Chapter 2 submitted 10-16-12.
Here's chapter 2.
Summary: The year is 2325 of the Second Age. Fifteen years after the events of The Red Hunters, all is going fairly well in the Greenwood, but the Shadow continues to grow. Just when things begin to look up for Legolas, tragedy strikes. Battling against the madness that threatens to overtake him, nothing will ever be the same for the Crown Prince. PG 13 for language, violence, and romance.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, the Silmarillion, or any related characters or works. They belong to Mister J.R.R. Tolkien.
THE GOLDEN WARRIOR.
Book Four in the IAUR MIN Series.
By GundamWingFanatic90/Portrait of a Scribe.
CHAPTER 2.
At 102 sun years old, Legolas Thranduilion, Crown Prince of Greenwood, was supposed to be mature and disciplined enough to sit through the settling of trading matters calmly. This meant no fidgeting, no dozing, and no straying of attention. He was currently succeeding marvelously in the first two, but his mind was anywhere but on the voice of the Lothlórien representative who was speaking.
Four days ago he had awoken abruptly from a doze, his heart pounding, covered in sweat, chest heaving. He could not recall what had startled him so, but it nevertheless lingered in his mind. A bad feeling had made itself a home in Legolas' immortal heart since that instant. This foreboding was what was now occupying his thoughts.
"Prince Legolas?" asked a baritone voice. Legolas blinked, focusing back in on the fair-haired elf before him. "Are you well?"
Legolas smiled distractedly. "Aye, I am fine. Just some solemn notions that are now gone." The elf smiled a half-grin, a corner of his mouth lifting to reveal pearly white teeth.
"I am nearly done, anyway," he said. Legolas nodded in reply, pointedly ignoring his father's small, knowing grin. The delegate continued to exchange words with Thranduil for a short number of minutes. Then Thranduil dismissed the court, and he and Legolas left the throne room.
Once they were alone in the hallway, the king turned to his son, gazing sharply into the younger elf's silver eyes.
"What has got you so distracted, Legolas?" Thranduil asked. Obviously he was not in the mood to skirt the issue. Legolas grimaced before answering, eyes downcast.
"Four days ago I was woken from my sleep by a strong sense that something was wrong," he replied briefly. "I know not what it stems from, but it has not left, and it has not lessened in its strength." He sighed, pressing two fingers to his temple and massaging it.
"I've not properly slept since then, and when I do, my dreams are of darkness, and blood, and sicknesses caused by poison," he continued. Legolas then fell silent, perturbed, and Thranduil watched him, contemplating.
"There is no explanation for it that I can find," the prince said after a spell. Thranduil sighed with a small, sympathetic smile, and put a hand on his son's shoulder. Their eyes met.
"Sometimes there is no explanation," he said. "But mayhap you should speak with your mother of it. Go on. I shall distract your grandfather long enough for you to seek some theories." Thranduil grinned suddenly. "You know how he loves to see your progress as a warrior and prince. I suggest you hurry, ion-nin."
Legolas managed to crack a small smile at his father's attempt to cheer him up, and pulled away to clasp Thranduil's forearm.
"Hannon le, adar," the prince murmured. Then he was gone.
Thranduil sighed after Legolas turned the corner, and ran a hand through his golden bangs.
"His heart grows more troubled by the day," said a deep voice from behind him. Thranduil nodded before turning to face the Lothlórien delegate, whose emerald eyes glittered in the flickering candlelight.
"Aye, indeed he does," the king agreed. "And day by day he grows more solemn. Have you any advice, adar?" Oropher's lips quirked in a half-smile.
"Unfortunately, I do not," he admitted. "Neither you nor your sister ever had visions such as your son describes, and your mother certainly never lost sleep over much of anything." Laughing, Oropher unceremoniously flung an arm across Thranduil's shoulders.
"But enough of that!" he exclaimed. "This is your lunchtime! Shall we go and sample some of your famed Dorwinion over some food?" Now Thranduil laughed, allowing his father to steer him toward the cellars.
"Aye, indeed!"
Legolas had found his mother in the gardens, where she often lingered at this time of day. She was sitting on a bench, a thin board upon her lap, sketching an old pine tree across the path. As Legolas approached, Andiach grinned and put her stick of charcoal aside, holding her drawing up triumphantly. Then she looked over at him as she sensed his presence.
"Legolas!" she exclaimed, eyes alight. He smiled at her enthusiasm.
"Naneth," he greeted sedately. Andiach calmed herself when she felt her son's solemn mood, and laid her sketch aside, patting the spot next to her. He sat wordlessly.
"What do you wish to speak to me about?" Andiach asked, watching his face lightheartedly. He smiled a bit more, but then he sobered as he haltingly began to tell her what he had told his father. Andiach listened without comment until Legolas fell silent once more, and then she waited a moment before speaking.
"You say that you've been haunted by a feeling of dread and that your dreams are of an evil ilk," she said. He nodded. "It could be several things, ion-nin. It could merely be the anxieties of a warrior prince surfacing, or it could be your developing abilities. It could be that someone you care deeply for is, or was, in danger, and that you have sensed it, causing you to have these dreams." She paused, silver eyes searching Legolas' face intently.
"This is the first time such things have happened, am I correct?" He hesitated, but that was enough of an answer for Andiach's sharp mind.
