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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
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.

A/N: Feud readers will recognise many of the elements depicted here, though the 'Balrog' AU does not belong to that tale but to the short piece 'Not Yet'. I would like to credit Sarah AK for one of these elements. Her story 'Return to Mirkwood' features a ceiling painted to show the night sky, and inspired the description of the Council Chamber's ceiling, which is the same here as described in Feud.

VI. Came Three Elves Knocking at My Front Door

Now the Noldor felt they had a fair idea as to why the four wives demanded use of their titles, but politely kept silence as they followed Thranduil's heir inside the mountain stronghold. All of the females were clearly strong personalities, very assured of their places in the royal household, and there would likely be some clashes of temperament if everyone did not acknowledge the proper respect owed each one's station. What privileges might be accorded to such ranking was yet to be revealed to the Imladrian Delegation.

The guests had already learned so much that it was questionable if they could absorb more. Among the items on the list were the deadly resolve and fierce prowess of the woodland warriors, the inclusion of females among the fighters, the disarming warmth of the Sinda King and his silver-haired Queen, and her bedazzling command of magical power. These facts were nothing compared to the shock of meeting Thranduil's multiple mates (Perhaps they are all queens and take it in turns to lead these people) and their astounding number of offspring (Twelve!). The King had exceeded Feärnáro's tally almost twice over, though the saturnine Noldo had espoused but a single mate. Why the Sinda Lord had wished for so large a family was incomprehensible to the visiting elves.

Most upsetting was the explanation for the distinct sense of mourning that clung to Thranduil, even when his face was wreathed in merriment, and the Greenwood's youngest prince. Sîrgell's recount of Legolas' tragic loss had quite drained the Noldor and they were more than ready for rest and relaxation. Eagerly they flanked their youthful host as he passed beneath the mighty archway.

No sooner had they crossed the threshold than a palpable aura of quiescent peace enveloped them. The huge space was deserted yet held a vital quality of presence that settled around the elves, instilling a desire to enter yet remain inconspicuous lest the serenity be disturbed. The atmosphere inspired reverent awe and the Noldor were overcome anew with the sense of stepping into a temple or a shrine.

The cavern extended at least twenty metres into the mountain and was probably closer to fifteen metres in breadth. The air within, cool and sweet with the scent of aromatic cedar wood incense, was softly aglow from the diffusive luminance of what seemed a hundred lanterns both standing upright upon the floor or set within brackets in the walls and columns. There were two rows of pillars totalling twenty-four in all, that divided the room in unequal thirds, the central section far larger than the two wings. The supports, each a half-metre's diameter, looked to have been delved from solid stone, which they were, and thus Erestor surmised the chamber had been opened wider during its creation. Each of the pylons was decorated with intricate carvings from top to bottom.

Beyond these columns, doorways, some brilliantly lighted while others were obscured in impenetrable ebony, broke the continuity of the chamber's walls. The portals were bordered with exquisite patterns of vines and flowers, birds and insects, all worked in delicately painted relief. At either side of the main area, between the first and second pillars, a wood stairway ascended in gracefully curved contours to a circular gallery above that wrapped all the way round the perimeter of the chamber. The twisting banisters were made in the form of a trailing vine of Morning Glories complete with large trumpet shaped blossoms painted such a vibrant blue that they looked alive. More doorways could be observed leading off from the wood-railed balcony.

The curling steps did not go beyond the second level, for the ceiling of the room was of such height that it should have been impossible to tell where it terminated. As it was, the roof of the vaulted space was lit with a series of small lamps that drew attention upward. Cugu gasped, Toloth breathed the name of Varda, and Erestor stared in silent wonderment as all three ceased motion to admire the sight. The rock above was formed from the deposit of an ancient lava flow and the vesicular, black basalt was dotted with gleaming crystals that winked and twinkled in silver and white like the stars of the heavens.

Now the pattern of the gems was not a random scattering as would be worked by nature through untold aeons. True, thus had the clear calcite grown as water carried minerals through the pores of the surrounding rock. Yet it was not until Oropher's time that this specific arrangement of stones had been worked.

