Authors Note: Ithildae was born on 45 Coirë, Third Age, 3019. Legolas
leaves for the Gray Havens with Gimli sometime in Fourth Age, 120. This
story starts on Ithildae's day of birth, on his 73rd year. It is twenty-
eight (about) years until the death of Aragorn, and the leaving of Legolas.
P.S. the birthday of Ithildae is the same as the day of the falling of the Dark Lord Sauron.
P.P.S. Any who do not know, Eryn Lasgalen is the place formerly know as Mirkwood, renamed by Celeborn and Thranduil as Eryn Lasgalen, or "Wood of Green Leaves" after the fall of Sauron in the ending of the Third Age.
It was winter in Rivendell. The snow fell softly and quietly, making the world a beauty of white, untouched. The snow wasn't wet, or cold. It was as warm as a touch, and reflected the light of the sunrise in every perfect crystal. Music drifted out from the main hall, a celebratory song, for the defeating of the dark lord.
"It tells of the ages untold, when the power of the dark lord Sauron was strong, and the victory in the hands of two hobbits, accompanied by the fellowship."
The young elf-lord turned to look at Legolas, the prince of Eryn Lasgalen. He had been part of the fellowship, and had experienced the battle at the gates of the white towers. He was tall, with long white- blonde hair and gray-green eyes, the trademark of the Wood elves. He walked toward the young elf leaning on the balcony rail, and stood beside him.
"How many years has it been since you were born?" His voice was soft, a combination of an adult talking to a teenager, and a prince talking to his fellow.
"The same number of years it has been since the fall of the dark lord, Sauron. You of all people should remember that day." He stared off into the wood, his sharp, icy blue eyes flaring with temper.
"Ah, yes. I didn't recognize you." There was a laugh in the elf's voice. It was impossible not to recognize the young elf lord. His silver hair, gleaming in the starlight, was long and straight, falling down past his shoulders. His pale skin was somewhat more ivory than the snow, but still fit in remarkably with the surroundings. He stared up at the full moon, the silver band on his forehead glowing in the starlight, revealing the runes and symbols written with the beautiful and glowing ilithien.
"Why must even you tease me?" He asked, turning toward Legolas. His high cheekbones and remarkable face structure were the result of elusive breeding, and the envy of all who looked upon this young orphan elf.
"I do not tease with the intent to harm you, Ithildae. Only fooling. Why do you take everything so seriously? You are still young. Less than a hundred years. Your life has been full of troubles, I know, but you cannot let them rule you." The concern on Legolas's face was genuine, and Ithildae gave him a weak smile.
"I'll be fine. I've always been able to take care of myself well enough." He tried to look and sound convinced by his own words, and it must have been enough to fool Legolas, for he walked back to the festivities to celebrate the anniversary of the dark lord's fall. But no one had noticed that while there was that to celebrate, it was also Ithildae's birthday. He frowned and walked to the outer courtyard.
He walked, trailing his hand on the wall and gazing off into nothingness. Suddenly he stopped and hid behind the low wall. Had he truly seen that? He looked again. Surely enough, there, dancing in the snow was a beautiful young she-elf. Her long dark hair twirled about her, and her face was flung up to the sky. She looked so remarkably untroubled, her silver eyes gleaming, that Ithildae was envious at her complete happiness.
He frowned, but could not keep himself from looking down on her again. She was beautiful, with her slim face and long, slightly wavy hair. She didn't wear a headband or symbol of rank, and so he could not help but to wonder whom she was. She looked gorgeous, with the moonlight framing her features, and her dark navy blue dress whirling in the light breeze. He could see the silver hemline and embroidery on the dress and the delicate braiding of her hair, and on an impulse hid his headband in the bushes, hoping she hadn't heard tell of him, and went down to dance with her.
He snuck up behind her as she started to dance, a dance meant to be seen, graceful in all her glory. Her eyes were closed, and she was humming the song being played lightly in the background. Softly he took the place of her invisible partner, dancing about her, being careful not to touch. She must have heard him, because she stopped humming and her eyes opened. She had the courtesy not to gasp at his appearance, and started to dance with him.
