This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
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4,649
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98
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
4,649
Reviews:
98
Recommended:
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.
Anticipation
CHAPTER 6
The following day was devoted entirely to the preparations for Legolas’ begetting day celebration. The royal ken ben bustled with the coming and going of cooks and bakers, who toiled hard to make this the best gala yet for their sweet, dearly loved Prince. Decorators were at work in the banquet hall, where the fete would be held, stringing banners and ribbons on the walls. Long, deliciously scented garlands of living flowers were wound around the pillars on all four sides of the room, and brightly colored fabrics of rich textures draped along the balconies. A group of Elven musicians rehearsed in a corner of the room, their lovely, lilting music adding to the air of festivity in the hall.
In an effort to occupy their minds with something other than the coming party, Legolas and Isalith again found themselves at the Guards’ training field, watching the warriors instruct each other in the preferred fighting style of their homelands. This time the two Princes sat on the side of the field, watching raptly. Today, Uriong was teaching Belorfilad how to wield one of the swords used by the Ilandrian Guards. The broaraceracefully arced blades sang as they sliced through the air, and the Captains circled one another in what would’ve been a deadly dance if they’d fought in earnest. They had removed their tunics and boots, and were dressed only in leggings. The eastern warriors had taken to dressing the same as their Mirkwood counterparts since the climate here was cooler than their own, in spite of the fact that it was spring. As the Captains fought, powerful muscles rippled and bunched with each clash of their blades. The carved amber and chiseled marble torsos gleamed in the sun with the sweat of their exertions. After several moments of this, Uriong swung his blade sideways, feigning an assault on Belorfilad’s midsection when he thought his defenses were faltering. He was taken by surprise though, when Belorfilad dropped to the ground in a crouch with one leg extended, and spun once, sweeping Uriong’s feet from under him. He fell to the grass on his back, the air jolted from his lungs. Belorfilad was on him instantly, straddling his waist with one hand on his chest, as he gently pressed the tip of his blade against Uriong’s exposed throat.
“Brilliant move, my friend,” Uriong laughed good-naturedly as he tried to catch his breath.
“Tie Sere,” Belorfilad replied, and he laughed, too. “You should try it sometime.” He leaned over Uriong a little and playfully asked, “Do you yield?”
Uriong gazed deeply into his sky blue eyes before lifting one dark eyebrow, and offering Belorfilad a most beguiling smile. “Willingly,” he said softly, so that no one else would hear.
The blonde Captain smiled a little uncertainly, but Uriong clearly saw the intrigued flicker in his lovely eyes. It was all the encouragement he needed; he began to speak again, but he was interrupted by the voice of a female servant as she called to the Princes, “Majesties, your mothers wish you to return to the palace now. ‘Tis time to bathe and change for the celebration.”
They were on their feet instantly. At last, it was almost time for the festivities to begin. They called out their goodbyes to all of the Guards, and Leg add added, “We will see all of you there?”
Belorfilad and Uriong had risen from the ground and they inclined their heads, touching their hands to their hearts. “You may depend on it, my Prince,” Belorfilad replied fondly.
Legolas smiled and nodded, waving to them one last time before taking Isalith’s hand. They ran happily toward the palace; the party would begin in the mid-afternoon and carry through the evening. For the young Princes, it couldn’t begin soon enough.
********************
“Legolas, stop squirming,” Naniel scolded, even while she laughed at her son’s exuberance. He stood on a chair between his adar and naneth, as they worked to make him appear as prince-like as possible. Naniel stood behind him, trying to braid his hair while Thranduil stood before him, tying a broad sash around his waist.
“I am sorry, naneth,” he replied, “but I am *excited*.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
“I know you are, my darling, but the sooner you allow us to do this, the sooner we will all be at the banquet hall.” Already, thanks to her son’s wiggling, she’d had to loosen his hair and re-braid it three times. It wasn’t a complicated style she was trying to achieve; she wanted only to pull back the sides of his hair loosely into a low braid, caught in a clasp at the back of his head. But he made it nearly impossible, and although it was frustrating, Naniel couldn’t be upset with him. It was his day, and she and Thranduil wanted only to make it one he would remember always. Her husband had stood in front of Legolas, making an effort to concentrate on the sash as his broad shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.
“You are not helping,” she said in mock reproach, but already her lips were beginning to turn up in an amused smile as laughter welled up inside her, too.
Legolas finally managed to take himself in hand, allowing his parents to finish their work. Naniel came around to stand next to Thranduil as they looked over their son appraisingly. The Queen wrapped her arms around her husband, folding her hands at the side of his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. He pulled her gently closer, leaning che cheek on the top of her head.
“We have done well, have we not?” he murmured, as he gazed at Legolas. His aqua-blue eyes shone with pride and love.
