Nestaron ar Maethor Healer and Warrior Chapter 1, a lord of the rings fanfic

Chapter 1 ~ Out of Greenwood

Tawar was still and silent in the secure embrace of the diminishing night, relishing the last lingering moments of velvet obscurity under its cool caress. Like lovers the two reposed, the forest and the night, intertwined as if inseparable, clinging to the comfort of familiarity and the promise of constancy, even as dawn drew near. Its advent would break all: the dark, the quietude, their seamless cohesion, Tawar and the night.

Above the treetops eventide's black, bejewelled mantle paled until just the Morning Star peered down. Beneath the boughs a fine white fog covered the toes of the trees, snuggling close against the land like a blanket tugged tight to ward away unwelcome day. They must part now for a time, the Greenwood and her sable suitor, but only for a time and neither faced the separation with sorrow, knowing their twilit reunion was mere hours hence.

The trees sighed, their leaf-clad branches whispering a gentle refrain of simple, unobtrusive joy, for the woods loved Ithil and Anor equally. The faint glimmer of dawn danced within the softly rolling mist arising from the rich brown soil, filling the serene tranquility with a radiant shimmer of subdued light. Soon, the frosty nimbus would dissipate, burned away in the rising heat of the early summer sun, but for now the graceful veil of moisture undulated in accord with the lilting breeze, an eery ballet of earth-bound clouds. The filmy haze shifted and billowed, now and again seeming to coalesce, taking on form and gliding in mimicry of the graceful tread of elven folk, as if disembodied souls tarried in the ether.

Mayhap it was true; so believed the mortals dwelling in the wooded vale. Perchance these houseless wanderers lingered in the silence of the night, revisiting the place they had most loved in life, their home for Ages out of time. Or did they arise solely to greet the dawn, a brief visitation to mingle their soundless serenade with the omnipresent Music of the waking world? This muted state of the woods was even more short-lived than the ephemeral fluff. The first warbling notes of an aurlinn (day-bird, a wood thrush) tripped through the luminous air above the vapours, the melodious tones distinct and challenging as the songbird declared the land his own. Far away to the west an answering cadence sounded, diminished by distance but clear and sweet. Morning broke through the barrier of leaves and shadow and drew the mist away; what ghostly phantoms it hid retreated.

The Greenwood's mighty hardwoods rose in unending ranks to the east and north and south, the pathways and byways betwixt them seemingly empty, yet it was not so. Slipping through the towering trees moved a small contingent of the sylvan people, clad in emerald and nutmeg to match the landscape, using the shadows like stepping stones to navigate the cloistered space. Fair were these folk as a hind is fair, clever were they as the wily fox, and deadly, their hands, as the hunting hawk's talons. They belonged to the woods and the woods belonged to them. Wild elegance clothed them; vigilance was their shield and the longbow their defence. Noiselessly they traversed the scene. No words fell from their lips and no impact did the land report in the passing of their feet, nonetheless the space around them was filled with a harmony of spirit that resonated within the bark and branches, the roots and leaves, encompassing all living things under the eaves.

This was no casual stroll designed to enjoy the renewal brought by Anor's return nor was it a hunting party seeking game for food. These were warriors of the Woodland King bound upon a mission of great import, one that would require them to leave the safety of their arboreal abode and venture out into the vast regions of open land beyond the verge of the weald. Single file they proceeded, passing through the forest as stealthily as light penetrates air, for who can see the footsteps of the wind? Leaves on a tree are to be expected; birds flitting from branch to twig rouse no wonder; water running in a brook belongs there. None of these things raise suspicion or concern and, unless one's specific intent is to study such, the ordinary attention the mind grants to these marvels is minimal.

So it was for the elves; they went where they would within their world and few among the forest's other inhabitants remarked their journeys. It was an entirely different thing to step forth into the wide, unsheltered grasslands along the broad banks of the mighty Anduin. Beyond the fringe of the forest, their simple garments lost the quality of camouflage; no inky shadows offered concealing shade; no welcoming limbs provided sturdy perches for rest. Once outside the cover of the trees, the elves would be exposed, starkly visible in a way few among them had ever experienced.