Who was this handsome elf? He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. His silver hair glinted brightly, falling over his shoulders with no apparent care. His bright blue eyes shocked her, surely, and she wondered who he was. He had no headband, and besides the rare color of his eyes and hair, no sign of rank upon him. She bowed her head slightly, and then remembered she, too had no headband, for she had taken it off and lost it the night before.
"A pleasure to dance with you." She said when the song had ended, her voice like bells, reminding him of a summer's breeze through a beautiful garden, "Although I do not yet know your name. May I have the satisfaction of hearing it?"
Surely she had not heard of him, or would have already assumed his identity. He had the overwhelming urge to tell her truthfully, and so he answered.
"My name is Ithildae. And yours, milady?" He was staring at her, straight in the eyes, and she almost felt shy, a sense she had not thought could still be with her.
"It is Sulelen. It is wonderful to meet you, Ithildae, but I must be going. I will be missed," And she must get away before she fell down. She was tired, yes, but also shocked for not realizing who this was, for surely she had just danced with the young elf lord of Rivendell. She could not believe she had not noticed it before. It was all too obvious.
He gazed at her, staring into her expressive silver eyes, seeming to glow with the light of a thousand stars. He tried to sort out all the emotions that made their ways into her eyes. She had to go, but she was not leaving. Surely that meant she did not want to. If she wanted to leave, she might have refused his offer to dance. Not that he had asked her. Maybe she was just being polite. He would let her leave, then.
"Where can I see you again?" he asked, unwilling to give up all chances of seeing her.
"I do not know. Perhaps we will meet again tomorrow. Maybe never," she frowned, and then walked away, her feet leaving Ithildae no path to follow.
Author's Note:
Sorry for changing so often, but I just realized that making Sulelen Legolas's sister wasn't going to work for me (for reasons still unknown) so I had to change it. She is now the appointed lady of Lothlorien, and has some relationship with Galadriel, but I don't know what yet. More stuff for me to research, huh. Well, hope you liked the corrections.
P.S. the birthday of Ithildae is the same as the day of the falling of the Dark Lord Sauron.
P.P.S. Any who do not know, Eryn Lasgalen is the place formerly know as Mirkwood, renamed by Celeborn and Thranduil as Eryn Lasgalen, or "Wood of Green Leaves" after the fall of Sauron in the ending of the Third Age.
It was winter in Rivendell. The snow fell softly and quietly, making the world a beauty of white, untouched. The snow wasn't wet, or cold. It was as warm as a touch, and reflected the light of the sunrise in every perfect crystal. Music drifted out from the main hall, a celebratory song, for the defeating of the dark lord.
"It tells of the ages untold, when the power of the dark lord Sauron was strong, and the victory in the hands of two hobbits, accompanied by the fellowship."
The young elf-lord turned to look at Legolas, the prince of Eryn Lasgalen. He had been part of the fellowship, and had experienced the battle at the gates of the white towers. He was tall, with long white- blonde hair and gray-green eyes, the trademark of the Wood elves. He walked toward the young elf leaning on the balcony rail, and stood beside him.
"How many years has it been since you were born?" His voice was soft, a combination of an adult talking to a teenager, and a prince talking to his fellow.
"The same number of years it has been since the fall of the dark lord, Sauron. You of all people should remember that day." He stared off into the wood, his sharp, icy blue eyes flaring with temper.
"Ah, yes. I didn't recognize you." There was a laugh in the elf's voice. It was impossible not to recognize the young elf lord. His silver hair, gleaming in the starlight, was long and straight, falling down past his shoulders. His pale skin was somewhat more ivory than the snow, but still fit in remarkably with the surroundings. He stared up at the full moon, the silver band on his forehead glowing in the starlight, revealing the runes and symbols written with the beautiful and glowing ilithien.
