Hi, and welcome to 'More Than She Seems'. This is my first story on the Internet, and I really do hope you enjoy reading it!

Rated T for adult themes in later chapters.

Disclaimer: Basically, if you don't recognise it, it's mine. The name name 'Idril' (among a couple of others) is Tolkien's name, and Idril Celebrindal is one of Tolkien's characters. However, the Idril in this story not the same as nor related to Idril Celebrindal and is a completely original character.

-Laura.


MORE THAN SHE SEEMS

Chapter One

She stood silently; ignoring the mass of Elves in front of her, and absorbing the mild mossy feel of the deep forest. The massage of the dewy grass beneath her feet was mesmerising and relaxing, and more than anything right now, she longed to throw off her light shoes and romp around in the luscious blades of grass that surrounded her. Sweet Mirkwood music started playing, and her entire body came alive from the smooth, yet bright, melody. She craved to be like this, standing alone with naught but the music floating past her ears, forever…

"Idril!"

Her eyes snapped open, and she suddenly remembered where she was. Her eyes swept around the clearing, observing the skilful band and their music, and the graceful Elves that danced along with the rhythm. She looked over to her left where her enraged mother was hastily striding over to her, fire blazing in her eyes, and sighed quietly.

"Idril, I have been here waiting since dusk for you to dance with just one Elf, and you have not stirred even one inch from your standing place!"

"No one yet has asked me to dance, mother," replied Idril politely.

"That is because they think you are a silent spectator. I bring you here out of the goodness of my heart to help you find a suitor, and all you do is stand there like a tree," said Garhirel. Garhirel's normally pale blue eyes were now a deep shade of royal blue. "Now go out there and look pretty."

Idril was shoved harshly into the clearing where the festival was being held. She straightened her deep green velvet dress, and briskly ran her fingers through her dark brown hair. She examined the joyful Elves in their beautiful long dresses and smart tunics, swaying freely with the music and having a wonderful time - much unlike herself.

A hand abruptly fell on Idril's shoulder, and a head came to rest near hers.

"If you're lucky, perhaps you will be able to dance with the Prince," whispered Garhirel, a little too kindly for Idril's liking.

When Idril registered that Garhirel had said 'Prince', she glanced over to the Royal table, where the King Thranduil, Queen Irethel, Prince Legolas and other royals were quietly arguing. The debate ended when the Prince gave an exasperated look towards his father and strode out confidently into the middle of the clearing. He gave an absolutely beautiful Elf a perfect smile and led her out into the middle of the clearing to dance.

"The Prince will never desire a dance with me. Just look how happy he is with the Lady Alassea," said Idril, in an attempt to convince Garhirel to get the both of them out of the festival and Prince's presence, and heading home to her father and little brother. Garhirel nodded, and started walking away slowly. When she was three paces away from her daughter, she turned her head to face the weary Idril.

"You are right, no one would want you," she snarled, gave a mean grin, and then continued walking. This normally would have brought tears to Idril's eyes, but by now she had had lots of practice keeping an indifferent expression at times when her mother brought her down, which was not a scarce event.


"Please, no more father. I have danced enough."

"Legolas," stated Thranduil sternly. "I want you to find a wife, and here is a good place to encounter said consorts."

"I will not fall in love with them."

"When I wed your mother, we were not in love. Nevertheless, we are now," replied King Thranduil, and placed a caring hand over his wife's.

"You were forced to love," pointed out Legolas. Thranduil hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Yes, I was…" he started slowly. "Yet… everything has turned out splendidly. Were it not for me being 'forced to love' your mother, you would not have been born." Legolas just stared at the delicate white tablecloth trimmings.

"Please Legolas, dance with some more Elves. For me?" asked Legolas' mother, Irethel, with the sweetest smile she could muster. Legolas sighed, a long, fatigued breath escaping his lips. He looked up hesitantly towards his mother who was innocently tracing the pattern on the tablecloth with her elegant index finger.

"Thank you, Irethel," said Thranduil and looked expectantly at his son, his eyebrows raised. Legolas just shot Thranduil an exasperated look, quietly got out of his chair and randomly picked the next girl to dance with. He smiled mannerly at Lady Alassea, took her arm and led her out into the middle of the clearing to dance.

"What a good son we have," commented Thranduil and raised his goblet to his lips, keeping an eye on the excellently dancing Legolas.

"You are an admirable dancer my Lord!" complimented Lady Alassea, the only child of Lord Elrond's son, Elrohir.

"As are you, m'Lady," replied Legolas, only half-heartedly.

"Well, this is fun!" Alassea piped up randomly. Legolas just studied her excited face and gave a small smile. Alassea was definitely too young and naïve for him – he was closing in on 2500 years, yet she had not even reached two hundred. At last, after what seemed like an Age for Legolas, the song finished and he was able to be free of the young child. He trudged back to his father's table and slumped down in his chair.

