Hello all, this is my first Foray into Middle Earth as a writer, despite the plot ideas that have been swimming around in my head for years. Needless to say I have every intention of posting more LOTR fan fictions at some point.
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Disclaimer: if I owned The Lord of the Rings, I would be far away from this website right now, and probably pretty rich
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The elves of Mirkwood were silent as they watched the remains of their once powerful army return to the halls of their king.
It had been 12 years in the reckoning of men since they'd left the halls of the Elvenking, short in the life of any elf, but long in a time of war. The elven people who had been left waiting had received little to no word as the seasons passed. They did not know who among their friends and family had been slain in battle, and who had lived on to fight another day. Among those who had left for battle had been the Elvenking himself, Oropher. He had pledged their armies to the Great Alliance between men and elves. He took his son, Thranduil, his eldest grandson, Alverior, and the might of their military, leaving his daughter in law and his two younger grandchildren behind.
Now the lady Laurelas waited anxiously alongside her children, the twins, Melimion and Melui. The two, although they had been in their 200's when their father and brother left for war, had been deemed too young for the fight ahead, and left behind, much to their unhappiness, although it had brought great relief to their mother.
Laurelas knew the scouts had reported that their army had been greatly diminished, but even so, it was a shock to see how few of their elven warriors had returned. There were no cries of a glad reunion as the elves hurried to take those who were wounded to the healers, but instead soft sounds of mourning.
Laurelas could not help but peer earnestly through the crowd of elven figures, through seas of dark brown and black hair, with the glimmers of silver and gold in between. Her heart was clenched. There were no clear signs of the three she was searching for. Her husband, her son, and her husband's father; they had to be here somewhere!
"Naneth!" Melui cried, suddenly rising up on her toes. "Alverior, it's Alverior!" she pointed towards a figure who was just entering the gate on the back of a bay horse. His dark golden hair was braided back in a Warrior's braid, and there was a scar that arched above his eyebrow.
The elf warrior turned, and Laurelas felt her heart leap to her throat. Riding just behind her son was her husband. Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood, had returned at last, but something was wrong. She could see the grief written all over his face, the stiffness in his movements; she could feel his pain.
With a faint cry, she burst towards him. The elves around her parted as they recognized who she was, and who she was trying to reach. She was only feet from Thranduil when he swung down from his horse, and then she was clinging to him with all her might.
He was trembling- this she could feel even through his armor.
"Gi Melin," she breathed.
"Nana," Alverior's voice was rough, but the hand he placed on her shoulder was gentle. She turned her face towards his, loathe to let go of her husband, who was now clinging to her.
"Penneth," she murmured, reaching with one hand to touch his face. Her fingers stroked his scar, and he flinched slightly, his hard green eyes softening at her touch.
"My lord, Thranduil," Alverior said, turning his green eyes towards his father. "We must get the rest of our warriors inside. Then you can go with Naneth, and rest, while Gondien and I take care of everything else."
Thranduil stepped away from Laurelas as her heart clenched. "You are right," he murmured softly. "We must get them in. Gondien, inform the counsel of what happened while we were gone."
A Sindarin elf with silver hair and tired blue eyes nodded, pressed Thranduil's shoulder gently with one hand, and then took off. As he passed Laurelas, Gondien smiled at her.
"I am glad to see you well, my lady," he whispered.
"As am I glad to see you, my friend," she said softly, relieved to see that at least one of her friends had survived the war.
"Alverior, you are in one piece!" Melimion exclaimed. He and Melui had taken longer to make their way through the crowd, likely because the elves around them had used the gap caused by Laurelas's movement to carry through those who were the most severely injured.
"Aye, I came through mostly unscathed," Alverior said, a soft smile gracing his face; although he had been born nearly two thousand years before his siblings, he shared a close bond with them both, and Laurelas knew that her children had missed each other deeply.
Melui, less hesitant than her twin, wrapped her arms around her brother, leaning her head against his chest. "I'm so glad that you came home," she breathed. "We worried for you."
Alverior nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, little sister. Adar and I still have more to do though. I cannot stay and talk."
"Alverior," Laurelas said softly. Her eyes had not left Thranduil's face. Her husband's gray eyes were distant, full of sorrow. He did not seem to see her, or his children. "Where is the King?"
A blanket of silence seemed to fall over all of the elves that were gathered. The elves who had stayed in Mirkwood turned towards Laurelas, while the heads of those who had gone to war seemed to fall.
Alverior's eyes seemed glassy, but he raised his head, and looked around. "Of the lords of elves and men who rode to war against Sauron, many were slain. Among them lie Gil-Galad, Elendil, Anárion, Amdír, and Oropher, our own King." Alverion swallowed heavily, his face shadowed with grief. "Oropher and Amdír, lord of Lorien, charged ahead of the rest of the host of elves and men. Oropher himself made it to the Black Gates of Morder, where he and many of our kin were slain in battle. My lord Thranduil and I both were injured in the battle, but we survived to hear of the victory of Isildur against Sauron. The battle was won, but not without cost. We return here with one third of the elves we left with, and without our King."
Cries of grief rose from every corner of the courtyard, and Laurelas felt as though her heart was about to split in two. It was no wonder the look of loss in her husband's eyes was just as strong as it had been when he told her of his mother's death at the hand of the dwarves who sacked Doriath.
Laurelas felt her resolve harden. "Alverior, find Arthion; explain to him what has happened, and the two of you can take charge. I will take your father with me. He is in no fit shape to repair his kingdom at this moment. I promise I will return with him in the morning."
"Naneth," Alverior murmured. "The people-"
"They will understand, Alverior," Laurelas said. "All of us loved our King, but they all know that Thranduil has more cause than any to mourn. One night will not destroy our kingdom."
"Yet it may," Alverior said, his eyes flashing. "I was there, Naneth. I watched as Sauron's commander struck my grandfather down. Our kingdom could have fallen that night, with Adar and I, yet through the grace of the Valar we still stand."
"You did not fall then," Laurelas said calmly, "and tonight will not change that. I promise that after I speak with him, Thranduil will be the leader his people need him to be."
Alverior hesitated, but only for a moment. "I will do as you say," he murmured. Then he left.
The elves around them had already returned to their work, knowing of the necessity to get the injured to the safety of the healing halls.
Laurelas murmured some instructions to Melui and Melimion, who exchanged long glances, then hurried away.
Then Laurelas turned to her husband, who was unsaddling his horse methodically. A young stable hand stood uncertainly near him, as though expecting him to leave the horse and move on like the other returning soldiers.
"Thranduil," Laurelas whispered softly. "Sevog I veleth nîn. Aphado nin."
He looked to her with distant eyes, and, as she took his hand, he moved away from his mount, leaving the relieved horse to be tended by the equally relieved stable hand. Laurelas continued to whisper soothing words in Sindarin, knowing that his native tongue would be a great comfort to her husband. It would have been mostly Westron spoken among he and his troops for the sake of the men who fought with them during the war.
Laurelas led her grieving husband through the halls of the palace. Every elf they passed stopped at the sight of them, and soft whispers followed them. It was clear that news of the King's death had reached throughout the palace, likely by way of the trees.
When she reached the royal wing, the guards stepped aside without a word. They were fairly young, only just to maturity, but Laurelas had seen their skills in the time since the main force had departed the Greenwood, and she trusted them to guard her family.
It was silent in the Royal wing, since few were there. A lone elf woman sat reading to her young elfling outside of one room, and she glanced up. "My lady," she said, although her eyes were on Thranduil. "He's been quiet, but I believe he woke not long ago."
"Thank you Alariel," Laurelas murmured. "You can go. See if Meldiron returned from war. You have my deepest gratitude my friend."
"It was my pleasure my lady," Alariel said, nodding respectfully. Still she hesitated. "The King-" she murmured, concern in her eyes. "The trees say-"
"The trees speak the truth, Alariel," Laurelas murmured, grief filling her mind once more. "The King walks no more on the face of Arda, but has gone to the Halls of Mandos, where I pray he finds peace and rest at last."
Alariel's head fell, and she sighed. "I had hoped that I heard wrong," she said sadly. "Alas that it is not so. I will search for my husband; come Calanon," she added, looking with affection at the solemn elfling by her side. He had risen at the same time as she, and was looking at Thranduil with awe in his eyes. "Calanon, we go to find your Adar."
The elfling shifted his blue eyes to his mother. "Yes Naneth." Laurelas watched as the two left the hall, and prayed fervently to the Valar that they would not hear a tale of grief at the end of their search.
She opened the door softly, and peered inside. Almost immediately a smile flooded over her face. Wide gray eyes with flecks of blue light were looking right towards her.
"Come, Thranduil, there is someone you should meet," Laurelas said lightly, opening the door and leading the way into the room. She was relieved to see a spark of interest in his eyes as his eyes scanned the room, finally falling on the elfling that sat on a large bed.
Although eleven years of age, the elfling looked but four in the span of human years. All the same, Laurelas knew her youngest child was wiser than any mortal of his age would be, just as all elves were. Even now he was examining Thranduil with curiosity and growing excitement, just as he viewed all else in the world.
"Nana, who is this?" the child asked quietly.
Thranduil's breath hitched in his throat, and he turned to his wife with a look of growing guilt. "Laurelas, we were right?"
"Indeed, although I did not know it for certain until many weeks after you left," Laurelas admitted, feeling once again the horrible thought that she would be bringing a child into a world riddled by war, where he may never meet his father.
Thranduil groaned. "I was not there for you," he cried. "I felt that you were tired, but I hoped it was simply the pain of waiting for us to return home, not the strain of carrying an elfling without my support."
"That did not help," Laurelas admitted. "I understood immediately why so few of our kin choose to separate during such a time. I wished for you desperately the entire time, and there were many times my strength faded beyond all belief. If I had not had Melui and Melimion with me, I do not know that I could have done it."
"I am more relieved than ever that they did not come with Alverior and I, then," Thranduil said, his eyes going back to the elfling, who was looking back and forth between his mother and father with growing understanding in his large eyes.
"Nana, is this my Ada?" the question made Laurelas smile.
"Yes, penneth, this is your Ada. He has returned from war at long last."
The eyes turned back to Thranduil, and then a bright smile spread over his face. "Ada!" He cried, sliding off of the bed and running to Thranduil on short legs, throwing his arms around his father's knees. The child looked up, happiness radiating from him. "Meli and Mion said I had an Ada who was brave and strong. I'm happy to meet you, Ada."
Thranduil knelt so that his face was even with his son's. Laurelas could see tears coming to his eyes. "With the passing of one life comes the birth of another," he murmured. "What is your name, penneth?"
Laurelas nodded as her son looked up at her, a question in his eyes. "Nana did not want to name me without you, Ada," he said slowly, "but Meli and Mion said that you would want me to have a name. So she named me Legolas, because you always wanted a green leaf to follow your gold."
Thranduil laughed, a choked sound. "Legolas . . . aye, that is what I would have named you, had I been here. Your Nana is wise in the ways of my heart, as always."
Legolas laughed. "Nana is very wise," he agreed. "Ada, Mion says I have a brother, Verior. Can I meet Verior?"
Thranduil smiled, and Laurelas felt her heart lift at the sight. "I think Alverior would not like it if he did not have the honor of meeting his youngest brother soon," Thranduil agreed.
With one quick movement, Thranduil swooped Legolas into his arms and onto his shoulders, inciting an excited shriek followed by giggles from the little elfling. Laurelas felt her heart swell as she watched the grief in Thranduil's eyes fade as he became accustomed to once again being the father of one who did not need advice on which elves to take on patrol, but one who was still full of laughter, light, and the joy of the Eldar.
He would still grieve, this was for certain, but he would also be celebrating a new life. Her pain while carrying Legolas without his strength had been severe, made worse by the uncertainty of war, but she'd known that the life she bore would be precious to her family.
The guards fell in behind her and Thranduil as they moved away from the Royal quarters, lending a sense of further comfort to Laurelas. They were safe. Thranduil was safe.
Legolas sat high on his father's shoulders, pointing out different things to Thranduil and chattering excitedly, as though he was showing Thranduil around.
Of course he did not know that his Adar was far more familiar with the palace than his short life gave him the opportunity to be. The elves they passed in the halls now seemed both surprised and pleased to see that their king had met his youngest son.
Thranduil's grief had lightened, and he was gazing at his son in awe as the elfling chattered.
It was not hard to find Alverior. He and the council had gone straight for the council chamber. Laurelas had no qualms about interrupting them, so she left her husband outside with Legolas, and entered alone.
"-but without the King, you and your father have no power over the elves of the realm," Ūtíradien was saying coldly. His dark hair stood out starkly against his white skin, and his incredibly light blue eyes seemed to glow slightly in his anger. "At last the Silven elves may be left to our own devices!"
"My lord, I was not aware that the Sindarin rule was so grating upon the Silvens," Laurelas interrupted before any other elf could say another word.
All heads immediately turned towards her, and Laurelas could see relief in Alverior's eyes at the sight of his mother.
"My lady," Ūtíradien bowing his head towards her respectfully, although he looked frustrated. Laurelas herself was half Silven, so his argument was less valid with her there. The other Silven council members also looked annoyed by Ūtíradien's insinuations. "I was just trying to explain that now the rule may be passed to another who might understand our ways better," Ūtíradien said, trying to recover from Laurelas's entrance.
"You do not believe my husband fits those guidelines?" Laurelas asked smoothly, raising one eyebrow. "You think he does not understand the ways of the Silvens?"
Once again Ūtíradien looked alarmed. He'd backed himself into a corner. "No my lady, it's just that-"
"Who would you suggest as our new ruler?" Laurelas asked, completely ignoring the Silven lord's attempts to fix what he'd done. "No others have been trained in the ways of leading our people as he has, and he helped our King rule far more than any other member on this council."
Laurelas allowed her green eyes to look around the room, meeting the eyes of every council member present. All but Alverior had stayed here while the war was fought. The fate of those who had gone was as of yet unknown other than Alverior, Gondien, and Thranduil.
"My husband has risked his life to preserve this kingdom, and to protect the culture of the silven elves," Laurelas said, her eyes narrowing. "Those who say otherwise should take the time to think about their complaints before bringing them before the council. Now, I will be taking my son, and spending the evening with my family. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come and speak with us, but your time would be better spent with those family and friends that have just returned from battle."
Laurelas nodded respectfully to the council, grabbed her son's arm, and dragged him out of the room to where Thranduil and Legolas were waiting.
She wasn't surprised to see that Melui and Melimion had joined their father and younger brother. Legolas was sitting on Melui's lap now, while Thranduil spoke softly to Melimion. His eyes kept flickering over to Legolas, and every time they did, his whole expression softened.
Alverior stood next to his mother, blinking in shock at the sight before him.
"Who- what? What's going on?" he asked. "Adar, are you alright?"
"Yes, Alverior, I am fine," Thranduil said softly, glancing up at his eldest son. "I feel better than I have for months."
Alverior blinked, and turned to Melui, who had one hand on Legolas's shoulder. Legolas was staring up at Alverior with awe in his eyes, but it was clear that his older brother had absolutely no idea what was going on.
"Whose elfling is this?" he asked gently, smiling down at the young one.
"He is your father's and mine," Laurelas said, smiling. "Alverior, this is your younger brother, Legolas."
From the widening of Alverior's eyes, that was something he had not expected at all, but then he smiled broadly, the happiest expression Laurelas had seen since he had returned home.
Alverior knelt, bringing himself down to meet Legolas's eyes. After merely a moment, the elfling laughed, and flung himself into Alverior's arms.
Laurelas watched as her children played with each other, even her warrior son disregarding his age and station, and breathed easy as she felt her husband move to stand besides her, taking her hand in his own.
Her family may be grieving, but with their little light, their little Green Leaf, everything would be alright.
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So there it is, my foundation for the family of Legolas Thranduilion, and my entrance into LOTR fanfics.
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Naneth/Nana- Mother/Mommy
Adar/Ada- Father/Daddy
Penneth- Young one/little one
Gi melin- I love you
Sevog I veleth nîn. Aphado nin- You have my love. Come with me.
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My timeline:
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1.A. 152- Thranduil is born
S.A. 123- Laurelas is born
S.A. 1200- Thranduil and Laurelas are officially bonded together as man and wife.
S.A. 1430- Alverior is born
S.A. 3211- Melimion and Melui are born
S.A. 3431- Legolas is born
T.A. 2- Thranduil and the host of Mirkwood return.
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Etymology of names:
Thranduil- vigorous spring
Laurelas- golden leaf
Alverior- blessed protector
Melimion- lovable
Melui- lovable
Legolas- green leaf
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Bonus- Ūtíradien- blind, lit. Not seeing
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Review?