“Yes, your Majesty,” Naniel replied softly, “I would say we have created a work of art.” Thinking that they were discussing his appearance, Legolas looked down at himself and smoothed his tunic with his hands. When he glanced up, he saw the mistiness in his mother’s eyes as she smiled at him, just before Thranduil took her chentlently in his hand and turned her to face up to his.
Wrinkling his nose, Legolas clutched his stomach theatrically. “You are not going to kiss again, are you?” he asked in a pained voice.
Thranduil laughed heartily at that, and Naniel feigned shock and injury at his question.
The King lifted his son off the chair, set him on the floor, and playfully swatted his backside. “Off with you then, insolent whelp,” he said good-humoredly. Legolas giggled and ran toward the door. He paused there and turned to look back at his parents. His face grew serious and, for just one moment, he looked centuries older than his fifty eight years, giving his mother and father a glimpse of the fine Elf he would become.
“Already this is the most wonderful begetting-day I have ever had. Thank you, naneth and adar.” Then he smiled and was once again their young son.
“Legolas,” his mother said, “you barely touched your plate at the midday meal. You will be famished before the banquet begins. Go to the kitchen and ask for a little something to tide you over. We will meet you there in a moment.”
He grinned mischievously. “May I have a sweet?”
“A *small* one,” Naniel specified.
The Prince turned and scampered down the hallway, tingting “Thank you, naneth,” as he ran.
“Yes, thank you, naneth,” Thranduil echoed softly, as he again drew his wife close to him.
“For what?” she asked in surprise.
He gently kissed her forehead. “For gracing my life.” Kissed the tip of her nose. “For being a wise and fair partner in the ruling of Mirkwood.” Kissed her soft lips. “For my son.”
“I wish I could have given moremore children, my love,” she said regretfully.
Thranduil shook his head, placing a finger on her lips to stop her. “Eru has been good to us. We may have only one child, but he possesses every good and noble quality we could have hoped for. We have been blessed.”
Naniel nodded in agreement, smiling tenderly. “And speaking of our one child, perhaps we should go and see what he manamanaged to wheedle out of the cooks.”
The King laughed and, lacing his fingers with hers, led her out into the hall as they went in search of the resourceful Prince.
*****************************
Author’s note: My apologies that this was so short. I only wanted to set the atmosphere for the celebration with this one. I promise to make it up to you in #7. Scout’s honor. *g*
The following day was devoted entirely to the preparations for Legolas’ begetting day celebration. The royal ken ben bustled with the coming and going of cooks and bakers, who toiled hard to make this the best gala yet for their sweet, dearly loved Prince. Decorators were at work in the banquet hall, where the fete would be held, stringing banners and ribbons on the walls. Long, deliciously scented garlands of living flowers were wound around the pillars on all four sides of the room, and brightly colored fabrics of rich textures draped along the balconies. A group of Elven musicians rehearsed in a corner of the room, their lovely, lilting music adding to the air of festivity in the hall.
In an effort to occupy their minds with something other than the coming party, Legolas and Isalith again found themselves at the Guards’ training field, watching the warriors instruct each other in the preferred fighting style of their homelands. This time the two Princes sat on the side of the field, watching raptly. Today, Uriong was teaching Belorfilad how to wield one of the swords used by the Ilandrian Guards. The broaraceracefully arced blades sang as they sliced through the air, and the Captains circled one another in what would’ve been a deadly dance if they’d fought in earnest. They had removed their tunics and boots, and were dressed only in leggings. The eastern warriors had taken to dressing the same as their Mirkwood counterparts since the climate here was cooler than their own, in spite of the fact that it was spring. As the Captains fought, powerful muscles rippled and bunched with each clash of their blades. The carved amber and chiseled marble torsos gleamed in the sun with the sweat of their exertions. After several moments of this, Uriong swung his blade sideways, feigning an assault on Belorfilad’s midsection when he thought his defenses were faltering. He was taken by surprise though, when Belorfilad dropped to the ground in a crouch with one leg extended, and spun once, sweeping Uriong’s feet from under him. He fell to the grass on his back, the air jolted from his lungs. Belorfilad was on him instantly, straddling his waist with one hand on his chest, as he gently pressed the tip of his blade against Uriong’s exposed throat.
“Brilliant move, my friend,” Uriong laughed good-naturedly as he tried to catch his breath.
“Tie Sere,” Belorfilad replied, and he laughed, too. “You should try it sometime.” He leaned over Uriong a little and playfully asked, “Do you yield?”
Uriong gazed deeply into his sky blue eyes before lifting one dark eyebrow, and offering Belorfilad a most beguiling smile. “Willingly,” he said softly, so that no one else would hear.