"That's enough father, can we go home now?" asked Legolas wearily.

"Legolas, this is our festival and we do not wish to end it here and now," replied Thranduil, and took a small sip of his wine. When he saw the uneasy look on his son's face, he sighed and set his full goblet down on the table quietly and carefully.

"All right, Legolas, you can go home," said Thranduil. Legolas eyed him carefully.

"Thank you, father," he replied.

"However…" continued Thranduil, raising a hand. Legolas groaned.

"What are my conditions?"

"One last dance, Legolas. That is all I ask of you."


Idril watched in silence. She desperately longed to dance to the beautiful elvish music being played, and lark about in the trees, but she was far too shy to do so with so many unknown Elves present. More than ever she just wanted to dash away unnoticed to her beloved father and find that he was well, and then they could sit in the forest and talk to the trees for days. She started to close her eyes dreamily, but was interrupted by the sense of another Elf nearby. She turned her head lazily, expecting her mother, and opened her mouth to try to explain why she was not yet dancing. But instead of looking at her mother, Idril found that she was inches away from the Prince's handsome face.

"Greetings," said Legolas, and took her hand and kissed it gentlemanly. Idril was speechless, so Legolas had to talk for her.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked, and gestured towards the clearing with an outstretched arm. Idril's brain began working again, and she curtsied hurriedly.

"My Lord."

"I will take that as an acceptance then," said Legolas, smiling slightly. He offered his elbow, Idril took it, and he led her out to the clearing. The music started, Legolas lightly wrapped one arm around her waist and held her hand with his, and she placed her free hand on his shoulder. Slowly they started to dance, in silence, for Idril did not want to say anything that might possibly offend the Prince. Over his shoulder, she could see her mother smirking, obviously pleased with herself, so Idril quickly looked down to the ground. The silence finally ceased when Legolas spoke up.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Idril, your Highness," she replied, not looking at him.

"You are a fine dancer, Idril," he complimented. Idril looked him in the eye and the corners of her mouth lifted in an attempt to smile but truth be told, she was far too nervous to consciously move any muscle in her entire body aside from her legs. She figured that Legolas could probably sense her anxiety, because he tightened the grip around her waist a fraction, and smiled reassuringly.

"Where is your father?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. If he was going to have to suffer one last dance, he was at least going to have fun, and not dance stiffly the entire time. Idril looked down at the ground for a second, and then back at him.

"My father could not make it, my Lord."

"Oh? Why not?" asked Legolas, trying to keep her talking.

"He is ill."

"With what?" he asked, not noticing properly what she had just said.

"I do not know, your Highness."

"Oh."

After a brief period of serenity between the two, Idril suddenly found the courage to ask the Prince the question that had been on her mind from when they first started dancing. She watched her dress flow between her legs for a minute, thinking of how to start. She observed her rather plain shoes as they peeped out from the bottom of the velvet when she moved forwards, and the movement of the grass as Legolas' and her feet passed over the top of the blades. She lifted her head to look just past his head and drew in a breath.

"You do not remember me, do you, Prince Legolas?" she asked, being careful not to look him in the eye.

Legolas stared at her thoroughly, and Idril could feel his bright eyes cruising over her face.

"Tell me your last name, and I may remember."

"Súlorn, my Lord."

Legolas obviously thought long and hard about her name, as he furrowed his brow and he concentrated solely on her pleasant face.

"Idril!" he smiled.

"You remember?" she asked, astonished.

"Of course! We went to tutoring together, did we not?"

"Yes."

"Your father is Mablung, and he is the one who taught us all there is to know about the trees. That was thousands of years ago, please forgive me for not recognising you." Idril's eyes widened a little.

'The Prince wants my forgiveness?'

"Of course I forgive you," she replied, the tiniest smile escaping her lips. The music got a little faster, and Idril sank into the warmth of the music, the forest and the Prince. She completely forgot about her mother and all the other Elves in the clearing and just let herself be free, dancing along happily to the song, the Prince keeping her warm. When he spun her around, she was happy to oblige, and turned gracefully. Every now and then, she would look up timidly at Legolas and find that he too was staring at her, and she would blush and shyly look away.

When the song stopped, Legolas, instead of smiling and walking away, placed his hand delicately on Idril's soft velvet back and starting leading her towards the table around which his mother and father were sitting with their noble guests. Idril was slightly confused, but let herself be escorted by Legolas in the direction of the Royal family.

Queen Irethel leaned over to her husband, who was sitting proudly at the head of the table.

"It seems like Legolas is having fun."

Thranduil turned to Irethel and grinned.

"It certainly does. I am surprised – he seems to have taken more of a liking towards this unknown Elf than to the beautiful Lady Alassea."