Before the day had advanced an hour, the troop of archers reached the borders of their country and halted. Bright and bold, the glare marking the boundary was more intimidating than a wall of stone. Twelve in number, they lined the brink of the bottom-lands, staring in a mixture of excitement and trepidation at the vast emptiness of the space before them. The immensity of the endless blue sky somehow made the flat and grassy lea seem paltry while at the same time the land went on and on.

There the gleam and sparkle of Anor danced on the swiftly running river's rills, dazzling eyes adapted to low-level illumination. To the south and north Anduin's course swept away beyond the limit of the elves' keen sight, heaven and earth mingling in an indistinct juncture of wavering uncertainty. West across the body of water the horizon was hidden by the imposing peaks of the Hithaeglir. A thin, straight track cut the valley, linking their comfortable haven to the unknown on the other side. Though these were hearty souls well trained in the arts of war, the vision was daunting. For a very long time, none of the elves moved forward.

At last two separated from the others, stepping into the open with purposeful strides. This spurred the remainder to action and thus all the Wood Elves emerged into the bright sunlight, shielding squinting eyes with long-fingered hands, their svelte forms haloed in Anor's golden glow.

"Here we part company," spoke the first to exit the woods. "Stay upon the road and you should reach Imladris in two week's time."

He was tall and comely with long chestnut locks bound back in braids from his high, white brow. Sharp brown eyes scanned their surroundings with both curiosity and caution as he spoke and his tone bore the air of one accustomed to command. Indeed, he was Celon'lîr (River Song), commander of the group and the eldest son of Thranduil, the Wood Elves' King.

"What? How so when you are bound to travel with us?" demanded one of the others.

He was not so lofty in stature but far the fairer. His features were so refined and noble that he was both the envy and the desire of many in the woodland realm, though his manner did not indicate any vanity over the fact. His hair was the pale golden colour of flax, restrained in warrior fashion to prevent entanglement in the bowstring, and his eyes were a vivid blue more vibrant than Arien's domain. He gazed in consternation at Celon'lîr, stepping boldly forward to challenge this new order as if he were equal to the elven prince's station. This he was, for the query came from Legolas, youngest in the party but also the youngest of Thranduil's children.

"We are turning south to Lothlorien," replied Celon'lîr, including his companion with a casual wave of his hand. "It is not necessary for all of Greenwood's princes to foster among the Noldor. Besides, I am past the age of such tutelage; there is nothing those haughty elves can teach me."

"Celon'lîr!" admonished his comrade brusquely. "Mind your words around Tuiw. (Sprout - a pet name for Legolas) Tôradar (brother-father: uncle) does not want him to adhere to such prejudicial notions whilst on this journey." This warrior was kin to the King's sons, being the eldest child of Thranduil's older brother. He was also Celon'lîr's boon companion and Ûrrusc (Fire Fox) was his name.

Celon'lîr and Legolas scoffed in unison, identical snorts of derision issuing from nostrils flared in unhidden contempt.

"What rubbish, Ûrrusc! Adar holds the same opinions regarding those crafty folk: they are unscrupulous, conniving, and unworthy of our esteem," Celon'lîr retorted. The rest of the soldiers affirmed their prince's disgust for the Noldor, several laughing outright and one spitting into the grass as if the mere thought of the foreign elves left an acrid taste upon his tongue.

"Aye," added Legolas. "The only reason he bid us go is to repay Lord Celeborn for the trouble his visiting march wardens caused. Had Orophin not permitted Adar's prized hunting hound to be set loose alone in the forest no reprisals would need to be made."

"I'm convinced none of the Lorien elves meant for the dog to be devoured by that warg," one of the warriors spoke up in the Galadhrims' defence. This was Faron (Hunter), another cousin to the princes, being the youngest son of King Thranduil's sister. Upon his parents' death at Dagorlad, Faron had become a member of the King's household and was just barely older in age, yet senior enough to the youngest prince, for the two to be friendly rivals while as devoted as brothers.

