A.n. Hi guys. Boy was I surprised when I got up this morning to 25 emails from fanfiction. I just want to thank those 3 reviewers, 12 followers and 10 favourites. Thanks also to the other followers and favourites who have joined the count whilst I've been typing up this chapter. I've never had that kind of response in one night before and think its really sweet. This chapter is for all of you and will be the last one I post before returning to school tomorrow. So here it is the next chapter of the prince of the hills.
Chapter 2 ~ the life of an immortal prince is a tough one (but two indebted elves certainly helps)
day 31, rhȋw ~ iron hills
Eleven years later found a twelve year old child looking out of a tower window, watching snow flakes dance with each other as they drifted to the ground eight stories below.
The height didn't bother him, it never had. It was strange but he had this strange feeling that if he were to jump through the window he would survive. He didn't feel like trying though.
Rainion was his name. Or at least, that was what his father had named him. He knew he had been adopted, just as he knew the story of how he had been found, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He was unaware that back in his old world he would have been counted as a child prodigy, already at a level in his studies most people would have to study for a decade to get to. The king had caught onto his sons talent and took every chance to exploit it.
He taught his son every language he knew and encouraged him to use the library to learn others. A year that was all it took for the young genius to learn Sindarian, Quenya, dwarfish, mannish and westron. Nendaer had thought his son had learnt every language on middle earth, so unsurprisingly was rather shocked when he found his son in deep conversation with a grass snake, in a language that sounded remarkably similar to that of the nazgul.
Once he had languages down, Rainion moved onto to chess and music. Wondering how he could encourage this (as neither was a subject he was particularly good at) he had ordered a goldsmith to forge a chess board from gold, the pieces that went with it were as detailed as they could get, carved from mithril and obsidian. A carpenter was enlisted to carve a harp and lyre from elm wood, which the gold smith later bejewelled with emeralds and sapphires.
Both of these craftsmen were new members of the village which had slowly filled back up with villagers after the adoption of the young prince. The houses, which had been slowly falling to ruin, covered with a blanket of cobwebs and weeds, were being steadily repaired. They weren't the only things getting repaired.
The stables now stood proud, roof repaired and the rotting wood replaced. Fresh straw was lain out in the stalls and new hay and water were placed in the appropriate spots. The horse who had run free for all these years were caught, retrained and led back to their appropriate stalls.
Back in the castle the pillars in the throne room had been restored to their former glory. Cracks that had once made the floor treacherous had been plastered up so well that it was impossible to tell that they had ever been there at all. The cobwebs that had hung in every crevice like thick curtains had been removed and the arachnids had disappeared with them.
The grounds that had been overrun by weeds, were now clear, the withered flowers had been replaced by fresh bulbs, which the gardeners had high hopes for come spring. What was the most impressive however was the young blossom tree growing from the plot of soil in the middle of the cobbled courtyard. It had yet to show any blossoms but it leaves had been a vivid green for the past two laer's. Both servants and royalty were waiting with baited breath for next ethuil, when it was predicted the tree would finally bloom.
Everyone had gotten a much needed jump start the night of the storm and the valley, once desolate and sad, now was an excited hive of activity. Even those living outside of the iron hills knew something had changed even if they didn't know what.
Rhȋw was in full blast by now. Everything was covered in a crispy blanket of white, the gurgling stream that came down from the mountains and pooled out into a small creak in one of the northern gardens had frozen over, even the trees bowed low from the weight of the powder piled high on their limbs. Rainion was alone most of the time. His father had travelled down to rohan for some sort of political meeting before the snow had set in. Needless to say, the snow had delayed his return. The ice hidden beneath its cold layers, made the mountain passes treacherous, making any travel to and from the valley dangerous and near impossible.
Fed up of the constant fussing of the castle servants he bayed them find something more productive to do with their time, letting his attention turn to the beauty of the snow against a starless night. Often he would spend winter nights like these practising his latest instrument, the violin, or capturing the picturesque view outside of the window in a painting (yet another of his countless talents), but neither of these could gain his interest tonight so he settled for watching the world pass by outside of the warm confines of the tower room.
He didn't know how long he had sat there, maybe it had been hours or just minutes, just sitting there, watching, but all of a sudden an urge to look down at the white ground miles below started to twitch in the back of his mind. It was subtle at first. Just a dull feeling. Then it slowly started to grow in strength until he was practically forced to follow his instincts. Later he would be glad he did.
