The royal family of Gondor had been protected for millions of years. It is said that Gondor stood for thousands of years before time was counted, and that an angel has protected their royal family for not so long before it started to be. It is said that the legendary King Elessar, also called Aragorn and many other names, was the first to be protected by this angel. There are many things in King Elessar's legend that can be doubted. It is said that he was raised by elves from a young age, and that he indeed married one after a fantastic adventure involving a dark lord, a wizard, a dwarf and - of all things - four hobbits. As it were, history has grown to doubt the legend of the great King Elessar. For no such creatures existed. And yet, the legend of the angel is never doubted. The royal family of Gondor had long since lost the gift of long life - though every once in awhile a king lived far more than was natural. Most attributed this to good genetics, but there are those that say it is the doing of the silver haired angel that guards the royal family. Most members of the royal family believe this legend wholeheartedly. But there are always a few doubters.
One such doubter was the princess Danielle. She had black hair and blue eyes, so like the ancient queen of Elessar said to be an elf. And yet, she believe naught of the old legend. However, Princess Danielle is not the hero of this story- for she is merely the catalyst. The hero of this story, is her younger brother called Henry or Hal by his friends. Hal was the youngest of three children. There was his elder sister Danielle, and his elder brother and the crown prince of Gondor, Roman.
Hal had heard the legend of King Elessar since he was young. He had been tutored by the one person who had known the entire story of it. Including the ring of power, the elves and - most excitingly - the angel. The angel had enchanted Hal from a very young age, ever since he first heard the words whispered above his crib by an old maid. He remembered her saying that the angel would smile down upon him, for he resembled the beautiful paintings of King Elessar hung in the library. No one was sure how the painting was so advanced, and some believed that it was, in fact, a rendition of an early painting done by a newer artist. However, there was no proof to deny or secure the claim.
It was not too much later that Hal learnt to walk and speak. Though he was only eighteen months, it seemed as if his development had been shone upon by something unnatural. At first, his mother was scared by it. She thought that his unnaturally fast development was going to hurt him later in life, but his father smiled and laughed, saying simply that his youngest son was a genius. The first question Hal had ever asked was after the angel.
"Angel?" Hal had said, his voice still soggy with the proof of his young age. Though he could speak, he was unable to form actual sentences.
"You want to know of the angel, Hal?" the king had asked, causing Hal to nod fervently, "All right, I see no qualms in telling you of the legend;
It is said that hundred of thousands of years ago, King Elessar befriended an angel at a young age. It was said that this angel had been locked away most his entire life. It was said he was locked in a castle made of trees and jewels by the king of wood and stone. Though it was not a malevolent imprisonment, the angel wished to escape. And escape he did, to the Last Homely House when a counsel was called to discuss the threat of a dark lord.
"However, the angel found nothing but hate and prejudice within the confines of the Last Homely House, for they knew naught of tolerance for the angel or the people of the King of Wood and Stone; whom had imprisoned the angel. The angel knew nothing of the world, for he had never seen it. And as such ended up embarrassing himself greatly. Despite this, the angel was chosen for a very important quest. He was to be sent all about earth to destroy the dangers of the dark lord. Over his travels he befriended two people; the great King Elessar, who was at that time a prince the world was unaware of and called Aragorn son of Arathorn and his greatest enemy, a dwarf named Gimli son of Gloin.
"The angel traveled with this band for nearly a year or more, and he helped Aragorn regain his throne and become the great King Elessar after the defeat of the dark lord. The angel pledged his service and friendship to Elessar, for he loved Elessar greatly and would dare not let the king be without his divine protection. And when the king was old and on his deathbed he made one request of his angel; to protect is posterity. All those that came after him. Now, at this time the angel was saddened for he missed the King of Wood and Stone greatly and wished to join him across the sea, but he would not leave Elessar's wish ungranted.
"And though he grieved the loss of Elessar and his queen Arwen, and though he missed the King of Wood and Stone, he stayed. He was a common fixture in the castle and as such nobody was alarmed that he remained even after Elessar died. And here the angel remained; long after the loss of Elessar and his greatest friend Gimli, long after the passing of the King of Wood and Stone for the angel breaks not his promise and stays here to protect this family," the king said, his smooth baritone bringing to life the story he told. Hal stared up at his father with wide silver eyes, his little mouth curled up in a smile.