The Sinda King was not born before the creation of Ithil and Anor, but within the Greenwood were many elves that had first seen the gifts of Varda at Cuiviénen. From these edhel their new King had gained a detailed map of all the stars visible then, and had set his craftsmen to work recreating this view by painstaking removal and relocation of hundreds of the translucent gems. And though few beyond the bounds of Thranduil's family would understand it, this room and its star-encrusted ceiling best represented Oropher's desire to return to the original design of Iluvatar for the First-born.

Sîrgell paused proudly, smiling to see the amazement wrought upon his charges' features, as they remained rapt in contemplation of the upper reaches of the hall.

"This we call the Chamber of Starlight for obvious reasons. What you behold is menel as it truly is, beyond the bold glare of Anor that hides many of the Star-kindler's gifts from sight, even on Ithil 'wain (New Moon)," he said and his words echoed melodically from the distant walls.

"Why this is astonishing!" whispered Toloth.

"You say there are stars we cannot see?" Cugu's equally hushed voice rejoined.

"Aye, I have heard this spoken of from Cirdan at Mithlond," Erestor was nodding as he returned his scrutiny to their guide. "Yet not even he has spoken of the beauty hidden here among your green trees. I dare say no one among the western realms of elf-kind would guess such a magnificent display exists."

"That is sad news," Sîrgell said. "For I understood that in days of old, the Galadhrim kept regular ambassadors and emissaries here, as did we among their councils beneath the Mellyrn. Have all forgotten the Nandor?"

"Nay, not so! Celeborn himself recommended this journey, saying your people had too long been isolated and withdrawn from the west. Still, much mystery shrouds the Wood Elves now," Erestor answered as diplomatically as possible. It would not do to state publicly the derision he often heard in voices discussing the folk of the forest. Aye, even my own words belittled them just hours ago.

"Since we must pass through here to reach your quarters, perhaps I should take you around the rest of the hall," Sîrgell said and began moving forward again. He veered to the right and the elves crossed diagonally through the centre of the chamber. The Wood Elf prince's feet were bare and made no sound as he advanced, but the Noldo wore their hard-soled boots and the noisy clopping of three pairs of heels striking the ground reverberated harshly.

Toloth looked down at his feet in dismay and immediately halted, startled, as he gazed upon the floor. He had been so struck by the lighted roof that he had taken no note of the beauty under his very toes.

"Look!" he called out, reaching to tug on Cugu's arm before he got too far away. His mate turned, sought the source of the warrior's attention, and gaped in equal amazement.

The chamber's floor was set with mosaics and in the area closer to the open archway all the tiles were tinted the colour of spring grass. In the centre, however, a great circle was inlaid with an intricate motif unique in all of Arda and the Undying Lands alike. The design spanned a diameter of two metres and was divided into thirds. The scene shown by the tiles represented the Making of Iluvatar and depicted Arda as a sphere of green and blue and white. Within the globe, all of Yavanna and Aulë's work was represented as well as those of Manwë and Ulmo, spiralling outward from a common focal point. This nexus of the three divine elements, earth, water, and air, was the great tree symbol of Tawar already so prominently displayed elsewhere.

"What is this place?" queried Cugu in deferential decibels, more than ever believing he was standing in a sanctuary.

"This is our Council Chamber," Sîrgell explained. "In more peaceful times, all business of the Realm would be addressed here, including trade agreements and treaties of alliance. Within the sections would preside the Councillors of Presence for the meeting. In the centre would be Tirn-en-Tawar or sometimes the King, and petitioners would stand outside the circle. Council lasts from Minuial to Tinnu. In these days, it is used more for contemplation and reflection, a place to hear the voice of Tawar and add to the Music. Many celebrations and ceremonies are held here."

"Will tonight's feasting occur herein?" asked Toloth. He found it hard to imagine this quiet and sombre space filled with elves making merry with song and dance. Yet he had to smile as the young prince laughed at his disapproving tones.