"This is Rumil's fault. He shouldn't have made that insensitive comment about the hound's lack of hunting prowess to so easily fall victim to the beast. But for that, Tôradar would have dealt with the unfortunate incident by making them clean the kennels for a month," stated Ûrrusc. "Instead, he orders them off to home and we are punished with banishment for the entire summer. We will miss the Solstice festival."

"Be that as it may, we have to be the instruments of Thranduil's revenge. Or at least Legolas and the rest of you lot must," said the King's heir. "Ûrrusc and I shall pay a visit to our kin to the south, so to ensure that our esteemed cousin Lord Celeborn the Wise receives a more direct form of reprisal." Without waiting for his sibling, cousins, or fellows to remark further, Celon'lîr raised thumb and fore-finger to his mouth and blew a shrill note into the brand new day. At once a bugling whinny replied, the subdued sound indicating the equine source of the cry was still beneath the trees, somewhere north of his master's position.

"Nay, Ernil, (Prince) do not abandon us! We need your guidance for none of us have been among the Noldorin folk before. How will we know what to do and what to say? Who will speak for us and command us?" complained a tall and willowy elf. His appearance was indicative of the Sindarin branch of the Teleri tribe with the exception of his hair. He boasted a beautiful mane of black streaked through with bright snatches of shining yellow, of which he was quite proud. So vain was he about his uncommon tresses that upon his majority he had renamed himself in their honour: Mallavorn (Black and Gold).

"Elo!" (Hey!) fumed Legolas. "I am a prince of the realm, too. Have faith in my ability, Mallavorn."

"I mean no offence to you, Legolas, but you are still so inexperienced." Mallavorn bowed in apology but did not retract his words. "If things go wrong, we may cause a war to break out."

"That is ridiculous," snapped Legolas. "The Noldorin elves haven't done any kinslaying since the last silmaril was found. It is more likely that Lord Celeborn is using us to rile his esteemed ion-an'weath (son-by-bond), Elrond Half-elven."

"Again, forgive my forthright speech, Tuiw, but that is ridiculous," Mallavorn intoned with deep scepticism. "I doubt Lord Elrond knows anything about the hound incident. Surely you aren't suggesting he plotted the whole disastrous hunt?"

"Do not call me Tuiw." Legolas favoured the unfortunate warrior with his best Thranduil impersonation: legs firmly planted, shoulders squared, fists resting on his hips, and a thoroughly infuriated scowl marring his features. The effect of menacing authority was somewhat reduced by the fact that the younger prince was forced to glare up into his antagonist's face.

"Of course he didn't know!" fumed Faron, hastening to his cousin's aid. "Yet Celeborn can't send Haldir and his brothers to foment trouble in Imladris every time the twins show up in Lorien and wreak havoc."

"So he sends them here instead? How is that either practical or logical?" scoffed Mallavorn.

"It isn't, but it is devious and unexpected. Celeborn knows Tôradar will not send us to Lorien because he can't stand Galadriel and thinks she is immoral and would be a bad influence on our development," Ûrrusc elaborated.

"Exactly, and by sending us to Imladris, Hîren Adar ensures that Celeborn will receive another protracted visit by his grandsons," smirked Celon'lîr. "They probably left for Lothlorien as soon as the message from Greenwood arrived. It wouldn't do for us to best them in their own lands for all their kin to see."

Now all the warriors grinned, for everyone remembered the previous summer when the sons of Elrond had come to the Woodland Realm to hunt Orcs with Thranduil's sylvan archers. Competition between the Lords of Imladris and the Princes of the Forest had been intense and much sport had been derived from their contest to see who could destroy the most goblins. Being far more skilled with the bow and far more experienced with fighting under the trees, Legolas had placed first and his brother second, shutting out the Noldorin Elves entirely. Elladan and Elrohir had not been pleased and had departed in high dudgeon, for Lorien no less, with empty purses and minus a very fine dagger that Celon'lîr now wore at his belt. What tale they may have told there was perhaps a factor in Celeborn's decision to send the March-wardens to harass his regal cousin.