"Can I?" Hal asked, excitement growing at the thought of seeing the angel.
"You wish to see the angel?" Hal nodded, "Oh, Hal. The angel isn't real. He is a story, just like that of King Elessar. There was a King Elessar, and there may have been a man fairer than any maid that was mistaken for an angel, but the legend is just that; a legend. Even if that man did exist, he would be long dead by now."
"No!" Hal crawled off his father's lap and tottered off, determined to find the angel. The young babe made his way through the castle, paying no attention to the hired help. Though the year was 2000 and the royal family no longer ruled, they were still an important part of the country. Figureheads, similar to the queen of England, and as such the palace must be kept in order. The hired help were quite used to seeing the small prince tottle along and as such paid as much mind to him as he did to them.
Eventually, Hal began to tire. Though he did not want to give up his search for the angel, and instead went onto all fours so as to crawl instead of walk around. Through the stone corridors and hardwood floors, the prince of Gondor look everywhere he could think of to find the angel he so wished to see. After hours of tedious and fruitless searching, Hal could take naught more and collapsed on the floor crying. Unfortunately, the royal babe had managed to get himself into the old, unused dungeons and as such no servants or family could hear his sobs. Within minutes he had managed to cry himself into a fitful sleep.
Above the dungeons, a great panic swept through the castle as they all searched for the youngest prince. No one was willing to admit that they had not seen fit to follow the babe to wherever he had been going. The oldest prince, at nine years old, had an arm wrapped around Danielle, the young princess only five. The king screamed himself hoarse at any servant that stopped their searching, all the while his arm was wet with the tears of the sobbing queen.
In the shadows of the dungeons, stood a young man. He was tall as a young tree and slender as one as well, no fairer face there could be in the world, for his beauty outstreaked that of women by far. Long silver blond hair fell loosely around the angel's shoulders, and beautiful ever-changing eyes peered down at the royal babe who resembled his ancestor so much. The angel made his way to the babe and gently lifted him.
"You are as reckless in this life as you were in the last," the angel whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the child. Hal's eyes opened and he blearily stared up at the angel, delighted that he had found the divine being. He had so many questions to ask. And yet, he fell asleep quickly as the angel quietly sang him to sleep. The next thing Hal knew, was being clutched to his mother's breast, having been lifted from his crib.
Seventeen years later, Hal sat at the breakfast table with his siblings. Roman was now twenty-five and Danielle twenty-one, Hal encroaching on his eighteenth birthday. The siblings were having the same argument they had had for years.
"The angel isn't real, Hal, it's a legend made up to comfort scared little princes," Danielle said. Danielle thought she knew everything, just because she had gone to uni in America and had a boyfriend from there. Her boyfriend was an airhead, and it was a shock to Hal how the man had ever gotten to uni in the first place.
"C'mon, Dani, if he wants to believe in angels, let him," Roman said. Though Roman seen naught of the angel as Hal had, he still believed it was real. A fact which Hal was always grateful for.
"Thanks, Rom," Hal said, smiling at the crown prince.
"Dad, can you tell them that they are being absolutely ridiculous? There is no such thing as angels," Danielle said.
"Now, Danielle. If the boys want to believe in the angel, let them. I see no reason to deny them that pleasure. Though I do not personally believe," the king said, sending a stern look to his daughter.
"Yeah, Dani, you've already ruined every other thing for Hal, let him have his angel," Roman said, winking to his younger brother. Hal blushed. It was not his angel.
"The angel is real. I've seen him, he sang to me and saved me from the dungeons," Hal said.
The queen sighed longsufferingly, "Look, Hal, we don't know who saved you from the dungeons all those years ago, but we are very sure it was not some elf!" Hal dropped his fork.
"Elf? Mom, it was an angel," Hal said. The queen looked shocked and stood up.
"I-I am not feeling well, I should go back to bed," the queen said, carefully making her way away from the dining table and out into the halls of the palace. Hal was left confused. Elf? The one that had saved him had been no small person, though the angel had had pointed ears. Maybe that was an attribute of angels? Pointed ears. Yes, but he never mentioned that part to anyone. In fact, he had told no one of what the angel looked like. As it were, Hal was now more determined than ever to find the angel. He knew it lurked somewhere in the castle, for it had sworn it would not leave until Elessar's line died out. Hal resolved himself to finding the angel that night.
Meanwhile, up in the northernmost tower where no one dared venture for the fact that it was thought to be haunted and damaged, sat a lonely prince singing quietly to himself. His sweet voice was so quiet that nobody would hear unless they were in the room with him. As it were, he was alone except for the drawings of those he missed the most. Hundreds of portraits of the same three people were scattered around the room and the northern tower as a whole. They depicted the three figures in all different positions. Though his favourites sat propped up against window sills. One that was propped upon the window facing a mountain was a short man with a long red, braided beard, kind eyes and wavy red hair. He sat atop the slain body of an orc, sneering playfully at someone taller than him and holding his axe carefully on his shoulder.
The second, propped against the window closest to the throne room, held a noble king though he wore no crown. His wavy black hair was stuck to his head with sweat and there was a nasty looking cut on his temple. His beard was scraggly and his clothes unclean with dirt and the blood of his enemies, and despite how grim his lack of smile made him seem, his cocked head and glittering silver eyes gave way to his amusement.
And then there was the third. Set against a window part way between facing the forest and the sea. It held a beautiful king, with long silver hair and an elegant crown of thorns and berries. He was lounging in a throne, his legs crossed and one arm against the throne arm and the other holding aloft a great staff of wood and stone. Despite how noble he seemed, he leant down from his throne and his face was twisted in a happy little smile. One eyebrow was low, and the other raised in amusement. His light eyes glittered with unrivaled love.
Legolas loved these pictures the best, because they showed who the subjects really were. Gimli, subject of the first picture, was often seen as irate, grumpy, and war hungry. Yet Legolas knew his dwarf love was so much more. Gimli was happiest with his elf by his side, a pint in his hand and the battle over. An insult he didn't actually believe on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Aragorn was often seen as grave and determined, yet Legolas knew that that graveness hid a biting wit and a care for others that far surpassed his care for himself. Indeed, Aragorn was happiest with the twin sons of Elrond, or his fellow rangers, or even Legolas himself. And the third. The subject whom Legolas loved with his all. His father, Thranduil, the King of Wood and Stone. Thranduil was seen as vain and harsh and uncaring to all. All, that is, but his only son. Legolas knew how much his father loved him. He knew that his father cared naught for the goings on of other elves, and though he seemed to hold treasure above all else, Legolas knew the truth. There was nothing Thranduil had loved more than the laugh of his son, the way his son sang, the happiness that glittered in his son's eyes almost constantly. There was nothing Thranduil wouldn't give up for Legolas.
"Ada…" Legolas said softly, kneeling before the painting and reaching out to caress the cheek of his father. Legolas closed his eyes, and for just a moment he could feel Thranduil's warm hands on his cheek, his father's soft lips murmuring assurances against his forehead. For a moment, Legolas could fool himself into thinking that his father was still with him. That he had sailed onto the Undying Lands with Thranduil and was safe in his father's arms. There was a crash in one of the lower levels of the castle of Minas Tirith that broke Legolas out of his revelry. The elf flew through the door of the tower and down the steps, hurriedly making his way to the door that opened to the hallway and stairs leading to his refuge. The door was quickly locked, though now that Legolas listened better, he could see that there had been no actual need for his panic as the sound had come from far from his tower. And as much as Legolas hated having to shut himself up in the tower day in and day out, he knew the necessity of it. The sindarin elf sighed in relief as he sunk to a seated position with his back against the door to the north tower.
"How silly am I," Legolas said aloud, his musical voice breaking the silence of the tower, "Being frightened by a crash caused, no doubt, by one of the servants. I have been here too long if such a little thing startles me." Legolas stood and decided to walk all along the rooms and corridors in the north tower, which was surprisingly more complex than just a bunch of stairs and a round room.
All throughout the tower were pictures, all hand drawn. Though Legolas had drawn portraits of everyone he had ever known in detail, portraits of all his memories, there were still threen figures that showed up more often than anyone else. Most often was his father, Thranduil. For Legolas had known him his entire life and as such had many more memories of him, the second most was Gimli the dwarf. Though Legolas had known Aragorn longer, he had more memories with Gimli. The third was Aragorn, often accompanied by others. Sometimes his noldor brothers, or bride. Sometimes his son, Eldarion, and every once in a great while his several daughters. Though Legolas loved all of Aragorn's children, and all Aragorn's children loved Legolas, he was closest to Eldarion, as the girls much preferred to stay inside as opposed to adventuring with the fair elf and his dwarf companion.
Legolas drifted through the tower, as flighty as he had always been. He wore long silver robes, the same thing he had worn to Aragorn's coronation and the coronation of Eldarion and all other coronations he attended. His hair was no longer braided back, him finding no reason for it, and hung loosely around his shoulders. Atop his head he wore his circlet. Despite how long it had existed, there was not a speck of rust on it, for mithril didn't rust. There were days where Legolas hated what he wore, and he contemplated tearing them up and throwing them away for more modern clothing. But then he remembers that these robes were Aragorn's robes, and that the circlet that adorned his head once adorned his father's, and how proud Thranduil looked when Legolas wore it. Whenever he thought of cutting his hair, he remembered that Gimli always liked it best long and free to flow however it wished. And it was his desire to look exactly as his father and friends liked him to when he finally joined them that drove him to change naught of his appearance.
"I do wonder. Can they see me from Valinor? How I wish I had gone with Gimli," Legolas laughed softly, "I had thought my grief would have made me fade long ago, but I suppose that a promise is enough to keep any elf alive."
"Hello?" the voice was muffled and came from behind the door leading into the tower. Had Legolas been anything but an elf, he would not have heard the voice. Then again, had Legolas been anything but an elf he would be with his father and friends. As it were, Legolas was an elf and as such he remained silent so as not to notify the person of his existence.
"I know someone's in there. I heard you talking, and singing earlier." the voice said. Legolas nearly hit himself, knowing it had been foolish to have been singing so close to the window.
"I'm a prince, you can't hide yourself from me! I'll find the key and then I'll find out who you are!" the voice called.
"Rhaich!" Legolas exclaimed quietly to himself, quickly making his way to the door.
Hal stood outside of the northern tower, quite pleased with himself. While it was true that he had actually been searching for the angel, finding an intruder was just as well.
"Were I to let you in here, would you refrain from finding the key and notifying anyone else of my residence here?" the person inside the tower asked. Hal felt a grin spread on his face, and not just at the musically lilting tone of the voice, but also because he had gotten whoever it was to agree to let him in.
"Yes, I will. But only if you let me in," Hal said, smiling.
"Indeed you have left me naught to doubt that you will nay tell a soul should I let you inside my refuge," the person answered. Hal was slightly confused at the old fashioned wording, but not so much that he was unable to understand. Suddenly, there was a loud click as the door was unlocked. Hal smiled and pushed it open, though he didn't find the person whom he had spoken with.
"Hello? Have you gone somewhere?" Hal asked.
"I am here, princeling, worry not," the person said, though Hal couldn't see him anywhere.
"Where?" Hal asked.
"About. I do not wish to be seen, if you will pardon my rudeness," the person said.
"All right, if you like. What's your name?" Hal asked.
"I believe those here call me the angel," the person said. Hal took in a swift breath of air.
"Really? I knew you were real! Danielle and mother and father all said you were a story, but I knew they were wrong! Roman and I always knew you were real! Is that what I call you, then? Angel?" Hal asked. A high pitched giggle that seemed so unfitting to an angel sounded out from the shadows.
"If you desire to, Princeling," Angel said, a smile in his face.
"My name is Hal."
"I am perfectly aware, but I have learnt over the years that calling someone by their name makes you quite attached to them. If you would not mind, Princeling, I'd prefer not to get too attached to yet another of Aragorn's descendents," Angel said.
"So you really did know King Elessar?" Hal asked.
"Indeed. He is all around you, you know," Angel said. Hal looked around him for the first time and found himself surrounded by beautifully done portraits.
"No, not those ones. Further down the hall," Angel said. Hal walked numbly down the halls, "Take a left here." Hal followed the angel's instructions and was met with many pictures of the same man that hung in the library.
"He looks like me," Hal said with a whisper.
"Indeed, but you have known that all your life. A portrait I did of him hangs in the library, does it not?" Angel asked.
"How did you know?" Hal asked.
Angel chuckled, "I was there when it was put up, and I remember making it. Aragorn enjoyed not a minute of having to sit still for it."
"Are you really an angel?"
A soft gasp from the shadows answered him, "I… suppose you could consider me one, though that is not what I truly am."
"What are you, then?" Hal asked.
"Your protector. That is all you must know for now," Angel said.
"What's your real name?"
"Names mean getting attached. I want you as attached to me as I want myself attached to you. Though, I suppose, if you would prefer something other than angel Thranduilion works."
"Thranduilion? That's a long name."
"As I said, I have not told you my true name, for that would be unwise. Thranduilion is something that would not be recognized, as who it is derived from has long been erased from the memory of Men."
"Who is it derived from?"
"You ask many questions, Princeling."
"I'm curious about the angel that lives in my attic." Another short burst of laughter.
"The name is derived from someone very dear to me, you can find pictures of him, if you like. He is in the room directly across from Aragorn's. His name was Thranduil and he took care of me for many years of my life."
Hal wandered into Thranduil's room and took in a sharp breath as he recognized the man from his description in the legend of the angel. Sitting atop an elegant throne in robes with a crown of berries and thorns.
"The King of Wood and Stone…"
"Indeed, that is what he has grown to be called. But I knew him as ada."
"What does ada mean?"
"Mayhap one day I will tell you, mayhap I will not. One is as likely as the other."
"You don't like answering questions, do you?"
"I used to, when I was younger. Alas, I have grown to hate contact as a whole and have taken to shying away."
"Were you a prince?"
"I'm sorry?"
"The way you talk, it makes you sound like all the princes in my books. Are you a prince?"
"Indeed, I am. Though I no longer have any kingdom to rule over."
"Where was your kingdom?"
"There is a forest north of here, in the neighbouring kingdom of Rohan's territory. I know it as Eryn Lasgalen, though I am sure that it has already been given another name."
"Eryn Lasgalen? It now resides under the name Mirkwood, named as such 'cause everyone thought that it was haunted and monsters lived in it."
"Indeed, monsters do live within the confines of Eryn Lasgalen. It was known as Mirkwood when I was young, as well. Though no one would dare say that name around those who lived within the confines of the Greenwood. Nay, to Silvan and Sindarin, and anyone that knew what would be best for their lives and posterity, it was either Eryn Lasgalen or variations of that name."
"What kind of monsters?"
"Terrible ones."
"May I see them someday?"
"How do you feel about spiders?"
"I hate them. Why?"
Thranduilion let out a chuckle, "I do not believe it would be wise for me take you to the woods of my childhood, then. Alas, I cannot blame you. For I do not like the creatures all that much, either."
"They're giant spiders, aren't they!? Oh, that's terrible!"
"Indeed, it is. How old are you?"
"Seventeen. You?"
"Alas, alas, I know not! I have lost count some time around one thousand years ago."
"Whoa! Can I see more pictures?"
"If you would like, you are welcome to poke around. Just do not disturb them in their rest, and feel free to ask as many questions as you would like."
It was hours before Hal grew tired, and even then he had not yet gotten through all the pictures. At one point, in a room filled with pictures of a dark haired man with aggressive eyebrows and a circlet on his head. He was quite attractive, and had the same pointed ears that Hal had seen in the portraits of the King of Wood and Stone, and quite a few others, but he wasn't quite as perfect as they were. It was in this room that Legolas finally swung down from the rafters and looked down at the boy.
"Elrond?" Legolas giggled quietly, "Only the Valar are aware how that old noldor was able to lull the boy to sleep. I would certainly not fall asleep around him."
Legolas bent down and picked the boy up, in a semblance of the action he had done seventeen or so years ago. Hal nestled safely in the elf's arms as Legolas carried him through the shadowed corridors of Minas Tirith. He laid Hal in his bed, in the room that had once belonged to Aragorn. Legolas smiled gently down at the young prince and tucked the blankets tightly around him before exiting the room and returning to being locked up in his tower. It would not be till sometime later that Hal ever encountered the angel again.