"Do not be troubled, mellon! The Music has many melodies and not all of them are so filled with majesty or doom. Among the Wood Elves, balance is a constant endeavour."

"You speak of the tension betwixt sorrow and joy," Cugu nodded sagely.

"Ah, here is a difference among our kindreds. It is not a paired conjunction of gladness and fear that we maintain, but a triad. All things come in threes," said the King's son as though this was the only explanation required.

"How so?" Erestor could not help inquiring for he was intrigued. "I see only couples, whether of opposing or convergent purpose. For example, Ithil is for night and Anor for day, living versus dying, reverie and wakeful attention, peace or strife. Even in the case of elves, one finds pairs brought together for the raising of offspring or the betterment of Arda through combined action."

"Yes, you have got part of it." Sîrgell responded. "There is a third element in each of the pairs you have named. Along with Anor and Ithil are the stars, and the three work together to limit darkness. There is life and death but immortality also, for Iluvatar has given Arda beings long-lived, as our forest, things short-lived, as the creatures that do not speak, and people eternal, which are the edhel.

"Amid the dreaming of reverie there is conscious thought while within the activity of wakefulness there is stillness of the mind, and that is the third element of being. When two are joined in one life to share in the Making, a third entity is thus created, which is the bonded pair. Yet still the two remain as they were and can act independently one from another, while as a couple their deeds share common goals," the prince paused and glanced away into the heights as a soft blush ran up into his ears. "And in Greenwood, there are sometimes tri-bonds as well."

The Noldor's dry expressions denoted their acceptance of this fact, having just seen the young elf's father greet no less than four wives while clearly grieving for the fifth.

"As for peace and strife," their guide continued, "we count them one and the same thing, for never has there been a moment when the Wood Elves did not struggle nor a time when we have been defeated. Thus are the triple elements of immortality described."

"What are the three elements of being?" asked Cugu, amazed to find himself speaking with this youth barely past his majority, asking questions of him that Celeborn might falter to answer.

"Dream, Action and Stillness."

"And of immortality?" queried Erestor.

"Peace, Strife, Endurance."

The elves were quiet then as the Noldor considered the wisdom of these words and found much truth in the philosophy the silvan folk embraced. All of the Noldor felt chagrined to realise how little credit was given to these simple people and were ashamed to have thought of Wood Elves as backward and primitive. The words of Sîrgell did not describe a people lacking in insight and intellect, but rather of employing these gifts differently than the Noldor or Vanyar might.

Others among elf-kind pursued crafts, built great cities and palaces, worked metal and jewels, studied to understand the mechanisms governing the processes of Arda's many systems. While Calaquendi remained apart from the rest of Iluvatar's creations, regarding themselves higher and more cherished of the Valar and of Eru, the moriquendi considered their existence intricately connected to everything within the Music whether great or small, eternal or fleeting. The Wood Elves celebrated and nurtured life, participated in the Making, fought Darkness and evil, composed songs and sang them, adapted and endured.

"I wish to learn more of this while I am here," said Cugu at last.

"Then it shall be done! There is much to be gleaned within this room of our culture. Come and see, this is what I intended to show you," answered the prince and strode over to one of the foremost pillars. "Here is captured the history of the Nandor and the Sindar. All you may wish to know is documented."

The Noldor had already noticed the carvings on the stone columns and now they advanced to Sîrgell's side to get a closer view. From the ground to waist level, an elaborate rendition of the forest filled the space. The relief was very detailed and wrapped entirely around the solid supports, capped by a broad border of interlocking geometric shapes that resembled birds in flight. Above this and to just two hand's width above eye level, the sculpting showed various events in the long history of the silvan elves beneath the trees, all the way back to the founding of the realm at the time of the Great Journey and the origins of the Nandor. Another border broke the space from the remaining stone, and the top portions were decorated with all the emblems for the various Houses residing beneath the forest's canopy.

