Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Legolas and the Balrog	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6325 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Legolas and the Balrog
A Little Legolas story

By erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK
www.feud.shadowess.com

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The settings and most characters were created by JRR Tolkien. Only the words and other characters surrounding them here belong to erobey.

V. Not Last Night but the Night Before

Thranduil set the child down on his feet in front of the three Noldor visitors, his long elegant hands firmly upon the elfling's shoulders. The child tilted back his head and the King looked down and the two shared identical smiles of melancholy pride, comparable to the expression the Imladrians had noted earlier on the Sinda ruler's visage.

It made them unaccountably distressed and they checked each other's eyes, confirming all were similarly overwhelmed. A quick glance at the eldest prince revealed dark indigo orbs shining with liquid love and pain for his brother and father.

The King's hands slid off, one to pat the golden head, the other to give an encouraging shove on the princeling's rear end, scooting him a step closer to the waiting visitors.

A brilliant smile of startling beauty and warmth spread across the child's serene countenance as he took another little hop forward on his own. Legolas' hands came up before his chest, palms pressed together, and he made a deep and solemn bow. As he came upright, the hands dipped down and opened to form a cup that he extended forward as his arms straightened.

"Suilad o Noss Tawar! Galu uin Eringalen bo le pân." (Greetings from the House of Tawar! The Blessings of the Greenwood upon you all.) The hands tipped over and separated, limbs sweeping wide as though to envelope all of the forest, gathering within their reach every good thing of Yavanna's design, compelling the entirety of the Realm's benevolence to engulf the guests. "Legolas, hîl o Cúroniel, Tawarwaith, Tirn-en-Tawar, le esta nothrim Tawar a gwedeiren od uir. Le tellin bar." (Legolas, heir of Cúroniel, the Tawarwaith, the Watcher in the Great Wood, names you kindred of the House of Tawar and my brothers for eternity. You have come home.)

Erestor was speechless upon receiving this welcome from the King's youngest son and had absolutely no doubt that a powerfully protective benediction had indeed just been spilled over them. He had been prepared to be charmed by the precocious little prince's cute mimicry of diplomacy and courtly conduct, but instead found himself awed, stunned by a sense of being near to something exquisitely unique, indomitable and hallowed. He dropped to one knee in front of the child and extended a hand, gazing into the clear steady cornflower blue eyes to view a soul unguarded, staggered by the combination of kindness and sadness, innocence and wisdom revealed.

"Legolas, Ernil-en-Eringalen, le hannam an lín ant fael o gwend ar galu haill. Mae govannen, gwador!" (Legolas, Prince of the Greenwood, we thank you for your generous gift of friendship and exalted blessings. Well-met, kinsman!), the noble statesman said as the elfling placed small, delicate fingers upon his palm.

{Slender, sticky fingers. Slender, sticky, fuzzy fingers!} Elrond's advisor realised the little one's thumb-sucking hand, well covered with the hunting dog's shedding hair, was the one in his grip. The sensation of fur-coated, saliva-gummed digits pressed against his skin shattered the ethereal quality of the scene. With a half-grin, half-grimace he relinquished his grasp and stood tall again.

"You offer me a high honour, young prince!" exclaimed Toloth as he moved forward and bowed low, hand over heart. "It is doubly great, for I knew your Miny'Adar (Grandfather) and fought beside him long ago."

"As for me, I am quite pleased to be your kinsman," Cugu put in his thoughts, reaching out to the elfling. When Legolas stretched his hand up to meet the Noldo's, the warrior instead gripped the child's forearm and helped him do the same, a traditional gesture of comradeship among fighters. "For all my relatives have gone West and I am not ready to join them. It will be good to be part of a family again."

"Hannad, Cugu Beren," (Brave Dove) Legolas giggled, transferring his attention to the King to be sure he had noticed the warrior's salutation.

Thranduil was absolutely bursting with paternal pride and love as he gazed down on the elfling, who looked back with adoring expectation. The King's hands returned to the elfling's shoulders and squeezed.

