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The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2097 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is the sole creation of JRR Tolkien. The characters in this story are, therefore, not mine, with the exception of OCs. I make no money with my writing, it is purely for pleasure.

Chapter List
- 6
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Elrond slowly surfaced from his slumber, a naked Erestor snuggled against his side. Turning his head to his lover, he smiled as he watched his chief advisor blink, then swallow thickly, only to finally focus on his lord.

They shared a contented smile, which was promptly followed by a widening of the eyes as both realized the significance of the day.

“We should rise, Erestor, for there is much to achieve today.”

“Yes, and well I know it, for I am partly responsible. But first, kiss me – give me strength to make this day through to its end”.

Rising from the tussled bed, Elrond stepped onto the balcony, finding a slumbering, naked Glorfindel, covered only with a thin sheet that had been draped over his magnificent body. However, Glorfindel awoke to the sound, as Elrond turned his eyes to the gardens, Erestor coming up behind him.

………………………………………………………….

Down in the gardens, the Greenwood elves sat cross-legged on the lawn, behind the kneeling prince, faces lifted to the rising sun, voices intoning the strangest of melodies, in fact it was a simple monotone, but in a number of registers that was impossible to enumerate, from bass and baritone to contralto and soprano, sometimes soft and comforting, other times strong and soul-lifting, coinciding with the movements of the sun and its effects over the forest. In the midst of the group, sat Mentathiel, all tuned in on her as she conducted the choir through the nuances of her prodigiously strange alto voice, as she herself watched he who sat before them, facing the woods.
……………………………………………………………………

Lindir’s ears woke him, for the most amazing choir of voices was singing a monotone in the gardens below. As he tuned into the music, he realized the structure was ever-changing, from serene and harmonic, to powerful, vibrant crescendo. His lover moved to his side then, smiling beautifully as he simply said,

“The Spirit Singer”.

Lindir turned his head slightly, enough to acknowledge the comment, yet he remained silent, for the music was weaving a magic over him that he could never have described, it was beauty, and he would not ruin the moment.

………………………………………………………………..

Breakfast was subdued. There were many elves present, but there was a lack of the now characteristic morning chatter. There was a crackling tension in the air, a sense of expectation, anxiety almost.

His twin sons and his daughter sat by his side, eating dutifully, yet somewhat rigidly for the normally playful siblings. Haldir sat with them, together with his brother Rumil. This band of friends were inseparable, had been fast friends from the moment they met, but Elrond had always had a morbid curiosity as to Haldir’s pretentions with his daughter. She was free to love whom she would, of course, but Elrond was nothing if not a loving, concerned father.

It was Gildor who finally broke the silence.

“Lord Elrond. Perhaps you can tell us all the order of events for the day?”

He had obviously spoken with the praiseworthy intention of easing the tension, and Elrond visibly appreciated his effort, Gildor was indeed trying, as he had promised, and Elrond had expected no less of him, for he knew him worthy – he had been a lover to Glorfindel for many years.

“Well now, I will tell you what we know”, said Elrond, in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

“The ceremony will take place in the gardens to the back of the house. I invite you all to be there at sunset. We will enjoy a banquet, followed by drinks and entertainment. This is as much as I know Lord Gildor, the rest is in the hands of Prince Legolas.”

“We heard the most wonderous singing this morning, Lord Elrond. What was that? For it was not after the fashion of the Noldor”, said Aerion, his party nodding at his words.

Elrond looked to Lindir then, in a silent plea to explain.

“That would be the Avarin Spirit Singer, my lord”, said the musician. “I can tell you little, only that you will hear more of it today. She is an extra-ordinarily sensitive individual, capable of picking up the past, feeling the emotions of those she touches, and intuitively piecing together future events. She will have a pivotal role to play in this evening’s ceremony.”

Aerion stared at Lindir for a while, as did Gildor. The very idea was so exotic, and yet it fit with the idea they had of the elusive, magical avari of the woods. They smiled then, almost in complicity, for the events of the day were going to be surprising and unforgettable, which for elves their age was saying a lot. Faith be damned, they may be skeptical as to the naming of this elf, but they were not going to let pass the party of the century!

…………………………………………………

Morning turned to afternoon, the natives and visitors of Imladris rested in their quarters, the lords included, for a long night lay ahead of them.

However, Gaerwyn and his crew were working overtime, again. In fact, the entire lower floor of the house was in complete and utter chaos. Wine and fine liqueurs were being brought up from the cellars, game was being prepared, vegetables peeled and washed, various pastries and sponges were being decorated or stuffed. Water was set to boil, only to be whisked away to a room, and set to boil once more. Candles were being retrieved, lanterns filled with oil, incense set to holders, ready to be lit later in the evening. Decorators decked the tables with fine linen, crystal and silverware. The gardens looked beautiful, yet Celebrian’s realm stood out in stark contrast, a macabre reminder of her ordeal and final departure to Valinor in search of healing.

…………………………………………………………………..

Legolas sat with those he had come to call his ‘witnesses’ on the library balcony. He remained quiet and pensive as they spoke quietly of the evening’s events. He turned his head to Mithrandir, whose robes seemed – whiter than they normally were, however he did not comment on it, but simply smiled. Mithrandir silently challenged him to say it with a simple arch of his left brow.

Turning back to the conversation, he began to pick up their comments.

“All has been prepared, now it is the prince that calls the shots, Elrond.”

“Well, Legolas? Can you tell us what to expect?” asked Galadriel.

He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully so as not to spoil the surprise, yet he was also conscious of the fright factor – what he planned to do could potentially cause a panic and Glorfindel would need to be alerted to that fact.

“I will tell you what I can, for I will not spoil the surprise I have in store for you, Elrond, and indeed you, Galadriel, Celeborn. I would however, prefer to perform the demonstration before you make the proclamation, Elrond. Perhaps then, our skeptics will have been converted?

“It makes sense”, he retorted, nodding approvingly at the prince.

“But what can you tell us of the demonstration?” pressed Erestor.

“I will await the moment to carry out the demonstration, and though I will not tell you the nature of it, I must say this. You should be prepared for a possibly adverse initial reaction from the people, until such time that they understand what is at hand, they may be – frightened.”

“Frightened?” exclaimed Erestor, “Legolas, you are frightening me now, what….”

“Nay Erestor, I cannot. Please my friend, trust me.”

Glorfindel considered the prince’s word. He had not anticipated organizing a rotation for the ceremony, he would have to talk with Cormion…

“Will you take your place and dine with us before it is done?” asked Elrond, for he was concerned with the order of things, he had to make a proclamation after all.

“I do not think it a good idea. The atmosphere would make the celebration tense. I should wait to join you, once it is done, and the proclamation made, yet I cannot vouch for my mental state. Remember, I have never done this before, I do not know what to expect”, he confessed, looking over to Mithrandir, who was smiling fondly at him.

“Legolas”, began the wizard, “I know not the nature of this thing, although I have but a small inkling, yet it is important that you go with your feelings and intuitions, do not suppress them, even at the high table – do what you must, when you must”, he explained, watching as Legolas heard him, and nodded.

“Well this is a promising day indeed, I for one cannot wait!!” exclaimed Celeborn. The mood needed lightening, they were all far too solemn and introspective – this was cause for joy and he said as much.

“And you are right”, smiled Glorfindel, squeezing the prince’s hand as he stood. This is a day for celebration and jubilation, and I intend to enjoy every strange, magical, wonderful moment of it”.

“Well said!” guffawed Mithrandir. “Now, I am off to the gardens, I shall see you all at sunset.” And with that he was off, already fumbling in his pocket for his pipe and pack.

“Well, I should rest for a while”, said Legolas. What he really intended to do was inspect the contents of the chest that Erestor had retrieved from the forests on the night of his investment.

Standing, he met Glorfindel’s eyes, negating with his head that he should not follow, yet smiling in reassurance.

…………………………………………………………………..

He shut and bolted the door to his quarters, sitting on the bed and staring at the beautifully carved chest. It was big, longer than it was wide, all he had to do was get up and fling the lid back and that would be it. Yet the contents had been the object of much internal conjecture, he expected some sort of status object, a piece of jewelry, yet why was the chest so big?

Sighing, he moved over to it, kneeling before it and letting his hand slide over the swirls of wood and bone, running a finger over the roots and leaves, the small, beautifully rendered forest animals hidden between the carvings – it was unique, and exquisite, fascinating, for the more you looked at it, the more detail was revealed.

The latch was there, under his fingers. All he needed to do was push and the mechanism would be released.

With a metallic click, the bolt slid sideways, he was free to open the lid and push it back.

Placing one hand on each side, he slowly lifted the top, it was heavier than he had expected it to be – there, he had done it, it was open.