It took Rainion a few minutes to realize what he was looking at. They were nearly completely buried in the snow but they were there. Curled up in the snow, their long hair spread out around their heads like halos, were to humanoid figures. After that everything seemed to speed up. He blinked, only to find himself halfway down the stairs and still moving, acting almost completely on instinct. Before he knew it, the servants were laying the figures by the fire in his tower room, having been brought running by his shouted orders. You didn't have to be a genius to know that time was of the essence when it came to saving someone who had fainted in the snow. Rainion was only glad that he had looked down when he did, otherwise they could have found corpses when the snow finally thawed.
Whilst he waited for his guests to regain consciousness, Rainion took the time to inspect the castle's mysterious visitors. Snow melted on long eyelashes and fine eyebrows as full lips slowly changed from a pale blue to a lush red. Pointed ears peaked out through matted long hair. They were obviously elves. The elf closest to the fire was the polar opposite to his friend in the regards of looks. Whilst both sported high cheek bones, pale skin and long hair the similarities stopped their. Golden locks loose but for a single plait starting from the top of his head and reaching down past his shoulders, contrasted with his companions dark brown waves pulled back into a tight ponytail. The eye of the pale haired elf were at a more obvious slant than the eyes of the dark haired elves and by the looks of it he was also taller although it was hard tell as they had yet to uncurl themselves from the positions they had taken when they had fainted outside.
The brunette was the first to awaken, brown eyes blinking at the fire for a few seconds before turning to survey the room.
It was on of the largest rooms in the tower. The fire crackled merrily behind a golden guard. A rug covered in green and red patterns covered the floor, disappearing beneath chairs and a table, reappearing again once it reach the other end. Tapestry's depicting fantasy animals such as unicorns and pegasi adorned the walls hiding whatever wallpaper was underneath. Weapons and instruments were placed on various shelves, leaving little room for the many books Rainion owned, many of which sat in a pile on the small wooden desk beneath the window.
Muddy orbs turned to stare into emerald green. Rainion watched silently as the dark haired elf looked him up and down. He knew what the elf saw, what he would think however would be an entirely different story. Long ebony hair fell down to his thighs, flowing down his back like a river reflecting a starless night. The silky strands contrasted with his alabaster skin tone making it seem almost white in comparison. Pale lips were an emotionless line beneath a nose that was in just the right proportions to give his elegant face a more mature and regal look. A three layer jabot, fastened with a ruby brooch, sat around his neck. A black layered frock coat with green trim, left unbuttoned, went nicely with the rich red, high collared vest underneath. His hands were clad in white velvet gloves. Tailored black trousers vanished beneath knee high brown leather boots making it so that only his face was and hair was visible.
"Where am I?" Rainion looked up from straightening his coat which he had been doing whilst waiting for his guest to finish his observations. Giving the elf his full attention he cut straight to the chase.
"The main room of my living quarters in the castle of the iron hills."
"I see. And you are?" his guest asked shortly.
"Prince Rainion. The crown prince to this kingdom."
They sat there in silence for a few seconds whilst the elf sorted out this new information. He opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by the moans of his companion as he sluggishly returned to the world of the conscious. Silver eyes unknowingly followed the same path as brown eventually stopping when they met emerald.
Introducing himself once more for the sake of the second elf, Rainion decided to finally try and get some answers to some of his own questions.
"Might I have the pleasure of asking with whom I have the pleasure of speaking?" The elves exchanged glances before nodding.
"My name is Lithuinir." The brunette introduced himself first, giving a small bow of his head.
"And mine, is Írdir." The blonde followed shortly after, finishing with the same small bow of his head as Lithuinir. Both of these elves obviously knew he was in a higher position than them and respected him for it but weren't about to get down on their knees and fulfil his every wish.
Rainion found he liked that. For as long as he could remember his father and the servants had given him everything he could ever wish for. It didn't matter what it was, as long as he wanted it, it was his. If he had been anyone else he would have been quite spoilt by now. But these elves, they didn't care that he was royalty, they would respect him but that was as far as they would go.
"How did you end up in the iron hills in weather like this? My own father has been kept in rohan what would make you risk travelling in such weather?" finally deciding to stop beating around the bush he took the topic right to the source. Once more the elves exchanged glances before offering up an answer.
"We heard rumours that the kingdom settled in the iron valley was being restored and repopulated and came to offer assistance. The journey was longer than expected and by the time we got here, the snow had picked up. We lost consciousness when the snow finally got to the point where we could barely see each other." It was Írdir who finally answered, distractedly running his fingers through his hair in a pointless attempt to rid it of the tangles currently twisting around each other like a mess of rope.
The conversation was replaced with an abrupt awkward silence after that. Anything that would have made for great discussions normally seemed inappropriate for the circumstances or to informal to talk about with someone you barely knew.
Tired of the silence that now filled the room, Rainion stood, brushing off invisible dirt from his lap, before clearing his throat.
"If your well enough to stand, allow me to show you to the guests quarter." he stated politely once he had gained their attention. Without another word he turned on his heel, exiting through the wooden door and setting a quick pace down the spiralling stone stairs behind it. The echo of footsteps behind him let him know that they had followed, but he didn't slow.
Leading the elves through twisting corridors, through gilded doors and up red carpet steps. Eventually they reached the north west tower. furthest away from the rooms of the royal family in the south towers, it had been made into the guest suite, with the intention, that should a guest have harmful intentions they would have a long maze like walk between them and the royals. It would be impossible for anyone to learn the quickest way between the towers without either living at the castle for an extended period of time or repetitive visits. Neither of these conditions would apply to anyone the crown didn't trust.
Hearing the slight panting of the elves, who were already exhausted before the long fast paced walk, he took pity on them, leading them into the rooms closest to the tower entrance.
Just because they were guest rooms didn't mean that they were any less decorated. Paintings of dragons and mountains with golden frames hung on white washed walls. A door opposite the entrance led to an on-suite bathroom. A blue fluffy carpet covered the plain hard wood floor, and went nicely with the red armchairs and marble fireplace. A four poster bed was positioned in one corner so that its white drapes acted like curtains for the window at its side.
Nodding good night to the elves, Rainion left them to bathe and retire to their rooms, after showing them were they could find a fresh change of clothes and towels.
day 16, laer ~ iron hills
An eighteen year old laughed alongside his companions as their mounts raced over soil and stone, their long hair being snatched by the wind, and trailing behind them like long banners. They were a sight to see.
Two elves, a blond and a brunette, rode fine stallions, fast and agile, at the shoulder of a young man. The young man seemed to glow in a similar fashion to the elves in his company. The glow of immortality. But there was something different to his glow, it was purer, brighter. As though the sun were directly behind him and yet above him as well.
His mount was as beautiful as his rider. A stag, his antlers in their twelfth growth and his coat a rare milky white, easily kept at the head of the group, seemingly holding back his full speed in consideration for the horses racing behind him who were both thoroughly coated in a fine sheen of sweat.
They were the hunt. A prince, soon to be king, and his two 'bodyguards' although they were more like close friends. All three were clad in expensive looking clothes, from underneath which the glint of mithril armour could be glimpsed. Elm wood bows hung on their backs next to full quivers of arrows. Swords, or a rapier in the young man's case, hung from their belt, next to a pair of finely forged hunting knives.
Rainion, for he was of course the prince in question, had grown a lot in the past six years. Easily as tall as the elves, he stood with a straight back and proud gleam in his eyes. A golden circlet was nestled on his ebony locks, plaits starting at the sides were pulled back where they joined a larger central plait. The rest of his hair hung loose tumbling down in cascades past his shoulders. His clothing was similar to the clothes he wore when he was twelve, with only one difference that was really noticeable, a white shirt now resided underneath the vest, long sleeves coved his long pale arms with pleated layers, that feathered out over his hands.
The two elves were the same elves he had saved all those years ago. Lithuinir and Írdir. They had not been lying when they said they had come to the valley to offer assistance. Although the assistance they gave was obviously different from what they had been intending. In order to repay the life debt they owed him, and with permission from his father, took up places as the bodyguards of the crown prince. Over the years they had grown closer, and were now virtually inseparable, the stubborn elves refusing to let their charge go anywhere in public without at least one of them tagging along.
When Rainion had learnt everything there was to learn of the finer hobbies for a prince, such as crafts and music, he had turned his attention to hunting and fighting. Both elves had turned out to be respectable tutors, teaching them every trick of combat and tracking. They taught him the importance of packing lightly and treading with light steps, how to pull back the string of a bow for optimum power and accuracy when loosing arrow. He had taken everything in stride, easily winning his first encounter with a pack of orcs.
The hunts for orcs were more often now and would last for months on end. Rainion found himself feeling useless if he stayed in the castle to long. His father was restricted to bed rest now, his age having finally caught up with him. Everyone knew he would die soon, their was nothing anyone could do about it. Not even the best elvish healing could stop death once it was someone's time.
Their return to their home was usually announced with cheers, music and crowds. The sound of a kingdom celebrating the return of its prince after months of travelling. Today was different. It was obvious the second they rode through the gates, the crowd who usually awaited them were nowhere in sight, and the few villagers in sight wore black. Someone had died.