Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2096 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
Author’s note. Please read the series in the correct order, otherwise you will be lost.
The Protégé
Training Day
Protect and Defend

The water felt so very good, inviting him to lean back so that it covered his shoulders, infusing his senses with the aromatic oil that someone had kindly added to it. It was still only late afternoon, two full days after the near tragedy in the forests, and already things seemed to be slipping back into normalcy. He supposed that that was mainly due to the Sylvans, so accustomed to this kind of event that it formed an every-day routine, almost. He had heard this said by others, and even by Legolas himself, he had heard it but he had not digested it in any shape or form; what a hard life they lived, and yet they must love their land so much as to sacrifice themselves and their sons to harsh, vivid, frightening warfare. If anyone needed these military alliances that the festival strived to achieve, it was the Greenwood.

He leant back even further, wetting his hair and reclined again, only to hear a soft knock on the bathing room door. Guessing correctly that it was Erestor, he bid him enter.

The dark elf perched himself on the edge of the bath, looking down lovingly at his companion.

“Feel better?”

“Valar, yes, what would I do without you, my beautiful Erestor?”

“Oh come now, you would manage, yet I do it gladly, this you know.”

And he did, for although this elf came across as distant and stern, there was nothing further from the truth. He was the paradigm of generosity, passionate yet tempered enough to make him an excellent diplomat, an even better friend, and an imaginative lover.

“You are troubled”, stated Erestor; it was not a question.

“You are intuitive, as always”.

“Tell me, then.”

“’Tis Legolas, Erestor. I am trying hard to fathom my feelings for him, yet it is such a strange thing, for I have never had a relationship such as this one. I know that Glorfindel is falling for him, although he has not confessed this to me yet. I myself feel for him as deeply as I do for Celebrian, and yet the nature of it is different. He is my lover, yes, and there is passion, and love of a kind, yet it is not what I feel for my mate, Erestor. ‘Tis such a strange thing, but I feel a bond with him, it feels so right to be with him, with or without the sex, although preferably with”, he added with a smile. “

“You feel as if you have always known him; that without him, there would be something fundamental missing from your existence.”

“Yes”, he answered, for Erestor had put his finger on exactly how he felt, yet how could that be?

………………………………………………………………………………….

His recuperation had been short, and he was finally beginning to regain his strength, no small thanks to his three friends, who had coddled him to no end. He had truly felt like a decadent prince, lounging in luxurious abundance, and he had enjoyed it all. Yet he was restless and longed to test himself. He knew he would not be on top form for a few days, but that was not so bad, had he been in the Greenwood however, it would have been bad news indeed.

Brushing out his hair, he remembered the conversation he had had with Galadriel, just the day before. She had surprised him, pleasantly in fact. Yes she had lived up to her reputation and had been nothing if not direct with her questions, but her heart was intact, she was of the light and he had seen her worth. And then Celeborn; he smiled then as he remembered how the great, wise lord had splashed and played in the water with Elrond and Glorfindel, elated that the weight of time and experience had not taken the spark from him.

The end of that languid day of rest and recuperation had been strange, for he had heard a voice, as clear as if it came from Galadriel herself, which said, “You will make me jealous”. Yet no one else had heard it, leaving only one possibility as to its author.

Was this the sign he was waiting for? Should he reveal all on the strength of one simple sentence? He was not sure. And so he decided he would wait and hope that his protector would make the matter a little clearer, more explicit, for there was much to lose should he be wrong.

A knock on the door revealed Glorfindel, who strode over to the stool where the prince perched, brushing through his drying hair.

“Allow me?” he asked, although he had already taken the brush from the smiling prince’s hands.

Sinking the brush into the roots at the crown of his head, he began the slow, rhythmic movements of drying and shining his love’s hair. Legolas tilted his head back and closed his eyes, pleasure infusing his scalp and spreading down his neck, directly to his genitals.

The warrior was transfixed by the texture and colour of the prince’s hair; he could stay here, brushing the glorious silk until the end of days, but that was not to be, for he had come to Legolas with a purpose.