The blonde Captain smiled a little uncertainly, but Uriong clearly saw the intrigued flicker in his lovely eyes. It was all the encouragement he needed; he began to speak again, but he was interrupted by the voice of a female servant as she called to the Princes, “Majesties, your mothers wish you to return to the palace now. ‘Tis time to bathe and change for the celebration.”
They were on their feet instantly. At last, it was almost time for the festivities to begin. They called out their goodbyes to all of the Guards, and Leg add added, “We will see all of you there?”
Belorfilad and Uriong had risen from the ground and they inclined their heads, touching their hands to their hearts. “You may depend on it, my Prince,” Belorfilad replied fondly.
Legolas smiled and nodded, waving to them one last time before taking Isalith’s hand. They ran happily toward the palace; the party would begin in the mid-afternoon and carry through the evening. For the young Princes, it couldn’t begin soon enough.
********************
“Legolas, stop squirming,” Naniel scolded, even while she laughed at her son’s exuberance. He stood on a chair between his adar and naneth, as they worked to make him appear as prince-like as possible. Naniel stood behind him, trying to braid his hair while Thranduil stood before him, tying a broad sash around his waist.
“I am sorry, naneth,” he replied, “but I am *excited*.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
“I know you are, my darling, but the sooner you allow us to do this, the sooner we will all be at the banquet hall.” Already, thanks to her son’s wiggling, she’d had to loosen his hair and re-braid it three times. It wasn’t a complicated style she was trying to achieve; she wanted only to pull back the sides of his hair loosely into a low braid, caught in a clasp at the back of his head. But he made it nearly impossible, and although it was frustrating, Naniel couldn’t be upset with him. It was his day, and she and Thranduil wanted only to make it one he would remember always. Her husband had stood in front of Legolas, making an effort to concentrate on the sash as his broad shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.
“You are not helping,” she said in mock reproach, but already her lips were beginning to turn up in an amused smile as laughter welled up inside her, too.
Legolas finally managed to take himself in hand, allowing his parents to finish their work. Naniel came around to stand next to Thranduil as they looked over their son appraisingly. The Queen wrapped her arms around her husband, folding her hands at the side of his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. He pulled her gently closer, leaning che cheek on the top of her head.
“We have done well, have we not?” he murmured, as he gazed at Legolas. His aqua-blue eyes shone with pride and love.
“Yes, your Majesty,” Naniel replied softly, “I would say we have created a work of art.” Thinking that they were discussing his appearance, Legolas looked down at himself and smoothed his tunic with his hands. When he glanced up, he saw the mistiness in his mother’s eyes as she smiled at him, just before Thranduil took her chentlently in his hand and turned her to face up to his.
Wrinkling his nose, Legolas clutched his stomach theatrically. “You are not going to kiss again, are you?” he asked in a pained voice.
Thranduil laughed heartily at that, and Naniel feigned shock and injury at his question.
The King lifted his son off the chair, set him on the floor, and playfully swatted his backside. “Off with you then, insolent whelp,” he said good-humoredly. Legolas giggled and ran toward the door. He paused there and turned to look back at his parents. His face grew serious and, for just one moment, he looked centuries older than his fifty eight years, giving his mother and father a glimpse of the fine Elf he would become.
“Already this is the most wonderful begetting-day I have ever had. Thank you, naneth and adar.” Then he smiled and was once again their young son.
“Legolas,” his mother said, “you barely touched your plate at the midday meal. You will be famished before the banquet begins. Go to the kitchen and ask for a little something to tide you over. We will meet you there in a moment.”
He grinned mischievously. “May I have a sweet?”
“A *small* one,” Naniel specified.
The Prince turned and scampered down the hallway, tingting “Thank you, naneth,” as he ran.
“Yes, thank you, naneth,” Thranduil echoed softly, as he again drew his wife close to him.
“For what?” she asked in surprise.
He gently kissed her forehead. “For gracing my life.” Kissed the tip of her nose. “For being a wise and fair partner in the ruling of Mirkwood.” Kissed her soft lips. “For my son.”
“I wish I could have given moremore children, my love,” she said regretfully.
Thranduil shook his head, placing a finger on her lips to stop her. “Eru has been good to us. We may have only one child, but he possesses every good and noble quality we could have hoped for. We have been blessed.”
Naniel nodded in agreement, smiling tenderly. “And speaking of our one child, perhaps we should go and see what he manamanaged to wheedle out of the cooks.”
The King laughed and, lacing his fingers with hers, led her out into the hall as they went in search of the resourceful Prince.
*****************************
Author’s note: My apologies that this was so short. I only wanted to set the atmosphere for the celebration with this one. I promise to make it up to you in #7. Scout’s honor. *g*