Fascinated, Erestor moved slowly from column to column, studying the sculptures. There were many examples of everyday activities among the trees. Elves hunting, harvesting the fruits of the forest, and singing and celebrating together adorned many of the columns. (Peace.) Yet there were also images of heroic and legendary feats, from individual encounters with Oromë and battles against Orcs to the bloodbath of the Last Alliance. (Strife.)

The likenesses of the elves were carefully and realistically rendered so that as the Noldor moved from one pillar to the next the same people could be recognised in different events across untold thousands of years. Indeed, Erestor was certain the attendant who had taken his pack was the same elf shown aiding the wounded at Dagorlad and walking hand-in-hand with his mate under the starlit sky of Cuiviénen. (Endurance.)

"Oh!" the dignified advisor called out spontaneously as he stopped before this final column. It showed the crushing massacre of the Nandor at the Last Alliance, and every elf present that day was visually represented. Oropher and his sons were easily recognisable, yet there were two warriors so different from the others that their participation was more pronounced than even the King. These two were clearly not silvan and were identical in face and form to one another. Twins were a rarity among the various realms of elves, and among the Noldor were only known within the line of Finwë.

But that was not why the advisor to the Lord of Imladris was so excited. His interest was sparked by the remarkable likeness these sculptures bore to the famed sons of Elrond.

"Who are these elves?" demanded Erestor, pointing in brisk impatience at the carving as Sîrgell approached.

"Ah!" the prince smiled and nodded. "The Founders of the House of the Raven are shown here."

"These are surely Noldor elves," protested the worthy kinsman of Elrond.

"Nay, not so! These are Sindarin princes, the twins of Dior, Eluréd and Elurín, rescued from the slaughter of the Second Kinslaying. Among us, they bore other names and were adopted by the folk of the Fox. When they reached their majority, they petitioned the Council to found a new House in honour of their lineage, and this was granted. Their House is great now and among their descendants are my twin brothers and their sister. Every other generation, the Raven House fledges twins, always male."

The three visitors stood huddled around the images, wordlessly assimilating all they had just heard. None had ever known the fate of the sons of Dior and among the descendants of Elwing it was a tragedy never discussed without a sorrowful dirge of remembrance for the dread doom that befell those innocents at the hands of the sons of Feänaro. To hear this tale revealed and find no less than the uncles of Elrond was astounding.

"Valar! This is wondrous news! Long has the story of these brothers been hidden from us! An ancient wound in the soul of our Lord will be healed upon our return to Imladris!" Erestor exclaimed as a huge grin adorned his features. "Will they be at the feast tonight?"

"Truly, we shall have to hold our own festival and rejoice for their discovery," Toloth added.

"Yet how could we miss them at Dagorlad?" wondered Cugu.

"That is because they did not fight side by side, but rather among the relatives of their bonded mates. Thus one without the other would hardly draw the eye. They are rendered together here for the purpose of economy. We are running out of rock!" replied Sîrgell but the expression on his countenance described more than dismay for the lack of additional surface area to decorate. He sighed.

"I despise being the one to dispel your gladness. Alas, both were among the casualties of the Last Alliance. Bravely did they fight and their fierceness spared many of their kinfolk from death. The sons of Dior were among the most respected within our Realm, and were friends with Adar for all his life. Indeed, Corchrîn, beloved of Thranduil, is the granddaughter of Elurín," he concluded sombrely.

The Noldo statesman looked bereft and bewildered and crestfallen, stupefied and dumbstruck, cheated and hurt, wounded in heart and soul as he stared at the forest prince.

"Ai, to have found them only to lose them the next instant! This is a hard revelation Sîrgell," mourned Erestor.

Cugu and Toloth had no words to speak; feeling it would be presumptuous to intrude upon the sorrow of Elrond's kinsman, and kin to the lost princes also. They bowed their heads, murmuring quick prayers for a speedy return from Mandos, for what more could they do?

"I grieve for your loss, and for that of all the sundered kin of Eluréd and Elurín," intoned Sîrgell respectfully.

Erestor heaved a heavy breath and released it noisily against the solitude of the Chamber of Starlight. The echo of this lamenting sigh returned to them, however, lighter in tone and sounding more like a breeze caressing a grove of leaf-laden trees. (At least their fate is known, and it was a good one after all.)

