Thranduviel is a character I created because I love to create characters. Tolkien gave us so many great characters that creating one that meets that standard was a challenge. I needed a character that could face Tolkien's and have an independent and original viewpoint. Since I had created Thranduviel in the simplest sense for a previous work, building on her seemed to be a logical step. As you can tell, I also like to write long involved chapters. Read and Review if you please. This is the first serious FanFic I have ever had an audience read, and I enjoyed it far more than any of the parodies.
Notes on Translation: Any translated words with a * beside them are translated loosely and should not be read literally if you speak Elvish. Translations from Elvish to English are numbered [1a], [1b] and so on, with the chapter number, then sentence ID. Translations are found at the end of each chapter.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters except Thranduviel- she's kind of my pet character and I used her to give a truly and utterly outside view. All other characters belong to Tolkien, and his estate. Any events or people in this fiction are fictional and any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental and non-intentional. Events and concepts are Tolkien's for the main point and mine in the rest of the points.
Any comments can be directed to the reviews or to my e-mail (in my profile).
To see more of Thranduviel, check out my website through my profile and find your way to the Disney Interlude.
Mistakes have now been mended… I think…
Chapter One: An i-meleth o Gwador [1A] Thranduviel SpeaksI had been fixing the sheath on a pair of daggers when my youngest Brother returned from his talk from my father. The daggers had been a gift from my mother to her firstborn, and none had the heart to take them from me when Thranduil, my father, finally had a son. I was the only daughter in a family of six children, though I cannot believe I suffered a worse lot than my youngest brother. My brother closed the door behind him and stopped, standing still with his head hung. I took the daggers and sheaths in one hand and approached him, trying desperately to catch his gaze.
"Man agor pêd?[1B]" I said, softly against the tears I could not help but release. I was scared for a reason I did not understand. He looked at me, his eyes wet with unreleased tears and filled with fear and sadness. Their depth, the impenetrable blue that formed the window to his soul told me something I had dreaded hearing since the day my brother was born; "He is sending you away."
He turned away, no words left his mouth. I tried to breath back the tears. I had lost a brother in every war ever fought, the Last Alliance the hardest by far. However, to lose my youngest brother, the brother that I had looked after like a son, I could not stand it, "Man agor pêd? Trenaro enni![1C]"
He began to walk, slowly, absently, toward to end of the hall, toward the hall that led toward the gates. I followed him, still carrying the daggers in one hand. As he seemed to notice me, he sped up, though never fast enough for me to lose step. He walked quickly through the corridors and halls, toward the side doors where the weaponry and horses were kept. I stopped at the door, the tears in my eyes finally covering them so much I could not see any longer, "Legolas, please."
He turned slowly, his eyes the first to come around fully. They were as full as mine, the tears cascading over his eyelids and running down his face.
"He is sending me to Rivendell, to give the message of Gollum's escape, and to offer my services to whatever cause Elrond may send me on"
"Rivendell?" I did not know why that made me so scared. I could feel a crushing in my belly, some strange felling that only normally surfaced when the armies came home, "Legolas, what services will you need to offer?"
He nodded slowly and began to ready the nearest horse, "Father told me that those responsible should be those to tell of our mistake."
"You did not answer me."
"Anything Lord Elrond requires." Legolas turned away from me again, finding a quiver and slinging it over his back.
I found another sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew somehow, there would be trouble, and the services rendered would be no small matter. "Ù tolthoch dan, ae gwannich*.[1D]"
He shook his head, "Thranduviel, you cannot know that, no paths are ever so clear. I will return, after I have met with the Lord." I took the strap of his quiver and pulled it tight, buckling it in carefully. To the strap, I hooked the sheaths, clasping them closed. The daggers remained in my hands, and I stared at them intently. I knew he was wrong, in my heart I knew I would not see my brother again. Not even in the west, when Middle Earth was nothing but the memory of an unpleasant dream. I closed my eyes against the tears, but could not hold them. I felt a warm touch on my skin, removing my tears.
"Why does Rivendell worry you so?"
"I do not know. I just do not feel comfortable, it breeds ill omen."
"The stories say no less of Mirkwood. Or do you blame Elrond for all our grievance?"
I handed the nearest bow to him, running a finger down the string to check the tension, and for any excuse to hold him here a moment longer.
"I do not blame Elrond." I moved my eyes to his hand and took it off my face.
"Then I must go." He took the bow from me and took the reins of his horse. In a swift, single movement, he mounted and started the Horse off, through the open end of the cave. I did not think for a moment. I could not watch him leave, not like that. I stuck the daggers through the fabric of my dress, scratching my legs but holding the blades in place. I took to the nearest horse and mounted, using the mane as reins. With a kick, I rode out, past the guards and trees that lined the small entrance. He was still in sight, his white horse streaming through the trees at speed. I followed, followed with an intent I never thought I would have in my life. I screamed for him to stop. We were heading through the shadowed regions, through toward the Misty Mountains and Rivendell. There was something different about the trees here. They were twisted and evil, they spoke with hatred. Now I could feel it for certain, the shadow was moving.