"Well done, Legolas, Nana would be very happy!" he said. "You have honoured Greenwood by greeting our visitors splendidly, so much better than your older siblings! I am thoroughly pleased and impressed!"

"As am I, Tiuw! (Sprout)," added Sîrgell as he reached out and patted his baby brother's head affectionately.

"Hannad, Ada, Sîr! Does that mean I am forgiven for misleading Eirien and leaving my rooms?" the child asked and slipped the spittle-covered thumb back between his lips.

This hopeful entreaty raised a round of smiling chuckles among the grown-ups and a shake of Thranduil's head. He reached down and hefted the elfling high; settling Legolas easily onto his right shoulder in a move that bespoke veritable centuries of practise with his numerous children.

"Oh, from me you have nothing to fear. Eirien, however, does not like to be fooled. You will have to tell her and take your punishment, Legolas. If something had happened to you, I would hold her accountable. She takes that very seriously."

"Aye, and she loves you besides," added Sîrgell. "You should have thought about the consequences before you sneaked out."

The four veterans of the Last Alliance could not help but turn incredulous expressions upon Necklace Male, hapless leader of the aboriginal Avari, for such chastening, and the youth shrugged sheepishly and cleared his throat. Before Thranduil could utter any correction to his son, a single, deep, short 'woof!' that died away into a grumbling growl of disapproval issued from the great hound's throat. The dog was still in the same spot by the cavern archway, her shaggy grey head attentively turned toward the oldest prince. She rose and hobbled over to the King's side, her long tail making a slow sweep back and forth through the air as her wise appraising black eyes stared accusingly at Sîrgell.

The hounds of the Woodland Realm were all the colour of shadows cast by moonlight, subtle grey-shaded silver, and stood at least a metre and a half from ground to shoulders on long strong legs. The canines were easily the size of wargs but refined in line and conformation. Their keen senses of smell and hearing rivalled their elven masters, and they would run days on end in pursuit of their quarry. Their coats were medium in length and wiry, forming brushy whiskers at the muzzle and feathers at their fetlocks. The ears were short and folded over in half, perched above dark eyes displaying loyalty and intelligence within their depths. These were chasers, bred for hunting dire wolves in Ages past but now employed as indispensable components of the King's forces.

This one was typical of the breed except that she had only three legs. It was not too difficult for the Imladrians to imagine what had happened to her left back limb, considering the battle they had participated in earlier.

"All right, I am hardly one to speak up about foresight and prudent consideration before acting," Sîrgell laughed and bent to pat the dog's head contritely, tugging off the ridiculous necklace as he did so. "I will intercede with Eirien on the Tawarwaith's behalf, Dae Dínen (Silent Shadow)."

"Hannad, Sîr!" called the little one and then he leaned down toward the hound and whispered, "Hannad, Dae!"

More light laughter followed this as the hound gave her young master a joyous bark and opened her jaws in a contented grin of teeth blanketed with a lolling red tongue.

"Well that is a fine companion you have there, Prince Legolas," remarked Toloth as he bent and called to the dog to come get acquainted. She ambled over and licked his proffered hand speculatively, another sonorous vocalisation signalling her endorsement of the stranger. "But she is not very silent!"

"She is greeting guests, Toloth," admonished Cugu and joined his mate in patting the hound's noble head, scratching behind her ears. This met with Dae Dínen's approval and she sighed happily.

"Dae likes you," Legolas confided to the warriors as he appraised them with interest. "How come Sîr let you three play and not me?" His tone was just a bit petulant as he shot his oldest brother a hurt look.

"Legolas, our guests were not playing," said Thranduil. "Sîr and the others were misleading them. That is why they have been disciplined and have extra chores to complete."

"But they are dressed up like Avari, too!" Legolas argued, pointing at the Noldor's state of dishabille. "Are you going to give them a punishment?"

Sîrgell snickered at that and then caught his father's glare and stifled his amusement quickly.

