Never opened myself this way
# Some stories begin with the words "he was born" and end with the words "he died" and even though I will also begin my story with these very same words the second phrase will immediately follow the first. #
A tall slender figure sat at a small table writing in a blank book. It had been years before that day that he had seen that thick journal in an expensive shop and at that moment he had decided that that book would be filled with the adventures and tragedy of his life. It was evening and he had closed his smithy for the day when he had found the book again and decided that he would star to write down the journey of his life.
# I was born to a pair who was deeply in love with each other and already had two sons who had both yet to reach adulthood. While the first to births of the woman had been uncomplicated and fast this third was difficult and stretched already over many hours. Only the husband of the woman in labour and a healer were present when the child, myself, was finally born. The child was immediately handed to the father as the mother had stopped breathing as soon as her child was born. To the husband it was clear that his wife was death as the bond they shared was gone, in a fit of grief and rage he turned on his new-born child who have yet to utter his first cry and closed his hand around his small neck.
I am not sure what had happened after my father killed me – for that is what he did – but I was days later found by a fisher floating in the waters of the Celduin. It was with him and his wife that I spent the first decade of my life. Carnil was the name they gave, the name of a red star as my hair is of a dark red colour – a colour that is strangely reminiscent of the life blood of the edain, the men.
Years later, when first the fisher and later his wife died I regretted that I did not tell them who I really was, even though I believe that they have guessed at least part of i.
The name I was born with is Legolas, son of Thranduil and Silruinel, king and queen of the realm of Mirkwood. By the grace of the Valar I was reborn as an Aratarhen, a child of the Valar after my father had killed me. To this day I am one of two Aratarhin, the other is Lord Glorfindel of the house of the Golden Flower he was send back shortly after I was born and killed.
A birthmark in form of a rank of leaves marks me as a member of the royal family of Mirkwood in direct line of the throne, though I doubt that I would need it as a prove as I look exactly like my mother with the only exception that I am male. I have the same blood red hair as her as well as her dark green eyes that darken further when enraged.
That is something else I never told my foster parents: my memories start with the moment I was conceived. I am able to remember how loving my father was before I was born, how much my mother wanted me and how my older brothers planned to teach me how to shoot an arrow or how to dance.
All this I was robbed of the moment my mother died and my father submitted to his grief. I often wondered if it would have been better if I had died that day or if I didn't have those memories but everytime I come to the conclusion that it is better to remember my mother and my brothers. For my father I can't feel anything but contemned and hate: he killed me and damned me to a life away from my family, my kin.
I had many professions over the more then three thousand years I have lived some I'm proud of but others I would like to forget. A few centuries back I worked as an assassin, killing on command of the Steward of Gondor, when he died I left Minas Tirith for a lifetime of men only coming back when his great grandson ruled and the assassin Carnil was long forgotten.
Currently I'm working once again as a smith – this time a blacksmith as the current steward has no desire for fancy trinkets of any kind, though I have yet to decline if one of the nobles requests of me to create for them a jewel.
Even though I have travelled most of Middle Earth I have yet to see any of the Elven Realms for fear that I might meet my father. As an elf I feel the ever growing darkness and it is for that reason I bought this book and decided to write down my life. When this book is filled I will leave Middle earth, whether it may be to Valinor or the halls of Mandos I am not sure but I know that it is unlikely that I will ever find happiness on this shores. #
The elf lay down his quill and stared out of the small window in the wall. He did not know what called out to him but he had to leave his home, a small flat above his smithy and roam the streets of the city. It had been years since he had last entered one of the taverns but everything urged him to do so on that star-less night.
To late he saw the two elves in the back of the tavern who had already spotted him and were waving him over for even though he had opted to wear his long hair open and covering his pointed ears he was unmistakably an elf. Grudgingly he made his way over to the two elves who had to be twins for they looked almost exactly like each other.
"We didn't know that there was an other of the first born in Minas Tirith! My name is Elladan son of Elrond of Imladris and this is my brother Elrohir, with whom may we have the honour?"
As Elladan spoke an image flickered in Legolas mind sending him pictures of an other set of twins, images of his companions father and uncle who had chosen the life of a mortal.
"My name is Carnil, it is a joy to see others of our race here in the White city."
Legolas did now miss the frown that passed over the twins face at hearing his name for even though the world of men had forgotten the assassin Carnil who roamed Middle Earth a few centuries prior in the eyes of the eldar hardly any time had passed.
"May I inquire what brings elves to Minas Tirith? It has been centuries since the last one came and at that time I wasn't able to make contact with him."
Yes, it had been centuries ago that an elf had come to Minas Tirith but it hadn't been so much that he was unable to meet him then that he was unwilling for it had been his brother, the second born of Thranduil and Silruinel and while these elves from Imladris had no possibility of recognising him his own brother would have immediately known who he was.
"We just came to see the city our father talked so much about and it really is rather beautiful for a city of men."
"That it is, but Minas Ithil was of much greater beauty then Minas Anor could ever achieve. It is sad to see the great cities of men fall as will our own when the time comes for our kind to leave this shores."
Legolas noticed how much this choice of to topic disturbed the twins, for them death seemed yet to be something unknown – as it should to himself Legolas mused, he had long ago given up on bitterness at his life that was so much harder then it should have been for one born a prince. But was he really born a prince? Had not the prince been killed, murdered by his own father? Reborn had been another, Carnil, who shared only a resemblance in body with the dead prince.
Fascinated Legolas watched as the twins communicated with glances and slight movements of their heads and hands what would have meant nothing to an untrained eye but to Carnil the elf and assassin a whole conversation unfolded before his eyes, one he only partly understood. At last Elrohir turned to him after only seconds of glancing at his brother:
"We are heading home in four days and would like for you to accompany us, adar always welcomes guests and if you have been living so long among men you might want to stay among our kind for a while..."
Elrohirs invitation had taken Legolas momentarily of guard but he had no other choice than accepting it, as his presence was now known to two elves and he could be sure that they would tell others. Even if they would not connect him with the royal house of Mirkwood they would still be able to recognise him as the assassin, something he dreaded almost the same.
It were for that reasons that four days later three elves left the White city of Gondor to travel to the Last Homely House even though Legolas knew that in coming with the twins he ensured that his identity would be discovered. What does it matter though he asked himself, I have long ago given up on my life, so why should I not leave this world ensuring that my father is known for what he truly is?
They reached the hidden valley of Imladris on their and were met at the gates by the Lord and Lady of Imladris, welcoming their returning sons and guest. Even though Legolas had seen the valley often in his dreams and visions he was fascinated by its beauty but a small part told him, that his own home was equally beautiful and that if he would have been allowed to grew up and live there he would prefer it to Imladris.
Please review and tell me what you think of this beginning!
# Some stories begin with the words "he was born" and end with the words "he died" and even though I will also begin my story with these very same words the second phrase will immediately follow the first. #
A tall slender figure sat at a small table writing in a blank book. It had been years before that day that he had seen that thick journal in an expensive shop and at that moment he had decided that that book would be filled with the adventures and tragedy of his life. It was evening and he had closed his smithy for the day when he had found the book again and decided that he would star to write down the journey of his life.
# I was born to a pair who was deeply in love with each other and already had two sons who had both yet to reach adulthood. While the first to births of the woman had been uncomplicated and fast this third was difficult and stretched already over many hours. Only the husband of the woman in labour and a healer were present when the child, myself, was finally born. The child was immediately handed to the father as the mother had stopped breathing as soon as her child was born. To the husband it was clear that his wife was death as the bond they shared was gone, in a fit of grief and rage he turned on his new-born child who have yet to utter his first cry and closed his hand around his small neck.
I am not sure what had happened after my father killed me – for that is what he did – but I was days later found by a fisher floating in the waters of the Celduin. It was with him and his wife that I spent the first decade of my life. Carnil was the name they gave, the name of a red star as my hair is of a dark red colour – a colour that is strangely reminiscent of the life blood of the edain, the men.
Years later, when first the fisher and later his wife died I regretted that I did not tell them who I really was, even though I believe that they have guessed at least part of i.
The name I was born with is Legolas, son of Thranduil and Silruinel, king and queen of the realm of Mirkwood. By the grace of the Valar I was reborn as an Aratarhen, a child of the Valar after my father had killed me. To this day I am one of two Aratarhin, the other is Lord Glorfindel of the house of the Golden Flower he was send back shortly after I was born and killed.
A birthmark in form of a rank of leaves marks me as a member of the royal family of Mirkwood in direct line of the throne, though I doubt that I would need it as a prove as I look exactly like my mother with the only exception that I am male. I have the same blood red hair as her as well as her dark green eyes that darken further when enraged.
That is something else I never told my foster parents: my memories start with the moment I was conceived. I am able to remember how loving my father was before I was born, how much my mother wanted me and how my older brothers planned to teach me how to shoot an arrow or how to dance.
All this I was robbed of the moment my mother died and my father submitted to his grief. I often wondered if it would have been better if I had died that day or if I didn't have those memories but everytime I come to the conclusion that it is better to remember my mother and my brothers. For my father I can't feel anything but contemned and hate: he killed me and damned me to a life away from my family, my kin.
I had many professions over the more then three thousand years I have lived some I'm proud of but others I would like to forget. A few centuries back I worked as an assassin, killing on command of the Steward of Gondor, when he died I left Minas Tirith for a lifetime of men only coming back when his great grandson ruled and the assassin Carnil was long forgotten.
Currently I'm working once again as a smith – this time a blacksmith as the current steward has no desire for fancy trinkets of any kind, though I have yet to decline if one of the nobles requests of me to create for them a jewel.
Even though I have travelled most of Middle Earth I have yet to see any of the Elven Realms for fear that I might meet my father. As an elf I feel the ever growing darkness and it is for that reason I bought this book and decided to write down my life. When this book is filled I will leave Middle earth, whether it may be to Valinor or the halls of Mandos I am not sure but I know that it is unlikely that I will ever find happiness on this shores. #
The elf lay down his quill and stared out of the small window in the wall. He did not know what called out to him but he had to leave his home, a small flat above his smithy and roam the streets of the city. It had been years since he had last entered one of the taverns but everything urged him to do so on that star-less night.
To late he saw the two elves in the back of the tavern who had already spotted him and were waving him over for even though he had opted to wear his long hair open and covering his pointed ears he was unmistakably an elf. Grudgingly he made his way over to the two elves who had to be twins for they looked almost exactly like each other.
"We didn't know that there was an other of the first born in Minas Tirith! My name is Elladan son of Elrond of Imladris and this is my brother Elrohir, with whom may we have the honour?"
As Elladan spoke an image flickered in Legolas mind sending him pictures of an other set of twins, images of his companions father and uncle who had chosen the life of a mortal.
"My name is Carnil, it is a joy to see others of our race here in the White city."
Legolas did now miss the frown that passed over the twins face at hearing his name for even though the world of men had forgotten the assassin Carnil who roamed Middle Earth a few centuries prior in the eyes of the eldar hardly any time had passed.
"May I inquire what brings elves to Minas Tirith? It has been centuries since the last one came and at that time I wasn't able to make contact with him."
Yes, it had been centuries ago that an elf had come to Minas Tirith but it hadn't been so much that he was unable to meet him then that he was unwilling for it had been his brother, the second born of Thranduil and Silruinel and while these elves from Imladris had no possibility of recognising him his own brother would have immediately known who he was.
"We just came to see the city our father talked so much about and it really is rather beautiful for a city of men."
"That it is, but Minas Ithil was of much greater beauty then Minas Anor could ever achieve. It is sad to see the great cities of men fall as will our own when the time comes for our kind to leave this shores."
Legolas noticed how much this choice of to topic disturbed the twins, for them death seemed yet to be something unknown – as it should to himself Legolas mused, he had long ago given up on bitterness at his life that was so much harder then it should have been for one born a prince. But was he really born a prince? Had not the prince been killed, murdered by his own father? Reborn had been another, Carnil, who shared only a resemblance in body with the dead prince.
Fascinated Legolas watched as the twins communicated with glances and slight movements of their heads and hands what would have meant nothing to an untrained eye but to Carnil the elf and assassin a whole conversation unfolded before his eyes, one he only partly understood. At last Elrohir turned to him after only seconds of glancing at his brother:
"We are heading home in four days and would like for you to accompany us, adar always welcomes guests and if you have been living so long among men you might want to stay among our kind for a while..."
Elrohirs invitation had taken Legolas momentarily of guard but he had no other choice than accepting it, as his presence was now known to two elves and he could be sure that they would tell others. Even if they would not connect him with the royal house of Mirkwood they would still be able to recognise him as the assassin, something he dreaded almost the same.
It were for that reasons that four days later three elves left the White city of Gondor to travel to the Last Homely House even though Legolas knew that in coming with the twins he ensured that his identity would be discovered. What does it matter though he asked himself, I have long ago given up on my life, so why should I not leave this world ensuring that my father is known for what he truly is?
They reached the hidden valley of Imladris on their and were met at the gates by the Lord and Lady of Imladris, welcoming their returning sons and guest. Even though Legolas had seen the valley often in his dreams and visions he was fascinated by its beauty but a small part told him, that his own home was equally beautiful and that if he would have been allowed to grew up and live there he would prefer it to Imladris.
Please review and tell me what you think of this beginning!