"I thank you, Sîrgell, both for your commiseration and for the news, solemn though it is. I am glad to have the truth, and indeed that was far better than the gruesome deaths we have assumed befell them nearly two Ages ago. The House of Eärendil is indebted to the silvan elves. Yet in all the time since their rescue, why did they never send word to their sister's people?" asked Erestor.

Sîrgell's countenance blanched noticeably and he pursed his lips together in a grim line. Ai! Nana had foresight to sanction this punishment! This is more difficult than facing the mines would ever be!

"Again it falls to me to bring upon you greater sorrow, and to reveal a failing among our people. I am not pleased to speak of this prejudice, yet honour compels me to do so. Please recall the context in which the young princes were abandoned.

"The sons of Feänaro wrought the murder of the elflings' parents before their very eyes. The servants of Celegorm cruelly deserted them in the wilds near the River Aros. There the Laiquendi discovered them and took them in, for it was known the surviving Noldor princes sought for the twins. It was feared they would destroy entirely the heritage of the last King of Doriath in their lust for the Silmarils. The elflings were brought over the mountains and across the wide plains of Arnor and Eriador to the protection of the Greenwood and harboured amidst the Nandor. The secret of their survival was well guarded for fear of reprisals and war with Maedhros and Maglor. Then, Beleriand was washed away, and it was believed Elwing was lost also.

"The twins grew and accepted that they were the last of their folk, living as Nandor from then on. When word later came of Elwing's destiny and the final disposition of the Silmarils, it seemed a strange choice to Dior's sons for both the Mariner and his elven wife to abandon Elrond and Elros. The fostering and alliance of the orphans to the House of Maglor, by virtue of Eärendil's Noldo heritage through Idril, daughter of Turgon the son of Fingolfin, brought Eluréd and Elurín near to despair. They felt their lineage was dishonoured and corrupted when these blood-kin nephews became the sons-by-adoption to the murderers of Dior and Nimloth.

"Forgive me my words, Lord Erestor. To them this seemed a great evil, for the King and Queen of Doriath were no less than the grandparents of Elrond and Elros. To pardon the perpetrators of their destruction was bad enough, but to embrace the kinslayers and ally with their House, this was unforgivable. The Raven Founders had no wish to meet such elves," Sîrgell completed this narration with head bowed low and eyes downcast, dreading what response this would provoke within the noble from Imladris.

For long moments Erestor considered these words in morose silence. The young Sinda prince had succinctly recounted the sins that had divided the races of the Teleri from their Noldo counterparts. Truly, from the perspective presented, the actions of Elwing and Eärendil, Elrond and Elros must seem strange and twisted. (Here is shown the worst of Melkor's deeds.)

But Erestor was not bitter, for he had come to terms with this dark portion of his people's history long ago. He attributed the destructive divisiveness to its Dark source, and could not hold the innocent uncles of his Lord accountable for any wrong. Nor would he find fault with the good folk that had seen fit to safeguard and nurture those lost elflings. He nodded once and reached over to softly pat Sîrgell's arm.

"No forgiveness is required, not from me nor any of my kin. The House of Eärendil is still indebted to the Nandor. And there is cause for sorrow, but more reason for rejoicing. Have you not just informed me that I will meet many cousins, nephews, and nieces beneath these trees? Indeed, I will be pleased to report this good fortune to my Lord, and this will only work to bridge the chasm between our people."

His kind and encouraging words brought Sîrgell's eyes from the ground, and the prince found in Erestor's no enmity or rancour. He smiled and breathed easier.

"Thank Elbereth! I feared to be the cause of this diplomacy to fail before it could even be enjoined," he said with relief upon the lilting tones.

"Please tell us what names they were known by among the Wood Elves?" queried Erestor, for he was curious to have all the details of the lost brothers.