"Furthermore, it is likely that the Lord of Imladris knows Celeborn is behind the unexpected visit from Greenwood's royalty. Haldir told me all about their manners, meaning the lack of any save bad ones, when in the Golden Wood. Even when they are in good humour they find it amusing to annoy their Minya'mmë (grandmother) and torment their thêl dithen. (little sister) When they are in poor spirits, they more resemble the sons of Feänor than the sons of Elrond. The Lady Galadriel's tempers are equal short and terrible. She does not not confine her displeasure to giving her beloved grandsons a gentle reprove; everyone suffers once she is fully irritated, Celeborn especially so," remarked another disgruntled sylvan.

This elf was called Filigod (Little Bird), an appellation bestowed by his Naneth during his elfling years that had stuck quite firmly, though the intrepid fighter was a seasoned veteran of innumerable battles, taller than any of his cohorts on this venture, and older even then Thranduil. His great stature, noble bearing, and a gift of persuasion had won Filigod a place among the king's most trusted envoys. Filigod made many trips abroad to negotiate with woodsmen in the central forest, the townsmen of Esgaroth, and the Beornings along the shores of Anduin. He had even travelled as far as Rohan to bargain with the horse lords for breeding stock. Among the Second-born, however, Filigod went by his official title: Condir O Gladgalen (Mayor of Greenwood).

"Maybe that is true but we are not to be toyed with thus; pawns manipulated in a petty squabble," said Celon'lîr. "That is why we are dividing. Hîr Adar mín (our Lord Father) instructs us to behave in a manner neither the Galadhrim nor the Noldorin Lords will imagine. Tuiw, that means you must all be on your very best behaviour."

"What say you?" Legolas was not pleased to hear this, having already devised several clever misadventures with which to upset the complacent population in the valley of the Bruinen. "I will not spend months taking tea in fussy drawing rooms, attending hideously boring council meetings, or singing silly songs in their sumptuous salons." His eyes narrowed as he observed his brother's insolent smirk. "Nay, I don't believe that order comes from Adar at all. You are trying to distract us from the truth. Cel, you are going off carousing and galavanting and you don't want Adar to find out. That being so, you will have to take us with you."

The mood of the warriors grew tense as this came to light and none doubted the younger prince was right. The Wood Elves waited grimly to see which of their lords would prevail for their lot over the course of the journey depended on the outcome. If Celon'lîr deserted then the rest of them would be forced to endure the scenario depicted by Thranduil's youngest. In the unlikely event Legolas succeeded in blackmailing his brother, the elves would all spend a grand holiday carousing and galavanting among the Galadhrim.

"I don't know where you get such ideas, Tuiw," Celon'lîr shrugged. "Even if your accusation was not a wild flight of fancy, I couldn't take you along. The letter to Imladris was sent months ago; if you don't arrive then Adar will be placed in a most unpleasant diplomatic position with the Noldorin Lord. It would be a terrible insult to promise the visit and then renege. Do you wish to be the one to explain to Hîr Adar mín why such an unwarranted affront was perpetrated upon the noble lore-master?"

"That won't work, Cel. I can simply send Filigod to report your transgressions while the rest of us continue on and fulfil our obligations to the foreign elves," sneered Legolas, determined to ensure his brother did not benefit if he must suffer.

By this time two fine horses had emerged from the trees and stood awaiting their riders. Celon'lîr and Ûrrusc proceeded to outfit the chargers with their packs, clearly unpurturbed by Legolas' threats.

"Nay, I can't permit you to send him back; this is your first time away from home and you will have need of his counsel. The success of the mission depends upon it."

"The success of your mission, you mean," Legolas scolded. "If Filigod returns to the stronghold your deception will be uncovered. As for leaving Greenwood, you have never travelled beyond the mountains either. What will Adar think to learn that you left his youngest child to navigate the dangerous passes without you? I wonder what Adar will do about that? I don't believe he will be pleased with your disobedience."

The elder prince stopped what he was doing and stared over his shoulder at his little brother, presenting a bland expression lacking the worry and dread the younger prince had hoped his ultimatum would produce.

