Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are
the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien estate.
Author's Notes: This fic directly follows "The Light of Sons", which I highly recommend you read first (if you have not already). Not only will it help you to know the characters better, but it will also familiarize you with circumstances that play a large part in the story.
Rated PG, for occasional emotional angst. I do not foresee this rating going up.
According to my "Atlas of Middle Earth", Mirkwood had a mild summer and a fairly cold winter.
I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter of "Light of Sons". I adore reading all of your comments (there are several that I have read multiple times over).
*Dragon-of-the-north: What can I say? Your reviews always make me feel so wonderful about my writing (I truly do not deserve to have such nice things written about it). I am quite honored by some of your comments. I certainly hope that this piece meets your expectations!
*Ezra: Yippee! A new reviewer! I'm glad you liked my story.
*Katherine: I know what you mean about getting two chapters of something you like! Flawless, huh? Wow!
*Wild Iris: Gosh-what a flattering review. Thank you for your comments! We all try now, don't we?
*daw: Cry? Oh dear. *Gets out tissue box* I certainly hope those were happy tears.
*Esgalromen: I hope you were able to find this...and am happy that you liked my ending! I just couldn't leave them all fussing in Chapter 10.
*Galadriel Lorien: Cry? *Takes tissues from daw, passes them to Galadriel* I hope you like the sequel.
*Queen of Shadows: Here is the sequel! (Or the beginning at least!) Enjoy yourself!
~*~
All right, on to this story! I hope it meets everyone's expectations! Similar to "Light of Sons", it will probably have a faint plot line and will move rather slowly.
If you haven't caught on yet, I adore reviews. Plus, the weekend is coming up..if I get some happy readers, perhaps I'll put Chapter 2 up. I especially like to know what you are enjoying most, and if there is anything you would really like to see.
Your questions and comments are always welcome!
---Aranel
aranels@hotmail.com
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Chapter 1~*~Silver Stars and Snowfalls
Thilómë sat on the bed, still awake as her husband slept nearby. Moonlight streamed through the long, narrow window, sending a pale shaft across the room. The faint specks of stars, and snowflakes, stood out against the deep, dark blue of the sky. Thilómë glanced around the room, playing with a strand of her hair. She would have been on the road to the Havens this very night, if she had made that choice. She looked to a small pile on the floor near the bed. Her gown. She had worked on the delicate embroidery for a few weeks, weaving the minute stitches of silver vines and leaves through the filmy white fabric. Thilómë sighed, smiling slightly. She would have been wearing it tonight, traveling under the stars and moon, singing songs of Elbereth and Elvenhome.
But no. She had made her choice a nearly a month ago, forgoing the peace of Aman for the love of her family. Thilómë looked to her slumbering husband, her love. What had he said? There was a memory of flowering trees, sweet scented white blossoms under the starlight, a tender embrace long ago. 'I never expected to find you,' he had said, holding her, 'But now that I have, I want to be with you forever.' He had smiled, pushing a pale, waxy flower behind her ear, 'Forever and a day'.
Thilómë smiled to herself, leaning over and nudging her husband slightly. As he rolled onto his side, she settled herself in the soft spot he had left, soaking up the warmth. "Forever and a day," she whispered, pulling the already softened bedclothes over herself.
"That's how long I'll love you," Thranduil mumbled, sinking into his new spot on the bed.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Aldandil splashed some water from a basin onto his face. He quickly wiped it off, startled at how cold it was. Surely the servants had placed the pitcher in his room just this morning, but the temperature had seemed frigid even for an Elf. He dried his hands, glancing out the window. So that was why it had been so cold! Everything he could see was blanketed in an early cover of crisp, white snow. It glistened on the bare branches of the trees, covering the piles of red and golden leaves on the forest floor. The sight made Aldandil smile to himself. His mother had always loved the first snow of the season, the way everything looked fresh and clean. Pure white pages, ready to be filled with the track-told tales of birds and woodland creatures, not to mention Elves. There would be only slight footprints from them, but Aldandil was sure there would be other traces that would not be so easily overlooked.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
After breakfast, Aldandil slipped into the kitchen storeroom, glancing around. No one was in sight. Moving quietly, he searched the shelves that lined the walls. "Too small, too thin," he glanced at the different items. He picked up a large baking sheet and spun it between his fingers, raising an eyebrow, "This might work. Yes, this should be just fine."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Look, Nana!" Legolas was nearly hopping up and down, pointing urgently out the window. He stared out at the snow covered landscape, "Can I go out this time? Please?"
Thilómë folded her hands, setting them on her lap, "It's very cold. Too cold for you." How long had it taken her to pull him from his bed this morning? The child's fingers had seemed curled stiffly to the blankets, nearly frozen.
"Please?" Legolas asked again. He had been outside in the winter only rarely, and then only for short walks. It seemed to make no sense at all that everyone else could play out there all day while he had to stay inside.
Aldandil walked in, already dressed in a heavy green cloak, mimicking his brother's tone, "Please, Nana? Please?"
"He'll freeze," Thilómë looked out the sitting room windows. The look on Legolas's face was one of disappointment, and Aldandil copied that too, although it was a bit exaggerated. Sighing, she smiled, "All right..but only for a little while!" She turned to Aldandil, "And you watch him!"
"Done," Aldandil's face cracked into a large grin, "Come on, Legolas."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Nana had been right, it was very cold outside. Legolas rubbed his chilled face with his hands, glad Nana had made him wear mittens. She didn't make Aldandil wear mittens.
Aldandil glanced behind him, smiling. Legolas appeared to be doing some kind of dance...hopping a ways, then stopping and tossing handfuls of snow into the air. "Hurry up, or we'll never get to the top."
"Why do we have to go up this hill?" Legolas stared up at his brother.
"Because," Aldandil stopped walking, "It is very difficult to slide on flat ground." With that, he tossed the baking sheet he had been carrying onto the snow, "Watch." Aldandil managed to fit himself on the metal tray, then pushed himself, cookware and all, off the edge of the hill.
Legolas peered down the hill. His brother was flying down, his long, loose hair and layered cloak streaming behind him in a silver and green flash. He slid to a stop, picked the pan up, and sprinted back up the hill.
"Now it's your turn," Aldandil held the baking sheet steady while Legolas cautiously, yet excitedly, sat down on it, grabbing the sides firmly with his little green-mittened hands, "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No," Legolas shook his head. He had seen Aldandil scrunch onto the pan before. If his brother got on again, there would be no room left for himself!
"All right," Aldandil decided it would be fine. This was a fairly small hill after all, "Now, whatever you do, don't let go. Ready?"
"Yes," Legolas nodded somewhat nervously. In an instant he was going down the hill in a blur, his hair and powdered snow flying into his face, "Aiiiii!"
"That shrieking!" Aldandil managed to keep his fingers out of his ears. Legolas had succeeded in staying on the pan so far, but was so light that he was bouncing up and down. Aldandil started down the hill, glancing at his brother again, "Oh no..."
Legolas clung to the sides of the tray tightly, screaming at the top of his lungs. The experience was both delight and horror at the same time. Trees and bushes whizzed past, and then---what was that? He felt the bump travel through his whole body and let go, rolling a short ways before tumbling into a heap of snow.
Aldandil glided down the little hill, taking in the sight near the bottom. One overturned baking sheet, one snow-covered little brother, and one slightly surprised Elf-lord trying to keep his balance. Wonderful, just wonderful.
Legolas felt a chunk of snow begin to melt on his head, slipping in an icy path behind his ear and onto his shoulder. There was snow in his ears, snow in his shoes, snow crunching under the wraps around his ankles, snow turning to water inside his cloak and around his neck. It was cold. And wet. And he didn't like it.
Steadying himself, the Elf-lord felt his brow wrinkle. Since when had his reflexes grown so slow? He'd nearly been toppled over by a child, a screaming child nonetheless, on a...what was it? An oven tin? He shook the snow from the numerous folds in his cranberry red cloak, taking in the sight of his minute attacker. The little one sat in the snow; ears, nose, and cheeks tinged bright red in an otherwise pale face, globs of icy snow falling out of his wet blond hair. If he was correct, the miserable child was one of the sons of King Thranduil. And that would be the other one, racing towards him.
"Sorry!" Aldandil reached the bottom of the hill, lifting his brother out of the snow. He hastily wiped the thawing clumps out of Legolas's face before looking to the Elf-lord again, "Please forgive him, he has never been sliding before, and is not very well versed in all the uses of modern cookware."
Author's Notes: This fic directly follows "The Light of Sons", which I highly recommend you read first (if you have not already). Not only will it help you to know the characters better, but it will also familiarize you with circumstances that play a large part in the story.
Rated PG, for occasional emotional angst. I do not foresee this rating going up.
According to my "Atlas of Middle Earth", Mirkwood had a mild summer and a fairly cold winter.
I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter of "Light of Sons". I adore reading all of your comments (there are several that I have read multiple times over).
*Dragon-of-the-north: What can I say? Your reviews always make me feel so wonderful about my writing (I truly do not deserve to have such nice things written about it). I am quite honored by some of your comments. I certainly hope that this piece meets your expectations!
*Ezra: Yippee! A new reviewer! I'm glad you liked my story.
*Katherine: I know what you mean about getting two chapters of something you like! Flawless, huh? Wow!
*Wild Iris: Gosh-what a flattering review. Thank you for your comments! We all try now, don't we?
*daw: Cry? Oh dear. *Gets out tissue box* I certainly hope those were happy tears.
*Esgalromen: I hope you were able to find this...and am happy that you liked my ending! I just couldn't leave them all fussing in Chapter 10.
*Galadriel Lorien: Cry? *Takes tissues from daw, passes them to Galadriel* I hope you like the sequel.
*Queen of Shadows: Here is the sequel! (Or the beginning at least!) Enjoy yourself!
~*~
All right, on to this story! I hope it meets everyone's expectations! Similar to "Light of Sons", it will probably have a faint plot line and will move rather slowly.
If you haven't caught on yet, I adore reviews. Plus, the weekend is coming up..if I get some happy readers, perhaps I'll put Chapter 2 up. I especially like to know what you are enjoying most, and if there is anything you would really like to see.
Your questions and comments are always welcome!
---Aranel
aranels@hotmail.com
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Chapter 1~*~Silver Stars and Snowfalls
Thilómë sat on the bed, still awake as her husband slept nearby. Moonlight streamed through the long, narrow window, sending a pale shaft across the room. The faint specks of stars, and snowflakes, stood out against the deep, dark blue of the sky. Thilómë glanced around the room, playing with a strand of her hair. She would have been on the road to the Havens this very night, if she had made that choice. She looked to a small pile on the floor near the bed. Her gown. She had worked on the delicate embroidery for a few weeks, weaving the minute stitches of silver vines and leaves through the filmy white fabric. Thilómë sighed, smiling slightly. She would have been wearing it tonight, traveling under the stars and moon, singing songs of Elbereth and Elvenhome.
But no. She had made her choice a nearly a month ago, forgoing the peace of Aman for the love of her family. Thilómë looked to her slumbering husband, her love. What had he said? There was a memory of flowering trees, sweet scented white blossoms under the starlight, a tender embrace long ago. 'I never expected to find you,' he had said, holding her, 'But now that I have, I want to be with you forever.' He had smiled, pushing a pale, waxy flower behind her ear, 'Forever and a day'.
Thilómë smiled to herself, leaning over and nudging her husband slightly. As he rolled onto his side, she settled herself in the soft spot he had left, soaking up the warmth. "Forever and a day," she whispered, pulling the already softened bedclothes over herself.
"That's how long I'll love you," Thranduil mumbled, sinking into his new spot on the bed.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Aldandil splashed some water from a basin onto his face. He quickly wiped it off, startled at how cold it was. Surely the servants had placed the pitcher in his room just this morning, but the temperature had seemed frigid even for an Elf. He dried his hands, glancing out the window. So that was why it had been so cold! Everything he could see was blanketed in an early cover of crisp, white snow. It glistened on the bare branches of the trees, covering the piles of red and golden leaves on the forest floor. The sight made Aldandil smile to himself. His mother had always loved the first snow of the season, the way everything looked fresh and clean. Pure white pages, ready to be filled with the track-told tales of birds and woodland creatures, not to mention Elves. There would be only slight footprints from them, but Aldandil was sure there would be other traces that would not be so easily overlooked.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
After breakfast, Aldandil slipped into the kitchen storeroom, glancing around. No one was in sight. Moving quietly, he searched the shelves that lined the walls. "Too small, too thin," he glanced at the different items. He picked up a large baking sheet and spun it between his fingers, raising an eyebrow, "This might work. Yes, this should be just fine."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Look, Nana!" Legolas was nearly hopping up and down, pointing urgently out the window. He stared out at the snow covered landscape, "Can I go out this time? Please?"
Thilómë folded her hands, setting them on her lap, "It's very cold. Too cold for you." How long had it taken her to pull him from his bed this morning? The child's fingers had seemed curled stiffly to the blankets, nearly frozen.
"Please?" Legolas asked again. He had been outside in the winter only rarely, and then only for short walks. It seemed to make no sense at all that everyone else could play out there all day while he had to stay inside.
Aldandil walked in, already dressed in a heavy green cloak, mimicking his brother's tone, "Please, Nana? Please?"
"He'll freeze," Thilómë looked out the sitting room windows. The look on Legolas's face was one of disappointment, and Aldandil copied that too, although it was a bit exaggerated. Sighing, she smiled, "All right..but only for a little while!" She turned to Aldandil, "And you watch him!"
"Done," Aldandil's face cracked into a large grin, "Come on, Legolas."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Nana had been right, it was very cold outside. Legolas rubbed his chilled face with his hands, glad Nana had made him wear mittens. She didn't make Aldandil wear mittens.
Aldandil glanced behind him, smiling. Legolas appeared to be doing some kind of dance...hopping a ways, then stopping and tossing handfuls of snow into the air. "Hurry up, or we'll never get to the top."
"Why do we have to go up this hill?" Legolas stared up at his brother.
"Because," Aldandil stopped walking, "It is very difficult to slide on flat ground." With that, he tossed the baking sheet he had been carrying onto the snow, "Watch." Aldandil managed to fit himself on the metal tray, then pushed himself, cookware and all, off the edge of the hill.
Legolas peered down the hill. His brother was flying down, his long, loose hair and layered cloak streaming behind him in a silver and green flash. He slid to a stop, picked the pan up, and sprinted back up the hill.
"Now it's your turn," Aldandil held the baking sheet steady while Legolas cautiously, yet excitedly, sat down on it, grabbing the sides firmly with his little green-mittened hands, "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No," Legolas shook his head. He had seen Aldandil scrunch onto the pan before. If his brother got on again, there would be no room left for himself!
"All right," Aldandil decided it would be fine. This was a fairly small hill after all, "Now, whatever you do, don't let go. Ready?"
"Yes," Legolas nodded somewhat nervously. In an instant he was going down the hill in a blur, his hair and powdered snow flying into his face, "Aiiiii!"
"That shrieking!" Aldandil managed to keep his fingers out of his ears. Legolas had succeeded in staying on the pan so far, but was so light that he was bouncing up and down. Aldandil started down the hill, glancing at his brother again, "Oh no..."
Legolas clung to the sides of the tray tightly, screaming at the top of his lungs. The experience was both delight and horror at the same time. Trees and bushes whizzed past, and then---what was that? He felt the bump travel through his whole body and let go, rolling a short ways before tumbling into a heap of snow.
Aldandil glided down the little hill, taking in the sight near the bottom. One overturned baking sheet, one snow-covered little brother, and one slightly surprised Elf-lord trying to keep his balance. Wonderful, just wonderful.
Legolas felt a chunk of snow begin to melt on his head, slipping in an icy path behind his ear and onto his shoulder. There was snow in his ears, snow in his shoes, snow crunching under the wraps around his ankles, snow turning to water inside his cloak and around his neck. It was cold. And wet. And he didn't like it.
Steadying himself, the Elf-lord felt his brow wrinkle. Since when had his reflexes grown so slow? He'd nearly been toppled over by a child, a screaming child nonetheless, on a...what was it? An oven tin? He shook the snow from the numerous folds in his cranberry red cloak, taking in the sight of his minute attacker. The little one sat in the snow; ears, nose, and cheeks tinged bright red in an otherwise pale face, globs of icy snow falling out of his wet blond hair. If he was correct, the miserable child was one of the sons of King Thranduil. And that would be the other one, racing towards him.
"Sorry!" Aldandil reached the bottom of the hill, lifting his brother out of the snow. He hastily wiped the thawing clumps out of Legolas's face before looking to the Elf-lord again, "Please forgive him, he has never been sliding before, and is not very well versed in all the uses of modern cookware."