“Legolas, Elrond and Galadriel would invite us to tea in Celebrian’s gardens”, he said, watching Legolas for his reaction to being in that dead place again.

“An invitation I cannot refuse; will you come?”

“If you ask it, it will be done”, he smiled, moving towards his beautiful love, pressing a soft yet demanding kiss to his plush lips, a kiss that was returned with passion.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Down in the private gardens, tea was being served on a stone table, surrounded by trees and bushes that were brown and shriveled, yet the place still held an enchantment about it, shady corners, towering trees, bushes, flower beds, rose bushes, creeping vines, a beautiful pond, devoid of life – the architecture was stunning, yet it was ailing, almost dead, for the flowers would not bloom, and a blight marred the leaves of tree and bush, no animals scurrying between the branches, burrowing, chirping or chattering. Yet Elrond felt strangely comforted here, for his mate’s essence seemed to linger about the place, he felt her here as he did in no other place.

Galardriel observed him, as a myriad of emotions played across his wise yet stern features. She loved the elf for the happiness he had brought to her only offspring, her daughter, her dearly loved and sorely missed child.

Glorfindel arrived then, with Legolas in tow. He looked better, she thought; rested and of healthier complexion. He seemed relaxed and happier than he had over the last few days, less burdened by duty and destiny. She nodded kindly at him and was glad that her good will was returned by him.

All sat around the table as tea was poured and Celeborn reached for a sticky bun that was crying out to him.

“I should put it out of its misery, ‘tis the kindest thing to do”, he said magnanimously as he took a massive bite out of the soft, creamy pastry.

“I agree”, stated Legolas, “sometimes one must be cruel to be kind, I shall put this one out of its misery” he said, devouring a cream cake he had been eying since before he had sat at the table.

“Umf”, said Celeborn, his mouth still full of the fluffy pastry. “rrrrrffouofenoa”

“What was that?” asked Elrond, as he reached for a lemon fairy cake.

Chewing and swallowing, Celeborn repeated his unfortunate attempt at a sentence.

“I said, ‘ tis the merciful bite”, if you can’t help it, kill it, spare it a life of misery!”

Legolas snorted through his nose, narrowly avoiding a chunk of cake from flying out of his mouth.

Well well, thought Erestor. Sprits were relaxed and at ease today. He was enjoying this day, for the lords of Imladris and Greenwood were getting along just fine – good, he thought, for the future surely held great trials for them all, facing it together would make that task so much easier.

The tea was consumed, and light, easy banter was shared. Moving from their seats at the table, they found themselves under the eaves of the ailing trees, under which Legolas would not sit, even Mithrandir seemed loathe to approach them. Glorfindel sat beside him as the others took a shaded spot against the thick trunks.

Just then, a squirrel scurried before them, wagging its bushy tail and chattering as it ran up the trunk Elrond leaned against, startling him.

“What is this!” he exclaimed loudly. “A squirrel!, I have not seen a living creature in these gardens for centuries.”

Legolas turned his enquiring eyes to Elrond then, locating the skittish creature, balancing himself on the edge of a sagging branch, standing on its back legs and chattering wildly.

Galadriel exclaimed then, as a robin flittered over to Legolas and perched on his shoulder, chirping its song happily into the princes pointed ear.

Glorfindel frowned then, for he was reminded of that morning when a robin had entered their chambers and sang into the prince’s ear, rubbing its beak against his soft cheek.

A field mouse appeared at Legolas’ feet, twitching its nose as it rubbed its forelegs together then over its ears.
The robin had fluttered over to the sentinel that Legolas had so deftly avoided, perching itself on a large branch. It was swiftly joined by the field mouse, sitting beside what should have been his enemy.

Elrond was, by now, standing as he observed the scene playing out before him. This was not normal, something was happening, but what? Erestor walked up beside him, looking askance at his lord, but Elrond had no answers, for the lord himself was looking at Mithrandir inquisitively. The wizard simply held up his hand in a signal to wait, as he stared expectantly at the protégé.