The box appeared to have several layers, for the bottom was clearly higher than the base of the chest. In this first ‘floor’ was a pile of cloth. Pulling at it, he held the first item up. It was a silken skirt of pale blue, but the front had been cut out – this would sit just above the knees at the front, between his legs, but it draped down to the ankles at the sides, reaching the floor at the back.

Reaching inside once more, he pulled out a heavy - over skirt? He was not sure how the attire should be combined, yet it was a spectacular item, for it had been made of individual velvet leaves, inlaid with silver on the underside - also in the shape of an inverted V at the front. The waistband caught his attention then, for it was a long, deep brown sash, meant perhaps to be wrapped around the waist several times, for it was lengthy indeed.

The last objects were the most stunning boots he had ever seen. Of soft brown leather, they were form fitting, inlaid with golden leaves around the ankles, in the fashion of bangles, he thought. They were long, way past the knees. Well, his lady seemed to want to show him off, and he would not gainsay her – he realized then, that he was to appear bare-chested before all – he was not shy, but even in the Greenwood, they would wear a sash of some kind, even if to cover one side of the chest.

Searching for the mechanism that would loosen this first base, he pulled it away, and gasped audibly, for there, lying over the blue velvet cloth, was a collection of jewelry, fit indeed for a king. His eyes widened as they trained in on a crown, or a head dress, he did not know what to call it, for it was enormous, bigger than any crown he had ever seen, even in the story books of old. He suddenly felt self-conscious, to wear this – it would be sheer vanity. Legolas wore jewelry, loved jewelry, but this – he knew he would need help with it. The sides were a mass of swirling roots of gold and silver, small, almost invisible carvings of birds and animals peeked out, becoming more visible the more he looked. There was a tiny nightingale with minute emeralds for eyes, a small rodent, a butterfly with sapphires worked into the open wings. The back had been clearly fashioned after the antlers of a stag, sweeping down to the shoulders. He was breathing hard now. This piece had not been wrought by any craftsman of Arda, this had been carved by the master himself, his lady’s spouse, Aulë. He turned his eyes back to the box, and realized its significance – it was the same design.

Setting it aside, he inspected the remaining pieces, trying hard to keep his eyes from the crown.

There were two golden vambraces that would cover his entire forearms, a bicep band of forest swirls that would weave around the arm, and then a nose to ear piece, a beautiful yet simple emerald for each extremity, joined by three chains of the thinnest mithril he had ever seen.

What more could there possibly be? For there was a final layer to reveal. He laughed when the thought of finding a list of instructions hit him as he removed the base – but what lay there took his breath away – it was a sword. His eyes bulged as all mirth left him. This was why the chest was so big. He lifted it out with both hands, the scabbard was of a brown leather with gold inlay, the pommel of mithril with gold twining. Gripping it with his sword hand, he pulled slowly, revealing the blade and the tengwar that had been engraved.

‘The Valar command you’.

The entire blade had now been revealed. It was long, and slightly curved, heavy for most, yet for him it was manageable, although he would have to train hard before he could use it he knew. He realized there were yet more etchings around the pommel.

‘Yavanna protects you’

Words had left him, he was overwhelmed, they had wanted something spectacular, had they not? Well they would get it, by the Valar themselves, they would get it.

It suddenly occurred to him then, that if there was any chance of him being ready for sunset, he would have to start now, for only the fitting of the crown would take a long while.

Walking briskly to the door, he left in search of Glorfindel.

He found him in the company of Elrond as they exited the library. Legolas’ face must have been a picture, for Elrond scowled and Glorfindel approached him, a concerned look clouding his joyous features.

“What is it? Are you well?”

“I am – uh, yes, just a little – I , Glorfindel, I need your help”, he squinted as he cocked his head to the side.

“Of course, tell me”.

“I need you to find Llyniel with all haste and come to my quarters as soon as you may.”

“Alright”, he nodded, turning to Elrond, smiling, and jogging away. Legolas remained there a moment as Elrond stared at him.

“I will see you later, prince” he said, smiling as he walked to his own quarters where Erestor awaited.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Glorfindel found the lady almost immediately, sitting near the front of the house together with Arwen. Approaching the ladies, he greeted them with a dip of the head, but his errand was urgent, and it must have shown on his handsome face.

“Lady Llyniel, your presence is required by your prince”, he said, holding her eyes, willing her to see the urgency of his request.