"Nay, little prince," answered Cugu. "We were caught in the rain and our garments are soaked through. That is why we took some off."

"Why were you out in the rain?"

"We had to travel on horse to get here, Legolas," replied Erestor. "It is a long way to Lothlorien and even further to Imladris."

"Aye, and for the last five days and nights rain has positively poured from menel!" asserted Toloth.

"And you got dirty in the hunt? Did you kill many Orcs? I am going to kill every Orc in my forest when I grow up."

"I hope there will not be any left to dispose of when you reach maturity, Legolas," said Cugu with feeling.

"We killed all we could reach, Ernil-ben (little Prince), and do not mind that sort of grime," added Toloth emphatically.

"Speaking of which, I am sure you would all appreciate the opportunity to bathe and don clean, dry clothing," the King intervened before his youngest could start up again, for once the questions began he knew they would not wind down for several minutes. "Sîrgell, please attend the visitors."

"Yes, Hîren Adar."

"Lord Erestor, Masters Cugu and Toloth, please be at home! If there is anything you require, Sîrgell will see it provided. He will escort you to the feast later this eve. Now, I must smuggle this elfling back into his bed before his nanny finds out he is missing and raises the alarm," Thranduil stated and turned to go.

"Oh, Ada! I want to go to the feast, too!" the young one exclaimed as they walked beneath the open arches.

"Nay, you have had enough excitement, Legolas, and you require rest now."

"Ai! Ada, I am not sleepy at all. Please may I join the feast? I am a big elf, not a baby any more."

"Nay, you have not slept one bit this night and I know you did not rest after the noon meal. Now you must catch up on all the repose missed."

"I will sleep some now and then wake up and go to the feast. May I do that, Ada?"

"Legolas, you are going to sleep through the night this time. There will be many more feasts."

The Noldor and the Sinda prince watched the pair retreat inside the stronghold, smiling at the mild argument as the elfling tried to cajole his father into relenting. Erestor laughed and shook his head, remembering when Arwen would try those pleading tones with Elrond, wondering if this young one would get his way. The seneschal had so many questions he knew not where to start, and as he was pondering this Toloth took the initiative and expressed that which was foremost upon their minds.

"How long has it been that your little brother's Naneth died?"

"Only two years. In fact this is the anniversary of that dread day and thus was the hunt called forth. Legolas suffers greatly. Rarely does he rest well, for through the waking time he tries to be brave and uphold the dignity of the House he now leads, as soon as reverie claims him he wakes in tears and despair. He could not understand where she had gone or why she would desert him."

"Ai, what a sad fate! Of course he has never seen death and thinks she left him," Cugu was aggrieved to think the golden elfling had been subjected to such misery. "How old is the young one? He seems no more than five."

"He is," confirmed the prince. "Unfortunately that is exactly the case. He knows Cúroniel was amongst the patrols near the Northern Borders, bestowing the grace of Tawar upon the warriors, even as she would do every other cycle of Ithil," replied Sîrgell sadly. "It was a special day, for it was anniversary of Menelfân's promotion to captaincy. This does nothing to dispel the belief that he displeased her somehow and she has gone from him. Híren Adar could not bear to take the little one to see her body, though the healers advised it was necessary, and Legolas could not comprehend that the funeral was for his Naneth as well as the fallen warriors."

"What happened, then, if she was among the King's soldiers?" Toloth inquired.

"Toloth!" exclaimed Erestor in shamed remonstrance, for these words sounded like an accusation to his ears and he feared to offend Thranduil's heir. "Mind how you speak!"

The worthy veteran dropped his head in remorse and murmured a plea for forgiveness, but Sîrgell set him at ease.

"Nay, no insult was meant nor heard, mellon. It is true, what you imply, and something many have questioned. Usually the northern borders are quiet and trouble seeks us from the south or east. My Adar has surmised that the foul creatures originated in the Misty Mountains, travelling through some underground caves or by mountain passes of which we know not.