Galadriel had stiffened, her nostrils flaring as she sensed magic, for a deep vibration was pulsing around them, from the ground itself it seemed.

Legolas moved into a kneeling position, placing his hands upon his thighs and opening his mind to the dead garden, he knew the risk he took, but the events merited it, for a squirrel and a robin sat perched side by side in the branches of the sentinel that had conveyed to him the agony of Celebrian, and a field mouse sat at his heels. He needed to communicate with them, listen to them, for it seemed they had a message for him.

His eyes turned green then, as he heard it again.

“You will make me jealous, Legolas”.

And then the noise began. First the squirrel, then the robin, the tree, the bushes, the roses, the mouse, animals and fauna from further afield, the very ground itself, a cacophony of voices shouting words, sounds, emotions, simple notes and complex polyphony that grew so loud that Legolas’ ears began to pulsate, then vibrate, sending waves of pain through his head as the deafening choir hammered into him. They were shouting at him, it seemed. Each expressing the message in its own way, raising its voice above the others in order to be heard. Legolas pressed his hands over his sensitive ears, yet they would not be silenced.

The other elves could only stare on, for the air crackled with energy and Legolas kneeled as if in a trance, protecting his sensitive ears from something only he could hear, brow furrowed, eyes closed.

Galadriel gasped audibly then, for she saw the face of a striking elf before her, a mischievous smile upon her beauteous visage, placing a finger before her lips in a plea for silence; what she did not know is that the maia had seen the same vision as he closed his eyes and concentrated, opening them again and smiling in awe.

Curling into himself now, Legolas increased the pressure over his ears, for the pain was turning into agony, yet they would not stop. Elrond was tempted to run over to the prince and help him, for he was suffering visibly. Glorindel simply sat by and watched on. He understood that this was not the time for protectiveness, but silent support.

Celeborn watched his wife. He knew that if she was calm, then he could relax, and vice versa, of course. Yet she was watching on, her eyes slightly more open and rounded than when she was relaxed, she was not alarmed though, she was surprised, and a little shocked.

When would it stop, thought the prince, or perhaps it wouldn’t. And then he realized that they were trying to tell him something he just was not grasping. He tried to concentrate through the pain, for he thought he had detected a structure to the chaotic noise. And so he began to channel the voices, looking for the words and emotions each had in common, almost like picking out the ingredients of a sauce.

“Rejoice”

“The bearer of fruit”

“Kelementari”

“Palurien”

He could not have asked for a clearer sign, it was time, there was no longer any doubt.

And so, still in a trance-like state, he mumbled the words he had waited four years to reveal.

“She comes”

Galadriel was shocked for she knew of whom he spoke, although she had been asked to keep silent. It would be a momentous sign, an event the likes of which no elf on Arda had witnessed, and so she knew that the reason must be powerful indeed. Looking back over to the kneeling elf, she felt her perspective suddenly change, not that she had underestimated him, yet she now saw him in a different light, the mother-son relationship that had been developing had changed, into what, she knew not.

Legolas had now opened his eyes, the irisis indistinguishable from the whites, just vibrant green mist. He slowly removed his hands from his ears as he heaved a great audible sigh.

Glorfindel touched his shoulders then but Legolas did not acknowledge it. Elrond also moved closer, kneeling in front of him, Erestor and the lords of Lorien behind him, all waiting for the prince to show some sign of coming back to himself.

Mithrandir walked over to them then, standing behind the still kneeling prince.

“Give him a moment, don’t force him out of it.”

And so they waited, as the prince slowly regained his conscience of the physical world. Blinking his eyes rapidly, his body finally relaxing itself as he tilted his head back, closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them again and fix his blue eyes on the friends that surrounded him.

“Are you alright”, asked Elrond, reaching out his hand to touch the side of the prince’s head.

“I will be”, he said then, almost in a whisper, for he was still shaken by the ordeal.