Her eyes widened for a moment as she calmed herself once more, rose and followed the warrior, bowing to the lady she had only just met, but who had impressed her so much.

Once they were out of earshot, she turned to Glorfindel as they walked briskly to the prince’s quarters.

“What is it?”

“Legolas requires us both, ‘tis all I know”.

A knock to the door and it opened almost immediately, he had been waiting for them, naked except for a soft towel covering his sex.

“Close it and bolt it”, he said succinctly.

Glancing at each other, they moved into the room, and pulled up as they took in the item sitting on the dresser.

“I cannot, I have never, what, this is… Legolas!”

“Indeed”, he said, raking his fingers through is long hair.

“What in all Arda”, began Glorfindel.

“My friends, there is no time, this, this thing will take a lifetime to fit, you must help me, for I will not make it, I have no idea what to do with this…”

Snapping out of the spell, he moved towards the prince, Llyn at his side as they sat him down and together, began their work.

Llyn picked up the crown and had thought to rest it upon his head, yet as she inspected the item more closely, she realized it would be better to slip it on, from the front. She instructed Glorfindel to pick up the twisted upper locks as she testing her theory, slipping it into place where it sat perfectly, the swirling roots lying just above his ears and extending towards the back, down to his shoulders. As Glorfindel released the mass of locks, Llyn showed him her idea of twisting the locks into the roots, without obscuring the carvings.

And so they both worked in harmony, twisting locks into the golden roots as they admired the mastery of the piece – every time Glorfindel looked he discovered a new detail to it, another animal, bird, leaf, root…

An hour later, Legolas sat looking at his reflection in the mirror, reminding himself that it was, indeed himself that sat there. His thick ropy hair had all but disappeared into the crown, leaving the soft silky underlayer to cascade down his back, brushing his hips. The result was spectacular, it would never have occurred to him to dress the crown in such a way, he had suspected it would take a lady to achieve it, for this kingly attire had been chosen by a female for a male.

Llyn stood back then, as if seeing the effect for the first time. What she saw was heart-breakingly beautiful, and she smiled widely, sharing it with Glorfindel who was beaming down at his lover, their lover.

“Come,” urged Llyn, as she reached for the underskirt, opening it at the waist for the prince to step inside. Once on, Glorfindel reached for the heavy overskirt, pulling it up to his trim waist and starting on the sash, while Llyn adjusted the cloth. The result was a long ankle length skirt which was cut at the front to mid-thigh, the light blue peeking out from the edges of the moss green. Legolas finally stepped into the perfectly fitting boots which hugged his muscled legs, disappearing under the skirts, but leaving a thin strip of bare leg, enough to entice any that dared to look. The sash wrapped around the prince’s abdomen twice, finally tying off at the back, trailing down to the backs of his knees.

Legolas himself placed the nosepiece, adjusting the parallel chains of mithril which hung low under his cheekbone.

The vambraces completed the heavenly attire, and although they had been dressing the prince for over an hour, they now stood back, hand in hand, watching as Legolas turned to face them. Glorfindel’s hair stood on end, his eyes watering as his mouth opened, breath accelerating, pulse racing, blood rushing in his ears.

……………………………………………………………

Musicians began to tune their instruments and the smell of exquisite cooking began to impregnate the house. The noise outside was growing louder, a sure sign that the guests were already congregating, searching for their assigned seats, conversing, speculating, gossiping. Legolas sat once more, turning to his friends.

“Go and ready yourselves, for you have not dressed yourselves yet.”

“Legolas, I would organize a small escort for you, if that is acceptable. A warrior to represent each nation. You mentioned the possibility of alarm, and although we know we cannot be at your side, or at least I suspect it, let us stay behind you…”

“Alright, but I will wait a while – give me an hour perhaps.”

They left with all haste, rushing down the corridor, Llyn darting into her quarters; luckily, she had already laid out her dress. Glorfindel would wear his ceremonial Gondolin attire, for tonight he represented the House of the Golden Flower, tonight he stood for his lost city.

After fifteen minutes, he left the room, headed for Llyn’s quarters, he would escort her, see the atmosphere downstairs, and then come back for Legolas.

Glorfindel and Llyn were the object of much chatter as they made their entrance in the gardens below. They were stunning together, the Gondolin warrior attire never ceased to amaze the citizens of Imladris, albeit he had perhaps worn it but two or three times. Llyn wore a beautiful light purple dress, a simple circlet holding her long locks at bay to the side of her lovely face.