"In any case, the survivors declared that the attack came from the river and the Orcs seemed cognisant of the Tawarwaith's presence in the region. She was their target, as it turned out. Our scouts and watches gave warning, but the size of the enemy's forces was too great to repel and they were moving as quickly as our soldiers, thanks to the boats and their strong rowers.

"Little by little, the warriors worked their way toward the stronghold, desperately trying to shield Cúroniel from harm. But she was bold as any Tawarwaith before her and young among our people. Sometimes the combination of such elements yields tragic results. She took the bow of a fallen cousin and climbed into the trees, shooting down the vile servants of Darkness.

"Alas, then the remaining warriors had to rally round her, for they could not disobey her orders! There were too many demons and even had they been fewer, still were our troops doomed that day, for the Orcs were captained by one of the dread Wraiths. It was that hideous remnant of Numenor that stole Cúroniel from us. A long lance he held, and the Tawarwaith's attention was fixed on the Orcs surrounding the trees. She fell, pierced through the heart, into their filthy claws.

"But for Menelfân's impulsive action, her body would no doubt have been mutilated disgracefully. He darted right into the horde to her side, Dae upon his flank, and then in frenzy did our forces struggle to rescue him. If the hound had not been there, he would have perished at Curóniel's side for certain. That is the day Dae Dínen lost her leg, placing her body between an Orc blade and my brother's neck. As you may imagine, she is revered among my family and Dae has been at Legolas' side ever since her recovery."

Sîrgell had to stop, for he was overcome with sorrow and wept openly for his little brother's misfortune and the loss of Cúroniel.

The Noldor bowed their heads discretely and Erestor gently smoothed his hand against the younger elf's back. The comfort of this touch eased the prince and he regained his composure.

"Forgive me, but Curóniel was loved by all and Legolas is a joy, as you have seen, and it is so wrong for tragedy to have found him," he said. "And Menelfân blames himself, though there is nothing he could have done differently. That is another reason I agreed to this silly game, for this day is hard for him also."

The visitors expressed their agreement with these sentiments in silent nods of their grim countenances. They could guess how the battle had ended, for with the goal achieved the cowardly spawn of Melkor's putrid cruelty would flee rather than risk their lives further.

"Yet Legolas seemed well today, though none could miss the note of sorrow tingeing his every word. Has he come to some awareness of the reality?" wondered Cugu aloud.

"I cannot say with certainty what is in his mind," Sîrgell shook his head and shifted in discomfort. "And we all try very hard to just let him be happy now that he is able to manage it. It is only six months since he started to speak again, for he was nearly lost to us through his grief. None can bear to ask him for an explanation; we fear he will succumb to sorrow anew."

"Aye, that is best," remarked Toloth. It was clear to him their questions had encroached on ground the young warrior was unwilling to cross. "It is too soon. It was longer than ten years before I could talk of my brother's demise during the destruction of Eregion."

"Indeed. It is remarkable that he has endured; he must be strong of heart," added Erestor. "But, if I may enquire, what does it mean when you speak of 'the Tawarwaith'? I had thought this only another way of describing the Nandor."

"You are right, but it is much more," Sîrgell began, relieved at the change of topic, but then paused as he pondered how to answer. "Tawar is the soul of our people, and we are linked with our forest; our fates bound together as it were." He stopped again, searching their attentive faces as he sought for a way to help them see. A frustrated sigh escaped him. "It is difficult to explain to outlanders. I know not enough of your people to say what this thing is like in your terms!"

"That is alright, Sîrgell; it is enough if you can tell what it means among the Nandor," encouraged Erestor with a kindly smile.

The prince gave a nod and began again.

"From the First Days, some among us have always been more sensitive to the voice of the Spirit of the Great Wood. We believe it is a gift of Yavanna. The descendants of these folk belong to the House of Tawar for such reason, yet even among this lineage there is but one named the Tawarwaith. The designation is given at birth, for a distinct mark upon the body is always present."

"And Legolas bears this sign?" inquired Toloth.

