This is one of the first LOTR stories I wrote, so the prose is a bit rough but I still like the story. I've left the original introduction on it too.
Hidden Treasure
This story was inspired by reading Ellen Brundige's essay, Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals, and a lot of the ideas within it come from that. Quotes in Elvish languages come direct from LOTR: the High Elven greeting from p.94 and the hymn to Elbereth from pp.254 and 1066. Apart from one or two bits from the Appendix, the rest is all mine, and now all yours. It is set in the era just prior to The Hobbit.
The Elf's eyes widened with fear as the Spiders closed in around her. She was trapped in the dark, overgrown hollow, cut off from her companions. Bravely, she closed her eyes and began to chant softly under her breath. But the Spiders were undaunted. For once, she was one and they were many. They scuttled further forward on their hideous, hairy legs, dragging their bloated bodies behind them. Their whining, evil voices creaked in the darkness. The Elf looked up to the skies and let out a clear, piercing scream that penetrated through the forest roof. Too late were clear voices heard ringing through the thickets. Too late did a hail of arrows fall showering into the hollow. The Elf lay still and silent. The Spiders had crushed her to death.
The picture shrank to a speck of starlight in the eye of the Elvenking. It was 700 years to the day since his wife had been taken by the Spiders and the memory, like all Elven memories, was as clear as waking life, if not clearer. But no tear came to soften his piercing blue eyes. The long years of the Elvenking had been full of bitterness and sorrow and, as he stood now in the throne room of his underground fortress, the soft lamplight playing on his golden hair and crown of autumn leaves, his face, though still Elven-fair, was stern and hard. He paced up and down the room and sighed deeply.
The pale face of the golden-haired Elf was wet with tears as he knelt in the dark, overgrown hollow, his hand upon his breast. Behind him stood another Elf, grey-eyed with hair the colour of a birch tree bark, also with hand upon breast and head bowed in reverence.
"Come, Legolas," said the grey-eyed Elf. "I will sing a lament for your mother:
In peace beneath the beech and oak
Her footsteps walked, her clear voice rang.
Who will now hear the song she sang?
Who will now tell the words she spoke?
When Springtime comes, and April rain
In lands beyond the distant shore,
Where flowers blossom evermore,
May it be will shall meet again."
Legolas rose and drew his long, pale hand across his eyes.
"Thank you, Eryn," he said. "Though 700 times 700 years may pass, I will never forget her, nor the love she had for me."
Eryn laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I know," he said.
A messenger came through the brightly-carved doors of the underground throne room and bowed before the King.
"My Lord," he said. "There is someone…"
But, before he could finish the sentence, a light step was heard in the corridor, and a tall, dignified Elf entered the room. A star was on his brow, and his long robes trailed behind him as he walked. He looked boldly into the eyes of the Elvenking, and the two held the gaze for some minutes before either spoke.
"Elrond. Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo," said the Elvenking, in a tone which, if not curt, did not sound entirely welcoming.
"It has been a long time, Thranduil," said Elrond. "But I have come here to speak to you on matters of great importance."
"Such as what?" said Thranduil.
"One I am sure you can guess," Elrond replied. "I would ask if you would not reconsider and join the White Council."
"And pander to the Golden Megalomaniac?" scoffed Thranduil.
"Your quarrel with Galadriel is well known," said Elrond. "Yet the time is coming when we must put all such differences aside and unite. There are evil things abroad in the world. You, of all people, must surely know that."
"I do know it," said the Elvenking, "and I deal with it as I may. We do not all wield such powerful weapons in the defence of our lands." His eyes strayed to Elrond's hand.
"Such weapons will not avail us if the One is found," said Elrond. "You know of what I speak. I beg you to reconsider."
"You have your way, Elrond, and I have mine," said Thranduil. "If that is all you come to say, then you have wasted your journey."
"That is not all I came to say," said Elrond. "I would also speak to you on another matter – that of your son."
Thranduil's nostrils flared and his eyes flashed fire.
"Do not speak to me of my son!" he thundered. "His welfare is my concern alone and no business of yours!"
"Then you have still not told him, after all these years?" said Elrond in amazement.
"Why should I?" said Thranduil. "What need has he of royal titles and High-Elven ways. He is contented under beech and elm, bending the bow and singing in the starlight; merry and loving as was his dear mother before him. And if what you say is true, Elrond, I think you will find my wisdom borne out. The less he knows, the better."
"You have not waited to hear me out," Elrond said. "My foresight tells me he is destined for some act of greatness."
"Which as a Wood-Elf he could not possibly accomplish, I suppose?" said Thranduil. "Acts of greatness! What have they ever brought to the Elder Race but death and destruction? You ought to know, Herald of Gil-galad. You were there on that day. We looked into the very Eye of Mordor. There the People of the Wood fell and their sweet, merry voices were silenced forever."
"Do not let bitterness cloud your wisdom," said Elrond. "You know as well as I do that, were a second darkness to fall, the voices of the Elves would be silenced under these very trees." He sighed. "You always were one for hoarding treasure, Thranduil. But do not imagine that you can conceal your greatest treasure forever. If he truly is destined for greatness, then nothing you or I can do will be able to alter that."
"Then do not pretend that I am the only one to conceal my treasure, Elrond," said the Elvenking. "I know the identity of the Boy you have taken in. And I am not unaware of the maiden Undomiel, dwell as she may in the accursed Wood."
"The light of the Evenstar will shine in due time," said Elrond. "And, as for the Boy, I will reveal to him his heritage when he comes of age. I will not conceal it from him 800 years in an attempt to assuage my own disappointments."
Thranduil laughed, bitterly.
"My own disappointments," he repeated. "Yes, they have been long and many. Well, you have challenged me, Elrond. Maybe the wisdom of this Wood has been lacking of late. I will send word to you when I may. But do not expect a hasty decision."
"I would never even wish for that," said Elrond.