"Hush, they are coming," whispered Irethel, looking obviously in the direction of Legolas and Idril, and cocked her head towards them. Thranduil followed her gaze and examined the incredibly dark haired Elf with curious eyes. She definitely was different from the other Elves of which Legolas could choose from – her hair was darker than any Elves' present, and she was most definitely not what one would call beautiful. Pretty, in her own way, but not spectacular.

"She is frightened," muttered Thranduil, and Irethel heard him.

"Be nice," warned Irethel. "Purely because she is not of noble blood does not mean we have permission to torment her."

Thranduil just sighed, stood up gracefully from his chair and strode over to Legolas and Idril. Legolas bowed when Thranduil reached the two, and Thranduil nodded his head.

"Father, this is Idril. Idril, this is my father, the King Thranduil," introduced Legolas. Idril curtsied deeply, lifting her dress with grace.

"King Thranduil, my Lord."

As she stood back up, Thranduil cupped her chin with his hand and studied her face. While close up, he could not describe to himself what it was that made her unremarkable, yet her face settled together to form a comely picture.

His eyes were dragged to fall upon her hair. She had long, wavy, dark brown hair falling softly over her deep green velvet dress. It twisted into slight curls at the bottom, the shorter strands resting delicately on her bosom, a little of which the dress allowed to be visible. He carefully scanned her face. She had slightly rosy cheeks, which settled nicely on her unblemished skin that was a fraction more healthy-looking than the normal pale elvish complexion. Her lips were redder than the usual pale pink of female Elves, and for a moment, he thought that indeed she might be human. However, the telltale pointed ears were not completely hidden by her hair and he knew that she was of the Elven race, but whether she was Sindarin or Silvan he was yet to determine.

Legolas stood motionless, watching his father inspect Idril. He was almost embarrassed by the way that Thranduil scanned her face, shallowly searching for any flaws. However, he saw that Thranduil was extremely interested in the girl, so decided to wait whilst his father analysed Idril's face. She had changed since he had last seen her, over two thousand years ago – she was taller of course, and her hair was slightly lighter than the near black she had had as a child. She had indeed grown prettier, but her eyes had unfortunately lost the twinkle that had brightened her face, and which used to fascinate the little Elf Prince.

Once Thranduil's eyes met hers, he knew immediately. Her gentle, yet panicked eyes were a rich dark brown, with natural flecks of gold and green scattered around the pupil. As he studied them, his eyes bearing heavily down on hers, he knew that she was most definitely Silvan. Nevertheless, something familiar was trapped in those eyes of hers - a secret, passed down through generations and the Ages. A secret which he should not know of yet did, and which caused an uneasy feeling that grew in the King's mind.

'Do not rush yourself. She may not be the one.'

"Father?" asked Legolas, breaking Thranduil's awed concentration.

"Child, are you of Silvan ancestry?" he asked, bringing his hand back down to his side, but not allowing his eyes let go of hers. She faltered, trying hard not to look away, but his intense watch became too much and she lowered her head in respect.

"Yes, m'Lord."

"Idril's father taught me when I was younger, you may know him," said Legolas. Idril looked up at the Prince, but Legolas was facing Thranduil.

"What is your father's name?" asked Thranduil. Idril shifted her gaze from Legolas to Thranduil.

"My father is Mablung; he worked for you as a private tutor for Legolas and myself. He taught us for over two hundred years, my Lord."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Ahh, of course, Mablung. I remember him. So he was your father?" asked Thranduil listlessly, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

"Yes, your Highness."

"Then you are Idril Súlorn. How are you, my child? How is your father?" asked Thranduil, his suspicions confirmed and the pieces instantly together, not that he liked the now complete puzzle.

"I have been fine King Thranduil, and my father is doing well," replied Idril.

"Oh, good. Well, we must be going. Until next we meet, dear Idril Súlorn," said Thranduil, walked back to his table. Halfway there, he turned around back at Legolas and Idril.

"Legolas, come, follow me."

Legolas turned to Idril, gently took her hand with his own, and she looked up at him, meeting his bold blue eyes with her warm browns. He opened his mouth slightly in awe when he noticed their remarkable colour, and hesitated before kissing her hand politely, not taking his eyes off hers for a second.

"I will make sure to see you again, Idril," farewelled Legolas and turned around and followed his father.

Idril lightly touched her right hand where he had kissed her, and realised that she had had more fun in that night than she'd had for a long time. Only one thing could spoil this perfect day – her mother. And who else did she see striding towards her, but Garhirel.


A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are very, very welcome.

I will definitely make sure to reply to anyone who leaves a review, as feedback is the greatest motivation and thus the reason this story exists. :)

Again, thank you for checking this story out. Hope to hear from you!

-Laura.