"Spare no concern over my fate, muindor laes, (baby brother) for Filigod is going nowhere save to Imladris with you." The King's Heir turned and graced the learned envoy with a rather chilling smile. "By virtue of your valiant courage in battle, your innumerable years in service to our King, and your undeniable talent for talking, I name you captain of the company and protector of Legolas, Prince of Greenwood. Guide him safely through the passes, Filigod, and keep him from inciting mayhem among the staid and stodgy Noldorin elves. Do not fail in this trust."

"AI! I am not a child! I am ten years past my majority and have no need of a protector," Legolas retorted, glaring fiercely when this pronouncement elicited several snickers and indulgent smiles from the senior members of the small party. It was obvious they all considered he had brought upon himself the indignity of acquiring a baby-sitter.

"It is your own doing, Tuiw, and I thank you for reminding me of my filial and fraternal duties," laughed Celon'lîr as he resumed outfitting his horse.

"I will do my utmost to fulfil this charge satisfactorily; yet I remind you, Ernil Vain, (Pre-eminent Prince) that your brother is correct. He is of an age to make his own decisions and I am as duty-bound to obey his commands as yours," Filigod sighed grimly. Truly, this was no honour the heir bestowed but a cruel punishment. Legolas had an unerring gift for turning even the most benign occasion into a cataclysmic nightmare of chaos and ruination. Filigod did not want the blame for whatever was about to happen falling on his shoulders. "I must also report that the King expressed his wish for Legolas to take on more responsibility in this task of avenging the death of the hound. He has pre-approved two of the Ernil Daid's (Secondary Prince) schemes."

Celon'lîr and Ûrrusc shared a merry glance and poorly suppressed giggles as they mounted up and then Thranduil's oldest shrugged once more.

"Indeed, Adar is wise, for Tuiw is to be the principal weapon of destruction employed. Try as he might, Legolas can't long abide courtly ostentation and confinement indoors. In fact, the harder he tries the more explosive will be the eruption of his true nature. He is guaranteed to turn the refined and peaceful mien of the Last Homely House upside down. I almost wish I would be there to witness it."

Now this sparked a collective groan of dread and anxiety from the rest of the warriors. For all the amusement the younger prince's adventures granted in the retelling, it was not so diverting to be caught up in them first-hand.

"Avo!" (Don't!) Legolas' eyes flashed dangerously and his stare prevented any coherent complaints from arising amid the ranks.

He was, after all, Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Greenwood, and they were members of the Royal Guard, sworn to protect him. With both Celon'lîr and Ûrrusc decamping to go revelling in Lothlorien, he was also now their Lord for the duration of their stay in Imladris. This realisation promptly sobered the soldiers, for they were loyal to their royal rulers and truly respected Legolas' ability in battle. Many a time his skill had saved their lives while they were busy trying to shield his.

"Good, I am glad we are all in agreement," remarked Celon'lîr coolly as he surveyed the elven archers. It was his province, as older brother, to tease Legolas unmercifully, but others did so in his hearing at their peril. "Take care and heed Filigod's advice, Tuiw. I know you will do well but send for me if need is great. I will be travelling incognito under the pseudonym Giliach (Star Crossing). Adar expects us back before the Autumnal Equinox; we shall meet here ten days ahead of it. Namarië!" So saying, the heir to the throne gave a click of his tongue and a nudge of his heel and sent his horse cantering down the track, Ûrrusc right behind him.

"Namarië!" Legolas returned the farewell with a lift of his hand and watched them ride away. When the pair were too distant to hear him or observe his actions, he turned a speculative expression upon the rest of the group.

"Now then, before we embark I have a few announcements to make. First: henceforth, you are not to call me 'Tuiw' at any time for any reason. Second: I have no intention of suffering through an endless program of boring council meetings and tiresome political social gatherings. Faron, I am assuming your identity and you shall play the part of Prince Legolas."

"What?" squawked Faron. His cousin had not discussed this with him in any of their late-hour scheming sessions.

"That is inadvisable, Ernil," cautioned Filigod. This was exactly the sort of thing that could create a disaster. "The official document indicated that both of Thranduil's sons would journey to Imladris. Your brother has been short-sighted in his plans this time, for Elrond will alert Aran Thranduil at once, fearing some dread fate has befallen the heir. The best you can do is explain honestly what Celon'lîr has done and let him face the consequences of his foolishness."