Elrond hailed them to the table, where the lords sat drinking an original, minty aperitif that Brathiniel had created.

“Come, sit with us, what news?” asked Celeborn, leaning forward for the details – indeed it seemed to have rubbed off on Gildor, for he too, was avidly awaiting a reply – these two were fast friends, thought Glorfindel.

But before he could answer, Erestor interrupted.

“What was in the chest, Glorfindel?” Now, Elrond was leaning forward. Galadriel was hiding it, but she too was sitting slightly to one side. He would have to tell her about that nuance; it had obviously escaped her control.

“My dear friends, we warn you now, prepare yourselves for a shock to the senses…”

…………………………………………………………………………

The guests sat and observed as friends, colleagues and fellow rulers filed into the gardens, nodding and exchanging pleasantries with each other, yet there was not the jovial atmosphere typical of a formal banquet, especially in the Greenwood. Voices were hushed, conversations discrete, everyone keeping one eye on the doors to the house.

There were scores of elves lighting lanterns and candles. The weather was fair, and no breeze was to be felt – the air was static, expectant as dusk was gave way to darkness and the sky changed from deep red to dark blue, soon to change to milky black, for the Moon was full this night.

The stage was full of musicians and singers, all taking their places, sitting or standing, with or without instrument. Both Lindir and Amanthor were there, Lindir with his harp and Amanthor as conductor for the first part of their joint opus magnus. Tapping his stand as he stood firm before the imposing, multi-cultural orchestra and choir, he began the first tune. A sweet and soothing harmony for strings and woodwind, with soft contralto and soprano voices in a three-way descant. It was just the thing, thought Elrond, as he squeezed Erestor’s hand under the table, for it had begun and there was no turning back.

Immediately after this first lyrical piece, the rumbling vibration of Greenwood’s massive drums struck a slow, majestic rhythm that was eventually joined by a chorus of fiddles that struck a tune in minor, evoking sadness, yet strength and perseverance. As the chorus was repeated, the percussionists threw their sticks into the air, catching them dexterously before beating the drum once more, to the delight of all present who were participating with gasps and exclamations of surprise and delight. The atmosphere was relaxing. Gildor and Celeborn sat together, tapping their feet to the forest beat, a wide smile on their faces. Galadriel, however had sat with Elrond and her grandchildren, for she felt the urge to be with her family this evening.

Mithrandir sat to one side of Elrond together with his fellow maia, staff in hand, watching the treeline before the gardens.

Sometime later, Glorfindel stood, beckoning to Elladan whom he addressed as Captain. The dark elf understood immediately, Glorfindel was now his general, and he was being given an order.

“Marchwarden Haldir”, he said, catching the Lorien elf’s eyes, he too, understood immediately.

As Glorfindel began to retreat from the garden with Elladan and Haldir in tow, Glorfindel gestured to Galdithion who was sitting with his people.

“Will you join us, lieutenant?”

Galdithion stared, puzzled for a moment, until he realized he was being included in something important. Nodding to his friends, he rose, and left with them, followed by hundreds of eyes that all asked the same question. ’Where go the greatest warriors on Arda?’

…………………………………………………………..

A knock to the door brought Legolas back to himself, at least partially, as he bid his visitor enter, standing as he did so.

Glorfindel entered, smiling joyously at his lover, but the smile faltered as he realized that Legolas’ expression had changed. His face was devoid of emotion, yet he shone with a brilliance that was not normal, and his eyes, for the love of Yavanna, his eyes...

Shocked, he moved to the side, allowing his fellow warriors access into the room. They stopped dead in their tracks, while Galdithion sunk to his knees, yet unable to take his eyes of the outlandish vision before him.

……………………………………………………………………

The party was well under way when Galadriel visibly startled, stiffening as her nostrils flared, her eyes widening. Mithrandir had had a similar reaction, glancing sideways at Aiwendil, who was looking towards the doors - for he too was clearly reacting to something Elrond could neither see nor hear.

The music petered out as Amanthor and Lindir turned to the doors leading to the gardens, for this, surely was the arrival of the lord himself. Now was the time to start the herald they had composed together. Turning to his musicians once more, and feeling Lindir stand by his side, he began to conduct the piece that would be the highlight of their lives – Herald to the Forest Lord…
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The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests