �I will have my sword before that Prince of Mirkwood!�
It was not long before they were rolling around on the ground gasping for air.
When Eleniel was too tired to try to struggle anymore, Morion hugged her tightly
and pressed a kiss on her forehead. He pulled back and waited until her eyes
were staring at his lips before he said, �Will you join me this afternoon to
train the novice Guardians?�
�In what?� she questioned.
�In the art of the elven twin knives, of course.�
�You have been known to manipulate me into teaching archery.�
He shrugged. �You have more patience than I do.�
She pinched his arm. �You have patience when you care to have it.�
�Only with you.�
�Not only with me,� she protested, pushing him off of her, �you have it with
others too. It is just the bow is not your weapon of choice. You are much
fonder of the sword, are you not? That is mostly why.�
�True,� he granted, chuckling. �You know me too well.�
�As you know me.�
�I will see you at noon break.�
�I will be waiting, cousin,� she promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek. �Good-bye.�

Author�s Note: If you like this, you�ll probably like my other major
LotR work� �In Times Like These� which is about a mute elf called Anaire.
The pairing is somewhat different, Ha x O x OC rather than the typical Legolas
x OC. While this story is a romance, it�s not the typical oh Legolas is so
bloody gorgeous, elf maiden falling head over heels OR Legolas go ga-ga over
a spectacularly beautiful maiden either. Obviously, Eleniel�s pretty (all elves
seem to be pretty darn attractive) but she�s not that unusual except for her
dark looks and her vivid green eyes. If she stood in the presence of her mother,
she�d maybe merit a glance. If she stood in the presence of Arwen Und�miel,
d bed be an unnoticed shadow. Pretty is as pretty does.
Thanks to Cr@z3yM0nk3y, Jen Littlebottom (thanks for the corrections),
sweetazzhoney, AzureDragoness, Iluvien (faithful reader, I <3 you),
Marpessa (realized, corrected).
Contact me: (AIM) sevviepooh or (MSN) wan_mei_zhu_yi @ hotmail.com

Review it if you like it and you might see more of it. (Basically, I�ll be
writing on demand. If people like it, I�ll write more if not I won�t. Ain�t
that clear? And I heavily appreciate reviews that tell me what they like and
what they don�t like so I can try to be a better writer, not only for you but
for myself too.)
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For the Love of Nightingale