"Many designations they bore, and never was their true heritage hidden either, so that the Sindarin titles voiced amid the caverns of Nargothrond were sometimes spoken within these halls as well. Yet the elflings were adopted by the Foxes and so the choosing of how to call them fell to a vote among those folk." Sîrgell seemed reluctant to reveal the actual words.

"What, is it something terrible?" asked Cugu directly.

"Nay, not so bad as that, surely," stammered the prince as his face squinched up in a rather telling example of embarrassed objection. "The Foxes are very keen on boasting of physical attributes."

"Oh?" Cugu and Toloth spoke together, brows raised in amazingly similar expressions of ribald interest.

"What, um, kind of physical attributes, exactly," added Toloth with a curling grin upending his lips.

Erestor huffed in exasperation and pressed a hand against his weary forehead.

Sîrgell's mouth made a nicely symmetrical oval to match his widened eyes and he drew back, shaking his head and waving his hand through the air in front of him as if to clear it of the unintentional innuendo.

"Nay! Nothing of that…nature!" he hurriedly explained. "Elurín was called Bundgoru (Cunning Snout) and Eluréd was Lhawvaeg (Sharp Ears)."

For a moment the four elves were quiet as these rather unruly sounding appellations were pronounced. Then Cugu's eyes shifted left as Toloth's slipped right and they shared silent smirks before erupting into rollicking guffaws. In spite of himself, Erestor could not maintain his stoic demeanour in the face of their mirth. With a wet spluttery expulsion of air from between lips he was trying to keep clamped shut, the seneschal from Imladris burst into laughter. Relieved no offence was taken, Sîrgell joined in the merriment. The Chamber of Starlight rang with their good-natured exuberant.

"Of course," Sîrgell managed as the fit of laughing subsided into giggly snickers, "they used nicknames most of the time."

The Noldor quieted down and waited expectantly, still smiling as they gazed at the Sinda prince.

"Everyone just called one Coru (Cunning) and the other Lhaw (Ears)." This caused Cugu to snort and Toloth shook his head. "But few could tell them apart and so most of the time, they were just called Lhawgoru (Cunning Ears) collectively."

That set them all off again and the four elves snickered and giggled as they imagined the esteemed and regal Princes of Doriath, bold warriors and Founders of the noble Raven clan, responding to so ridiculous an designation. It did not seem to occur to either of the Noldor warriors that their own nicknames were little better. Indeed, Cugu and Toloth revelled in the apt, if somewhat off-colour, reference to the sensitivity of Sindar ears. Erestor suddenly remembered that Celebrian had often called both her sons Trestad'adol (Double Trouble), while Sîrgell was merely glad no one was angry over such indignity.

"Once they were grown, the brothers took matters in hand and made official the names their mother had given to them at birth: Eluréd was thereafter called Gilorthad (Rising Star) and Elurín was known as Elril (Bright Star)." The prince finally regained enough air in his lungs to report this bit of news.

That brought the Noldor to silence again, for here was another poignant link to the Mariner's line. Nimloth (the mother of Elwing, Eluréd, and Elurín) must have had foresight to some degree, predicting the fate of her daughter's chosen mate long before either knew of the man's existence.

A few moments of solitude passed as the four elves turned once more to gaze upon the fair countenances of the lost princes of Doriath. Then Erestor inhaled deeply of the cool, scented air and rested a hand upon Sîrgell's shoulder.

"Hannad, Thranduilion," he said. "Now direct us to hot water and fresh garments, for I am ready to celebrate this night!"

Tbc.

Special thanks to Jasta! Thank you for those words of support! Means all the world! I am tryiing hard in this story to make Thranduil the complete opposite of the characterisation in Feud, where he is so absolutely cold to Legolas. He will have to acknowledge his first-born son before that tale is all told, but he will never ask for forgiveness. It is not in him; he has never been able to feel remorse for anything without turning it into bitterness and faulting those around him, either his brothers, incompetent and ignorant silvans, or the Valar. The best those two can hope to achieve is guarded civility and someday, maybe, respect.

Thank you again for your great feedback!

Cheers,
erobey
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Legolas and the Balrog