"Why must even you tease me?" He asked, turning toward Legolas. His high cheekbones and remarkable face structure were the result of elusive breeding, and the envy of all who looked upon this young orphan elf.
"I do not tease with the intent to harm you, Ithildae. Only fooling. Why do you take everything so seriously? You are still young. Less than a hundred years. Your life has been full of troubles, I know, but you cannot let them rule you." The concern on Legolas's face was genuine, and Ithildae gave him a weak smile.
"I'll be fine. I've always been able to take care of myself well enough." He tried to look and sound convinced by his own words, and it must have been enough to fool Legolas, for he walked back to the festivities to celebrate the anniversary of the dark lord's fall. But no one had noticed that while there was that to celebrate, it was also Ithildae's birthday. He frowned and walked to the outer courtyard.
He walked, trailing his hand on the wall and gazing off into nothingness. Suddenly he stopped and hid behind the low wall. Had he truly seen that? He looked again. Surely enough, there, dancing in the snow was a beautiful young she-elf. Her long dark hair twirled about her, and her face was flung up to the sky. She looked so remarkably untroubled, her silver eyes gleaming, that Ithildae was envious at her complete happiness.
He frowned, but could not keep himself from looking down on her again. She was beautiful, with her slim face and long, slightly wavy hair. She didn't wear a headband or symbol of rank, and so he could not help but to wonder whom she was. She looked gorgeous, with the moonlight framing her features, and her dark navy blue dress whirling in the light breeze. He could see the silver hemline and embroidery on the dress and the delicate braiding of her hair, and on an impulse hid his headband in the bushes, hoping she hadn't heard tell of him, and went down to dance with her.
He snuck up behind her as she started to dance, a dance meant to be seen, graceful in all her glory. Her eyes were closed, and she was humming the song being played lightly in the background. Softly he took the place of her invisible partner, dancing about her, being careful not to touch. She must have heard him, because she stopped humming and her eyes opened. She had the courtesy not to gasp at his appearance, and started to dance with him.
Who was this handsome elf? He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. His silver hair glinted brightly, falling over his shoulders with no apparent care. His bright blue eyes shocked her, surely, and she wondered who he was. He had no headband, and besides the rare color of his eyes and hair, no sign of rank upon him. She bowed her head slightly, and then remembered she, too had no headband, for she had taken it off and lost it the night before.
"A pleasure to dance with you." She said when the song had ended, her voice like bells, reminding him of a summer's breeze through a beautiful garden, "Although I do not yet know your name. May I have the satisfaction of hearing it?"
Surely she had not heard of him, or would have already assumed his identity. He had the overwhelming urge to tell her truthfully, and so he answered.
"My name is Ithildae. And yours, milady?" He was staring at her, straight in the eyes, and she almost felt shy, a sense she had not thought could still be with her.
"It is Sulelen. It is wonderful to meet you, Ithildae, but I must be going. I will be missed," And she must get away before she fell down. She was tired, yes, but also shocked for not realizing who this was, for surely she had just danced with the young elf lord of Rivendell. She could not believe she had not noticed it before. It was all too obvious.
He gazed at her, staring into her expressive silver eyes, seeming to glow with the light of a thousand stars. He tried to sort out all the emotions that made their ways into her eyes. She had to go, but she was not leaving. Surely that meant she did not want to. If she wanted to leave, she might have refused his offer to dance. Not that he had asked her. Maybe she was just being polite. He would let her leave, then.
"Where can I see you again?" he asked, unwilling to give up all chances of seeing her.
"I do not know. Perhaps we will meet again tomorrow. Maybe never," she frowned, and then walked away, her feet leaving Ithildae no path to follow.
Author's Note:
Sorry for changing so often, but I just realized that making Sulelen Legolas's sister wasn't going to work for me (for reasons still unknown) so I had to change it. She is now the appointed lady of Lothlorien, and has some relationship with Galadriel, but I don't know what yet. More stuff for me to research, huh. Well, hope you liked the corrections.