Legolas bristled indignantly and drew back his shoulders proudly. "I have never tattled on Cel and I have no plans to turn nâr (rat) now," he said. "Further, I command all of you to uphold the subterfuge until I revoke the order. As for Ernil Vain, Mallavorn shall be Celon'lîr's doppelganger. You, Filigod, shall be there to make certain he and Faron do nothing that would injure our realm's status, insult the foreigners overtly, or demean Adar before the Noldor."

"Why, Tu Legolas, I am gratified by your confidence in me; however, the Gwanûn will know the truth and reveal us. I have no wish to appear so foolish before Lord Elrond." Mallavorn objected, managing to imbue his words with a thick layer of toadiness despite the contradiction.

"True, but they may not be in Imladris at all." Legolas thought on the likelihood of the twins' presence for a moment as his loyal warriors waited to learn their fate. At last a bright smile lit the young prince's eyes. "No matter, that will work to our advanatge. See here, we will proceed as I have said and if the Gwanûn are there we will simply leave aside the ruse and challenge them to another contest. Once we've soundly beaten them again before all their friends and family, no doubt Lord Elrond will feel the visit has been long enough and send us away. With Hîren Adar not expecting us until Iavas, we can then journey to Lothlorien and join Cel, or should I say Giliach, in his most enjoyable diversions and revels.

The soldiers hesitated to voice their opinions on this plot, for while it certainly sounded grand to get away to Lorien and the company of the fair Galadhrim, they were too aware of Legolas' propensity for attracting disaster. They glanced to Filigod with pleading eyes, beseeching deliverance from certain doom.

"Not to be disloyal, Ernilen, but I must point out that just because you bested Elladan and Elrohir once does not mean it will happen again," cautioned Filigod. "They are worthy warriors and skilled fighters. In Greenwood you had the greater experience in fighting beneath the trees but in Imladris they will be favoured."

"Well, I am not going to refuse a challenge just because I might not win," stated Legolas. "If we lose the match, Lord Elrond will probably send us away all the same, for he will see it as sufficient humiliation to have gained the advantage over Adar, especially if we act the part and play it up a bit. We then go forth to Lorien as planned."

"What if Lord Elrond sends a message back to the King to forewarn him of our return?" queried Faron.

"We can overtake the messenger and retrieve the letter," answered Legolas. "Now, no more excuses, we will do as I have said and that is final. Filigod, I am waiting," Legolas assumed his most obnoxiously imperious manner and glared with aristocratically arched brows for his advisor's oath of fealty.

The envoy's scowl was truly vile but had no effect whatsoever on Legolas. "As you wish, Ernil," he growled and turned his back upon Thranduil's youngest child. "I will abide by this command, unwise though I deem it to be. Mayhap you will learn much from the outcome."

With his compliance given, the other soldiers mumbled their oathes of obedience half-heartedly, knowing full well they would regret them before summer's end.

Now that these minor details were arranged to Legolas' saisfaction, the Wood Elves set off across the valley, making for the High Pass through the Hithaeglir and the wide world of the west beyond.

TBC

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
Elvish names and such:

Celon'lîr (River Song - Thranduil's eldest)
Ûrrusc (Fire Fox - Thranduil's nephew)
Tuiw. (Sprout - a pet name for Legolas)
Faron (Hunter - also Thranduil's nephew)
Mallavorn (Black and Gold - one of the warriors)
Filigod (Little Bird - Thranduil's councillor)
Condir O Gladgalen (Mayor of Greenwood - Filgod's Official Title)
Giliach (Star Crossing - Cel's false identity while in Lorien)
Tôradar (brother-father: uncle)
Hîren Adar (My Lord Father)
Hîr Adar mín (our Lord Father)
Ernil (Prince)
Ernil Vain, (Pre-eminent Prince)
Ernil Daid (Secondary Prince)
ion-an'weath (son-by-bond - son-in-law)
aurlinn (day-bird, a wood thrush)
Minya'mmë (grandmother)
thêl dithen. (little sister)
muindor laes, (baby brother)
nâr (rat)

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.