"Legolas, stop." I called, the tears breaking through my voice. His horse slowed, but continued on, toward the last two trees of the grove. Without thinking, I tore the daggers from my dress, twisting them into a better grip and gaining momentum.
"Yavanna díheno enni [1E]." With a cry I threw them as hard as I could, sending them shooting through the thick forest air. I stopped the horse steady, waiting for some sound. The unmistakable sound of splintering wood hit my ears, a moan of death coming from the trees in which the daggers had imbedded. The white horse and its rider stopped and turned, "Hebich ti[1F]." Please, Legolas, just take them. There was a pause for a moment, stillness and a great tension. He reared his horse and turned it, ripping the daggers from the trees. He sheathed them as he rode, and I waited, watching him leave. As he moved from sight, I turned my horse and rode home, faster than I had come.
"Why could you not send one of the guards? Why did you have to send him?" I had begun talking before the door opened, so much was running through my head I could not control it.
"Thranduviel, do you have no sense?"
"Answer me."
"A guard would never have sufficed. There is no gesture in sending those who do not matter." My father refused to meet my gaze. He was bitter; I knew that all along, bitter because my mother had given her life to give Legolas life. It was rare for such things to occur.
"You cannot blame him for what was done here. You cannot blame him for my mother. He is not Feanor."
Father looked up, his eyes full with both tears and contempt, "I never thought he was. Whose son would you have me send, Thranduviel? I could have sent no other."
"I would have you send a message alone, no offer of service you know he will not return from." I could feel the blood from the dagger wounds run down my skin, soak into my dress, "You will never see him again. Will you send none with him?"
My father stood suddenly, pacing the floor, wandering silently up and down the hall. One of my brothers came into the room, but stopped as he reached the doorway.
"Would you have me send one of your other brothers? Would you give their lives away? I have lost two sons to the wars of this age already, Thranduviel." My father turned and walked away. I was too shocked to speak, so unsure what he meant, so desperate to know. I sank into a nearby chair, barely able to breathe, "Then why did you not send me?" Thranduilion came to me quickly, half at a run. The Elf that had entered with him followed my father. Thranduilion sat beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"He will return."
I could not stay within the halls, I had to get outside. The fear gripped at my chest, it was not just my brother that worried my. The shadow that covered the woods was moving, moving to join that which was building beyond, in the East. The war would be long; they always were, when they concerned Sauron. For Sauron it was, it was no longer just rumor. Mithrandir would not have come if it were some lesser being. I walked slowly to the two grove trees, the dagger splits in them still, the bark splintering around the breaks, the splintered wood lying on the ground. I ran my hands down each trunk, feeling the surface of the tree listening to the sounds it made. The trees understood, they were not angry. I held my hands on the holes; I closed my eyes, holding a breath for a long moment. The gift of healing came to be rare, to the sons and daughters of those who were great. I did not know why I could do it, but below my hands, the bark felt suddenly warm, and carefully, without sound or feeling from the trees, the wood sealed. The scars would remain, and the trees would take many years to heal fully. They were not lost. I moved to the threshold of the hillock the edge of the woods sat upon, looking toward the mountains, to where Gollum had come from and many an Elf may go. Toward the west, where the seas were, and where only in dreams I would ever go. I felt someone behind me, a hand touching me lightly on the arm.
"What did he mean, Thranduilion? Why did he say that as if he did not care if Legolas lived or died?" I took my brother's arm. Thranduilion was born only fifty years after me, he had seen most all of what I had, and he understood my father.
"I do not know, Sister. I feel that perhaps it is not what you may think. I do not think he does not care, nor do I think he means to say he does not think of him as his son. Our brother will return."
"How can you be sure?" I stared at the distant hills, I knew that what my father says was never to be taken literally, that nothing he said was ever without need of interpretation, but my mind seemed to refuse to believe it. How could it be that Thranduil would send his son away while he hides in a cave?
"Because our father trusts us all, Thranduviel." Thranduilion let go of my arm, moving now to the threshold, standing beside me, "But most of all, he trusts you."
^*^*^
Next Chapter: 'Dreamer's Influence' Viewpoint: Faramir
Read and Review, if you please.
Translations1A: "For the Love of a Brother"
1B: "What did he say?"
1C: "What did he say? Tell me!"
1D: "You will not come back, if you leave"
1E: "Yavanna forgive me."
1F: "Keep Them"