"Yes, and it is unprecedented for a male. Always has the Tawarwaith been female, and so the Woodland folk rightly hold Legolas as somewhat strange. Yet, all love him dearly and hope his arrival is a good omen that the Shadow plaguing our home will be driven out when he reaches his majority."

"That is a heavy responsibility for one so young to carry," Toloth did not approve. No single elf could remove the blight of Dol Guldur when wizards and the mightiest among elf-kind had failed, much less a mere child.

"Yet Adar feels this is what saved him," rejoined Sîrgell, "and my Naneth concurs. Ithilloth is also of the House of Tawar and Cúroniel was her younger sister."

Once more the Noldor were caught off guard by the unorthodox customs of these silvan elves and found their thoughts scrambled as they contemplated Sîrgell's convoluted relationship to Legolas.

"Valar! You are both his brother and his cousin?" Cugu blurted out, too confused to care about propriety. His mate elbowed him sharply and Erestor groaned.

"Sort of," the prince laughed but wrinkled up his nose in distaste. "I regard him only as my baby brother, though. Cousins here often bond!"

The three visitors just stared at him, bug-eyed and speechless for perhaps the sixth or seventh time, uncertain which; having lost count after Thranduil's polygamy had been disclosed.

"Then Legolas understands fully his duty as your peoples' spiritual leader?" Erestor at last found his tongue and turned the topic back to the elfling's destiny.

"Undoubtedly. Personally, I think Tawar has instructed the child regarding Curóniel's death, for how would Legolas make peace with what has happened otherwise? As cruel as I may deem it, I believe these dreams he suffers are visions of his Naneth's end, and he has let slip a word or two that upholds that theory. Legolas' title is not honorary; he is the Tawarwaith. You cannot deny you felt it in his words of blessing."

"That I did," averred Cugu. "If it is this Tawar that turned him away from Mandos, then I am glad for it. That is as delightful an elfling as I have ever met! I do not wonder his people adore him."

"Aye, he did not seem overly sombre for all his exalted titles and catastrophic loss. Quite reminded me of Elrond's youngest when she was around that age. Oh, she had everyone answering to her beck and call; none could deny her!" Erestor chortled, remembering Arwen dancing with her father at the winter solstice until the stars were washed from the sky by the blush of dawn, so small he had to hold her to his chest, feet high above the ground, as they whirled across the Hall of Fire.

"Aye, rest assured Legolas will be at the feast, sitting on Adar's lap no less," said Sîrgell, grinning to see the advisor's wistful expression. "Come inside, I will lead you to your rooms and direct you to the baths. I must get cleaned up as well and then I shall take you on a tour, unless you are tired?"

"Nay, we would welcome the opportunity to see this fortress, your Highness," spoke Toloth. But Sîrgell's words regarding Tawar had disturbed him. He had no use for a Spirit that would teach an innocent of heartbreak and despair such that it nearly resulted in Legolas' death. These reflections he kept private, however, having already earned his Lord's annoyed displeasure for his unguarded tongue.

"Please, none of us use titles, except the wives and for them it is necessary," Sîrgell replied and led the way within the stronghold's main hall.

Tbc.

Reviews:

Shanna: ¡Hola Shanna! ¡Gracias por la reseña! No comprendo Español bien, pero yo tradar de escribo una respuesta. Perdones usted mis errores, por favor. Soy muy contento con sus cumplidos numerosos. Tú estás muy simpatica. Muchas muchas gracias por leyendo mis historias y por sus reseñas. ¡Salud! erobey

Anon: I am pleased you are enjoying this, and here is the next bit! Thank you so much for reviewing!

JastaElf: Oh thank you! Yes, Thranduil has a very large family, and this is but the tip of the iceburg! Legolas' many siblings do try and keep up with him, but they are much older (but not too old!) and so their duties often keep them occupied. Your compliments make me smile and help encourage me to continue, thank you again!
- 4
- 5
- 6
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

Legolas and the Balrog