“Will you tell us what has happened?” asked Glorfindel as he searched his lover’s eyes.

“Aye I will tell you, come close”, he requested, gesturing for them all to join him on the floor, for he did not feel like rising just yet.

“Elrond, Glorfindel, – you remember the first time we spoke and I told you of my ability to communicate with animals and plants, I told you then that there was more to the tale, but that the time was not ripe.”

“I remember it well, Legolas, and we did not insist for you were adamant about it, yet we all understood that the missing piece would be important – this we knew” explained Elrond.

He looked long and hard at each of his companions then, judging their state of mind, and what they may or may not have deduced.

“At the Spring Festival in Greenwood, four years ago, something happened that changed my life, and my people were witness to it. They do not speak of it for they were not at liberty to do so, yet although it happened to me, you would do well to ask my people, for they saw more of it than I.”

“Go on”, urged Erestor, enthralled by the tale that was finally being unraveled.

“I was visited by she who protects me. She revealed to me that I had been chosen to do her bidding, and that by accepting to do so, my destiny would be intimately entwined with the light of her progeny, the fate of the trees, of all trees, would depend on me – in that I would do her bidding, and in the doing of it, achieve another goal. I cannot say what she meant, not fully, for although I have deduced some of it, my future is still unclear to me.”

He paused here, for he needed to know what impact his words were having.

“So,” began Glorfindel. “You are protected by, by whom?”

Galadriel spoke then, her face placid, her eyes ablaze. “Yavanna, he is the protégé of Yavanna.”

Glorfindel, Celeborn and Erestor whipped their head round and faced the lady, trying to comprehend the simple sentence she had just uttered.
But Elrond had an odd expression about him, looking down to the side as if remembering something.

“Elrond, do you know of what I speak?”, asked an intrigued Legolas, it had never occurred to him that the lore master would be able to shed light on the matter that had plagued him for years.

I will confess to you, Legolas, that I had a vision some days ago. Glorfindel and Erestor were witness to it, and I had thought to mention it once the tale was revealed. I was waiting for you to speak, and now that you have, this is what I saw.

Galadriel leaned forward then, preparing to memorize each word that Elrond would utter.

You were shining with the light of the Valar, the light spoke to me of nature and its importance to the future of Arda. It spoke to me of trees, of two trees and a catalyst, he whispered. I saw you standing proudly before a withered tree, and a white blossom rested against your chest, and then, I saw the eyes of my brother, happy, smiling and contented, as if some purpose had been fulfilled.

Legolas gasped audibly then, for something vital had clicked into place. His hairs stood painfully on end as his eyes watered, not from sadness or pain, but from complete and utter shock.

“What is it? Asked Mithrandir urgently, for he had seen the piece fall into place.

“I knew I had been chosen for a task set by the Valar, I knew a part of what that meant – the protection of the forests of Middle Earth, just as the Ents were and still are empowered to do. Yet I have been troubled by what that implied, who was my destiny tied up with, what was the purpose within the purpose?”

They stared on as the riddle was slowly worked out, in some cases confirming what they already knew and in others, revealing startling news that would require immediate attention.

“’The light of her progeny’” said Legolas, thinking out aloud. “The light of the two trees, Galathilion, of course! And the one that stands for freedom and unity of all the races on Arda”, he paused here, for he could hardly believe what he was about to say, yet it was true, he felt it in his very soul, “The White Tree. The White Tree of Gondor.”

“But wait”, said Celeborn, trying to get his head around the conundrum. “You are to protect the White Tree of Gondor?”

“Nay, not protect, restore, Lord Celeborn. Restore its blossoms”.

“But that is not possible!” cried Elrond. For to do so implies the return of the king, only then can it blossom.”

Legolas held Elrond’s gaze for long minutes, watching as comprehension slammed into him with the force of a charging steed.

“And the king, is your kin, Elrond. It was not Elros’ eyes you saw in your vision, but his descendant, the future king of Gondor and Anor, hope for the future of Middle Earth.”
- 1
- 2
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

The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests