Samhain submitted 11-12-08.
Argh, this one was tough to write! But I finally got it out, even if it is a couple weeks late. Sorry about that! I hope you like it.
Also, there is some music that you may want to listen to whilst reading this fic, if you can find the songs.
1. "The Dogs Among the Bushes" by The Chieftans
2. "Chase Around the Windmill" by The Chieftans
3. "Circle of Joy" by Lisa Lynne
4. "O'Sullivan's March" by The Chieftans
5. "Song of the Sea" by Sharon Knight
Please note that this takes place during Peacetime Adventures but is meant as a stand-alone oneshot.
Summary: The Samhain festivals have come again to Middle-earth, and the night promises to be special, indeed, for young Legolas Thranduilion and his friends and family. Rated PG for one kiss and for the mention of alcohol.
Disclaimer: All the credit for Legolas, Ecthelion, Thranduil, and Middle-earth itself goes to J.R.R. Tolkien. I only claim ownership of Abriel, Andiach, and any other original characters you may meet.
SAMHAIN.
A part of the Iaur Min Series.
By GundamWingFanatic90.
"It is almost time for the Samhain festivals, muindor-nin!" Ecthelion's excited voice broke through Legolas' musings like a rock through glass. The Crown Prince blinked and looked over to his left as his ten-year-old brother entered the bedchamber carrying a garland of pine branches, along with various sticks and antlers.
"I am aware of that, Ecthelion," Legolas said, and turned back to the letter he had been writing. The pen began to scratch again as Legolas returned to his task.
"Aren't you going to help me make some decorations before the celebrations tonight?" Ecthelion's voice was slightly disappointed. Legolas sighed and penned the closing to the letter.
"One does not make decorations for Samhain, Ecthelion," the elder brother said tiredly. Ecthelion scrunched his face up into a pouting scowl.
"We used to back in Gondolin!" he exclaimed. "Why can we not do so here?"
Uttering a silent prayer for patience, Legolas finally turned to face his younger brother. "Ecthelion, I do not think that you understand the rituals that occur here."
"What?" Ecthelion asked, aghast. "Do they not have the tradition of the bonefires, here?"
"They do," Legolas acceded. "But they do not drive livestock between them, obviously. Also, when everyone is gathered, they have dancing and divinations, and the storytellers always gather in force."
"Do the children go from place to place dressed up as frightening creatures and ask for sweetmeats?"
Legolas shook his head. "No, it is too dangerous in these woods. There is always a feast, though, and all kinds of treats afterwards."
"Oh."
Legolas studied his brother for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak. However, he was cut off by the tolling of a far-off bell. With a start, he glanced out the open window, finding that the sun had set. Shaking his head with a smile, Legolas got up, pushed his chair in, and headed for the door.
"Bring those antlers with you, Ecthelion, but leave the rest," he said. Ecthelion blinked, and hurriedly did as he was told before he dashed off after his older brother. The ten-year-old practically radiated excitement as he dashed out to the courtyard with Legolas hot on his heels. Then they slowed down and walked sedately toward the clearings where the festivities would be held.
It took them all of five minutes to reach the location, and they arrived to find that the bonfires had already been lit. Legolas spotted a pile of small, unlit torches laying at the other end of the glade. Someone had gathered some instruments together, and a couple of elves were gathered around them, discussing in quiet voices which songs to play when.
Legolas spotted his parents standing near the two great chairs of knotted pine from which they would preside over many of the ceremonies. The couple was talking to a group of elves with dark hair and eyes in varying shades of silver, green, and blue. As the two princes approached, one of the strangers, a female with silver eyes who had her raven hair bound back in braids- one at each temple and a thicker one that ran over the crest of her head, where all three joined into the thickest braid- spotted them and broke away from the conversation to greet them. She was wearing a shimmering silver dress trimmed in black and tied at the waist with a black silk sash. It laced up the sides of her torso and the undersides of her arms with black silk ribbons, and there were slits up either side of her full skirt, though one could barely tell through the folds of the material. A black shawl was draped about her shoulders, and a pendant set with a sapphire hung from her neck.
The elleth bowed to Legolas and Ecthelion as they neared the group.
"Good e'en," she said politely, her voice faintly inflected with an accent that was unfamiliar to the princes' ears.
"Good evening to you, as well, milady," Legolas returned, bowing at the waist. "Might I inquire as to your identity, and those of your companions?"
The elleth's smile was small and secretive. "Ah, but I am unable to reveal that 'til after the ceremonies," she said, eyes twinkling with what seemed to be amusement. She met Legolas' silver gaze steadily. "I know already whom the two of you are."
Ecthelion blinked, taken aback. "You do?"
She smiled at him. "Of course," she said. "It would not do for emissaries to not be familiar with the local sovereigns and their kin."
Legolas shook his head, spotting his best friend, Abriel, and her family out of the corner of his eye. "Well, milady, it has been a pleasure to meet you, and I am certain that we shall be introduced later in the night," he said. "I have someone whom I need to greet, though. I hope that you shall excuse me."
The elleth nodded with a benign grin. "Say hello to the young Sirien for me."
Startled, Legolas was about to ask her how she knew, but by the time he gathered the words to himself, she had already turned away.
Shaking his head, Legolas turned and, leaving Ecthelion to greet their parents, headed over to where Abriel and her family were conversing with a young couple. His best friend's eyes met his as he drew abreast to them, dancing with mirth and good cheer as was often her wont. Abriel's smile was gentle and secretive as she beckoned for him to follow her and moved off into the trees.
Curiously, Legolas trailed after her, hearing the sound of kettle drums beginning to beat out a steady rhythm behind him. Deeper and deeper into the woods, farther and farther off the beaten path Abriel led him, until finally she stopped and leaned against a beech tree, bare of its leaves for the winter. Her eyes studied him silently for a moment, and he took the time to observe her.
Abriel was wearing a dress. It was an uncommon sight, to be sure, but Legolas found that he liked the way the white fabric, embroidered and trimmed in forest green, hugged the swell of her hips and the gentle curves of her breasts. He caught himself staring, and looked away with a faint blush of embarrassment.
He cleared his throat to mask his unease.
"What is it that you wish to speak of?" Legolas asked after a second.
"Not much," Abriel said with a shrug. "I adore Adarion and Eldawen on most occasions, but there comes a point in time when even I am unable to stand idle chatter anymore."
Legolas lifted an eyebrow. "You? Unable to take idle banter?" He affected an expression of disbelief, and Abriel cast him an incredulous look.
"I have limits to my patience, Legolas, and you would do well to remember it," she said. "Just because you are the Crown Prince does not mean that I will not give you a thorough lesson in the meaning of discretion."
He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Abriel scowled.
"Get your mind out of the gutter!" she snapped. Legolas blinked.
"My mind was not in the gutter," he said. Abriel's face flared red, and she sputtered for a second before she turned away. There was silence for a little while; then Legolas cleared his throat again.
"Was there something in particular that you wished to discuss with me, Abriel?" he inquired quietly. She heaved a sigh, seeming to be exasperated, and turned back to him.
"Actually, there was," she admitted, and then paused for a time. "Have you... Have you ever considered marrying, Legolas?"
Legolas blinked at the sudden, strange inquiry, and then nodded. "I've had propositions made, of course."
"I meant to ask if you have really ever had to consider it."
Legolas tilted his head to the side, finally noticing the unease with which Abriel was speaking, the way her shoulders were held stiff and the way she had caught her bottom lip between her teeth with her uncertainty.
"I have had to seriously consider one or two of the proposals, yes," he said at last, suddenly finding the toes of his shoes rather interesting. "I've never accepted any of them, though."
There was a terse pause.
"Why?" Legolas looked up at his best friend to see her staring at him in wary curiosity. He thought for a moment, taken aback by the question, but finally shrugged.
"Honestly?" He opened his mouth to speak again, but then closed it again as a thought came unbidden into his mind.
"I do not know," he replied at length, deciding to forgo the other reply that had formulated itself. Abriel blinked in surprise.
"You do not know?" she echoed.
"I do not rightfully know, no," he repeated patiently, and then cast her a curious glance. "Why do you ask?"
Abriel seemed surprised for a second, and then her cheeks heated again and she looked away. Then realization hit Legolas like the strike of a cave troll.
"You have had a proposition," he stated, some disbelief making itself home in his heart. Abriel bowed her head.
"Yes," she replied. Legolas tried to act happy for her, but he found that he could not, for some reason, banish the dull ache that had settled into his chest.
"Who?" he asked. Abriel swallowed with some difficulty, still appearing uneasy.
"He is an elf from Lothlórien," she said quietly. "His name is Baranlas." She paused, still appearing discomfited. "It would be a good match, a solid one, and I am sure that I could come to love him in time, at least as a friend."
There was a silence for a short eternity.
"Why do you confide this in me?" Legolas asked, his voice strangely pained as he gazed at his best friend. He guessed that his emotions were plain in his eyes, but he did not care at the moment, for if she married this Baranlas fellow, then she would leave Legolas. He did not want that to happen, but he refrained from blurting that out, for it would be improper.
"Because I seek your advice, Legolas," Abriel told him, her summer-green eyes pleading and her voice desperate as she looked to him. "I do not truly want to marry him!"
"Then do not!" Legolas returned, a brief flash of anger making his voice snap. His feet carried him closer to her, and before he knew it, he had braced his hands against the tree she leaned on, her head between his arms with his grey-green sleeves dangling inches away from her on either side. Their faces were a mere half-foot apart.
"If you do not wish to marry him, then tell him so and be done with it!" he hissed. "I know that if I had propositioned someone, if she did not want me, then I would wish her to tell me straight out and soon, so that I would not have to wait for her reply. The waiting is the hardest part, Abriel, and to prolong such a thing is sheer cruelty."
"Who would you rather I marry, then?" she asked plaintively. Legolas closed his eyes, tormented with the deceptively simple question. When he opened them again, he found himself floundering for an answer as his gaze met her own heated and desperate one.
"I would almost rather you marry an orc than someone called Baranlas!" he exclaimed incredulously, raising an eyebrow at her. She blinked once, twice, and then snorted and shook her head as a small smile came to her face.
"You would say that," she sighed. Then she chuckled and slipped out from his embrace to dance back along the path they had come on.
"I shall not marry Baranlas, then," she said, eyes twinkling. "I cannot, if my best friend and prince does not approve of the match."
Legolas nodded, feigning arrogance. "Good," he said, "then I shall not have to hound him with threats of what I shall do to him should harm ever befall you." He cast her a sidelong glance as he came abreast of her. "Tradition and friendly duty, you know."
Abriel laughed, and they raced each other back to the clearing.
Upon their arrival at the place of the festivities, Legolas and Abriel were immediately swept into a lively dance, whirling around and around.
When the song ended, they broke away, laughing, to each get a goblet of Dorwinion. Then they stood at the edge of the glade, talking and drinking as only longtime friends were wont to do. Eventually they made their rounds, going to the fortune-tellers, running between the two bonfires that were set up at one end of the clearing, and also eating their fill from the banquet laid out. When they were done, they huddled with a small group around a storyteller who was spinning a tale of adventure and intrigue, something about a man named Bransen and a magical sword. The duo left that narrator's gathering soon after for another lively dance.
It was nearly midnight when the last song was played, and Thranduil stood up from his throne, his cheeks flushed from several dances that he and Andiach had taken part in. He raised his hands in a gesture calling for silence, and a hush fell over the attendees.
"My people, friends and family all of you," he began, addressing those gathered after lowering his arms. "It has been a night to remember already, for certain." He paused as a short cheer went up among the gathered. Legolas raised his voice and his right arm in a whoop that was simultaneously echoed by all of the members of the Greenwood military who were gathered at present. The Crown Prince saw his father's smile widen fractionally.
"There is one more thing to do tonight," Thranduil went on. His voice grew more sedate. "There are amongst us this night a number of visitors from a far-off land, elves come to take a night's rest beneath the boughs of our great forest. They have offered to us a great gift in light of tonight's celebration." Thranduil paused, eyes briefly flicking to his wife before he focused back upon the crowd.
"I must ask you all to please remain calm, and do not interfere, despite what you may feel."
Legolas' brow furrowed at these words, wondering what his father meant by them. Honestly, the way the king was speaking, one would think that the visitors were going to make a blood sacrifice!
Legolas saw Thranduil's eyes flick toward the end of the clearing opposite the chairs. An instant later, there came the loud boom of a kettle drum. Some of the elves around Legolas jumped, and everyone in the clearing turned to look at the source of the noise. Then, slowly, they all moved to press themselves back into a ring at the edges of the glade. Legolas glimpsed a couple of the off-duty patrolmen taking to the trees for a better view.
At the opposite end of the clearing, the dark-haired elves from earlier were sitting with various instruments in a half-circle, all of them facing the knotted chairs where Thranduil, Andiach, and Ecthelion were standing. Not a single pair of silver, green, or blue eyes was open, all hands upon their instruments. Staring at the tools, Legolas counted no less than five drums of various sizes, along with two violins, a tambourine, a lute, and a harp.
The only exception to this was the elleth whom Legolas had met earlier. She was standing in the middle of the semicircle with her eyes closed and head bowed, the raven fringe of the bangs on the right side of her head falling into her face. Her bangs on the left side of her forehead were braided back over the crest of her head and into the thick braid hanging to her waist.
A hushed silence fell over the clearing for an instant.
Then the harpist began to play a fast-paced, upbeat melody. She was shortly joined by the lute-player, who echoed her with a harmony that proved to be a haunting counterpoint, his fingers deftly moving over the strings.
As soon as the first note rang out, the raven-haired female began to dance, her feet moving in ever-increasing circles, then flowing into smooth lines, as she moved out of the half-circle and into the wider clearing. Her arms came out to her sides, presumably for balance, and then she began to move them to the music, tracing invisible patterns into the air.
For several moments, this song- slow for a jig, but too fast to be anything else- continued, and the elleth made her way around the clearing. She ducked and spun, leaped and twisted. Once, she even jumped straight up and then twisted her body horizontally so that she did a barrel roll in midair, her arms extending halfway out in front of her for leverage. She came down and landed, catlike, with her feet splayed to absorb the shock, one hand barely touching the ground and the other extended behind her for balance. The movements reminded Legolas of a deer running through the forest, and he found his heart pounding to the beat of the drum, his blood humming in his veins. The magic passed down to him through his mother's bloodline tingled, and he fought to restrain himself from joining in this strange dance.
A lingering note echoed from the harp before fading away.
The elleth had come full circle from where she started, and was now standing as she had been before, hands at her sides and head bowed. Then, suddenly, one of the drummers began to beat out a steady rhythm upon his instrument, the small stick tapping upon the stretched deerskin to produce a deep, ringing bass tone.
Raven fringe and raven braid barely moved at all as the elleth snapped out a hand to her side, catching a long, thick bundle that had been tossed at her. With a hiss of metal on leather, she drew a pair of twin swords, each about as long as Legolas' forearm. The shining blades were slightly curved, and at the tips of them, a short hook stretched back along the tops of the blades. Legolas could see the edges from where he was, and knew in an instant that the weapons were no mere props; these blades could part flesh and snap bone just as easily as they spun through the air in the elleth's deft hands.
The elleth, in the meanwhile, had begun to move to the fast beat, a footstep for every five beats of the drum or so. Soon enough, another drum added its lighter tone to the first, and then a third and a fourth joined in, followed by the fifth. Then, among the ringing of the whirling blades as the elleth brought them together with a clash, there came the sudden sound of a pair of pipes. Legolas glanced over to see that the lute player had taken up a forked pipe; the harpist next to him had put a flute to her lips.
An upbeat tune that reminded Legolas of mountains, of a bird's flight, met his ears, broken by the beat of the drums and the rhythmic clang of the blades of the elleth as she performed her complex sword dance.
In the midst of a particularly swift and violent series of movements, Legolas felt a small hand slip into his own and clasp tightly. He looked over to Abriel, feeling short of breath. Her green eyes, flecked with gold, were wide and slightly glazed, her lips just barely parted as her chest heaved. Legolas could almost feel her heart pounding in time with his, in time with the heady beat of the music. The sensual dance was alluring and beautiful in its deceptive seduction, possessed of the same intensity required of battle, of the hunt, of a fight for the sake of one's life.
A sudden crescendo of the music brought their attention back to the dance, and Legolas watched as the the dancer's lithe body suddenly seemed to collapse in the middle of the clearing whilst the violinist drew out a long note and the drummers gradually quieted. Both her arms were extended out to either side of her kneeling body, the blades laid flat against the grassy earth. The elves in the clearing had the time to take a single breath. Then the note softened and the harpist began to play again.
This song was much slower than the other two, and had a sad, haunting tone to it. It instantly made tears spring to Legolas' eyes as the pain of a thousand winters' deaths seemed to assail him. He felt Abriel's hand trembling in his, and he tightened his grip comfortingly.
The elleth slowly rose to her feet in a fluid motion that made it seem as though she was not moving of her own accord, and after a second, she thrust both swords into the ground. Then her lithe body began to twist and turn in place, swaying to and fro as though with the motion of the sea. In a second, she began to sing.
The lyrics were heart-wrenchingly sad, telling of ages passing, of the grief of a mother, of the freezing winters and the warm summers. The elleth's voice was a low, husky alto as she sang through the movements that carried her around the circle and back to her fellows. Then, the melody picked up speed.
It sped faster, and faster, and the elleth began to dance faster and faster, twirling and swaying in place. When the kettle drum suddenly boomed behind her, she leapt forward and tumbled into a roll. The dancer came up smoothly as a churning wave, and the drum boomed again.
Legolas thought of thunder and a tumultuous sea as she jumped, cartwheeled, and somersaulted back to her blades. She leapt into a forward roll, coming up between the swords. Her hands clasped around the hilts at just the right time.
A second later, she pushed hard off of the ground, drawing out the blades and moving into a back-flip that carried her almost ten feet. The elleth met the ground with her swords parallel to it, performing a handspring that landed her back among her companions. Then, with a beat of the kettle drum, the elleth performed a twin strike with her swords. Another beat saw her bringing the weapons out to her right in a dual-bladed slash that Legolas had no doubt would have bisected an enemy. A final beat of the drum sounded, and the elleth stopped moving.
She held her left-handed sword behind her back over her left shoulder- where, Legolas surmised, she would have caught an incoming strike- and her right-handed sword was held straight out in front of her in a forceful thrust. Most of her weight was centered over her right leg, which she had sunk onto so that her knee was bent at an acute angle; her left leg was almost fully extended out to her side.
A heartbeat passed.
Then the kettle drum rang one more time, and the elleth relaxed, crossing the blades before her and bowing her head again.
The instrumentalists rose as one, their instruments in their arms, and turned toward the forest.
Finally, after the instrumentalists had departed, the elleth raised her head. Her silver eyes flashed open, hazy with the pulse-pounding excitement of the dances. She extended both swords out to her sides, and then took a knee in an unmistakable bow. Then she rose again and exited the clearing after her companions.
Silence reigned for several moments before hushed whispers broke out all through the gathering. Legolas turned to Abriel just as she turned to him.
He would never know what made him do it, but he later supposed that it was the fault of the sensuality of the dance and the liberation provided by the Dorwinion that made him gather the nerve to lean down and kiss Abriel gently on her mouth.
When they parted and opened their eyes a second later, the people had broken into enthusiastic applause for the return of the raven-haired elleth and her companions. Legolas did not let go of Abriel's hand as he turned and saluted the dancer and the musicians.
A few seconds passed, and then Thranduil stood and raised his hands once more. Silence fell much more gradually over the populace, this time.
"A stunning performance," he said to the raven-haired elleth, sounding slightly breathless. She bowed her head modestly.
"We thank you, Aran Thranduil, for allowing us to perform," she returned. "We are grateful that you were willing to allow us to share a part of our culture with you and your people."
Thranduil nodded with a smile, and then addressed the populace. "My people, I give you Lady Dínenweth and her companions!"
A cheer went up among the elves who were gathered in the clearing as Dínenweth and her entourage turned and bowed. Legolas briefly closed his eyes, and then smiled down at Abriel when he felt her squeeze his hand.
When he finally returned to his chambers in the wee hours of the morning, Legolas fell asleep with a smile on his face and the beat of a drum in his heart.
Kudos to anyone who managed to catch the 'Saga of the First King' reference.
Muindor-nin - 'My (blood) brother'.
Elleth - 'She-elf'.
Sirien - 'Daughter of the Stream'. Abriel's surname, denoting her parentage.
Adarion - 'Son of Father'. A patrolman of Greenwood and Eldawen's husband.
Eldawen - 'Elf-maiden'. A patrolman of Greenwood and Adarion's wife.
Baranlas - 'Red-gold Leaf'. An elf of Lothlorien.
Dorwinion - A potent wine made in the country southeast of Greenwood.
Aran - 'King'.
Dínenweth - 'Silent Shadow'. An elleth who has come as an emissary to Greenwood.
A note on Samhain and a few of its traditions:
The word 'Bonefire' is not a typo. The word is actually a precursor to the common 'bonfire', and refers to the large fires built in traditional Samhain and Beltane celebrations. People would throw bones and antlers into the fires. When the fires were lit, all other fires would be doused, and then each family would relight their hearth fire using a brand from the bonefires. Also, in a ritual of purification, the people would walk between two bonefires, and would sometimes drive cattle between them, as well.
To perform divinations, people would peel apples and toss the skins over their shoulders; the shapes the peels formed would be examined to see if they formed the first letter of the name of the peeler's future spouse. Nuts were roasted on the hearth and then their movements were interpreted; if the nuts stayed together, so would the couple. Also, egg whites were dropped into water to determine the number of future children. Some of these things would also be determined by the actions of crows when they were chased by children.
In some cultures, Samhain is also a festival of the dead, in which the dead are honored and gods of the dead are prayed to.
I do realize that the elves would not likely use the word Samhain, but I found that it might be appropriate. After all, Tolkien never states the name for such a thing.
Hope you all enjoyed it, and I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have.
Thank you for reading!
-Fanatic