"When has this occurred before?" she inquired. Legolas winced.
"I have dreams occasionally," he hedged. "Dreams of lands that I have never been to, people I have never met. Some of the dreams are good, and some are frighteningly evil." Andiach's mood dropped with every word until she was staring with open concern into Legolas' face.
"What do you see in these dreams?" He looked at her in confusion.
"I beg your pardon?" Andiach stared sternly at him.
"Tell me exactly what you see in these dreams," she replied. "Describe these people and places to me." Legolas hesitated before lowering his gaze to the ground.
"I see much of Glorfindel in the good dreams," he quietly answered at length. "And I see much of a grown elf in the likeness of my brother. There is also a dark-haired human man, and a silver-haired elleth, and a small boy-child, and a raven-haired ellon dressed in the robes of royalty. In these dreams, I see a white city of wealth that does not exist in these lands. It is surrounded by the high walls of a mountain, and there is a river that flows through three carved tunnels in the cliff walls."
He paused, eyes darkening to sapphire as black memories sifted through his thoughts. Andiach's suspicion and alarm mounted as he continued, "In the bad dreams, I see the city burning. I see orcs and other creatures of darkness slaughtering elves. I see the elf who bears the face of my brother dying as he slays a great creature of ash and flame. There is a secret path that the silver-haired elleth leads many people on, and I see Glorfindel battling a creature of flame like the other elf was, and then I see them fall into a black chasm. I see myself fighting a sea of orcs. There is a pain in my throat and head, and then everything fades to a warm blackness before I awake in a cold sweat." Legolas knew that he was not telling the whole truth. However, he did not want his mother to know how he dreamt that he had fought with arrows through his neck and thigh for an hour longer than he had said before taking two more to his chest and a slash to his head. No, he could not tell Andiach about that.
Now Legolas looked to Andiach, eyes questioning.
"What think you of these visions?" he asked. He already knew the answer, had known it for a long time, but he wished to see what his mother thought. Andiach was silent, her gaze fixed upon the ground before them, face pale and eyes sad.
"I…" she began slowly, but she trailed off. After a moment, she opened her mouth to start again, but this time she was interrupted. A messenger had run into the yard. His clear, blue eyes searched about before alighting upon the royal pair. Then he ran over to them and bowed.
"Bereth Andiach, Ernil Legolas," the messenger greeted. Then he looked at Legolas. "Ernil-nin, you are wanted in the throne room. Aran Thranduil says that it is a matter of great importance." Legolas nodded, getting to his feet.
"Hannon le," he said. "You've delivered your message well." He turned to his mother, bowing. "I apologize, naneth, but I am called away. Shall I see you at the evening meal?"
Andiach smiled tightly.
"Aye, I shall see you then," she replied. Legolas nodded, and then turned and exited the gardens, the messenger following behind him.
Legolas took his place at his father's left hand in silence, nodding respectfully to Thranduil as he went. As Thranduil motioned for the elf who wished an audience to be allowed in, Legolas stood stock-still. His only visible reaction was a stiffening of his back as the elves were ushered in.
The two were grimy and bloodstained, but the Crown Prince of Greenwood immediately recognized them as Abriel and her second-in-command, Nimellon. They briskly made their way to the throne, and then kneeled before the dais upon which Thranduil sat and Legolas stood.
"State your names, ranks, and business," Thranduil commanded, as per custom. Abriel and Nimellon stood up and bowed with some difficulty before straightening once again.
"Hîr-nin, I am Abriel Sirien, captain of the thirteenth patrol," Abriel stated.
"And I am Nimellon Aduialion, her second-in-command," Nimellon continued.
Abriel went on, "We bring you grave news from the southern borders."
The king's brow creased faintly, and he and Legolas exchanged a glance before Thranduil motioned for Abriel to continue.
"Go on," he ordered. The elleth nodded briskly, winced a little, and then kept speaking her report.
"Four days ago, my patrol and I were ambushed along the southern patrol route we were assigned to. We disposed of the orcs who attacked us, but three of our number were gravely wounded in the process." She paused.
"My lords," Nimellon interjected slowly, his bass voice a low rumble in the room. "We think, judging by the increased number of orcs along our southern borders, that an evil entity may be centralizing there. We are not, as you know, the only patrol to have been attacked in recent times."
Thranduil nodded thoughtfully, but guilt was gnawing at Legolas' heart. He had been the one to organize the recent southern patrols. But Abriel was speaking again, and Legolas wrenched himself back to the present.
"The orcs we fought used a new kind of poison on their weapons," she said. She blinked rapidly as blood dripped into her left eye from a gash across her forehead. "Eldawen, our healer, managed to retrieve a sample from one of the weapons for analysis."
Abriel paused again, long enough to reach up and use her dirty sleeve to swipe some of the blood off of her face. It did little more than smear it across her skin. "My lords, the orcs seem to be organizing, and they seem to be getting more aggressive and crafty."
Again, Thranduil nodded, his face grave.
"These are ill tidings, indeed," he admitted. "But I thank you for bringing them to me. Now go, and tend your wounds." They did as they were told. Legolas felt his stomach lurch as Abriel stumbled, but she righted herself with Nimellon's aid. The pair bowed, Abriel wincing as she did so, and then they slowly left the hall. As the great doors closed behind them, Legolas felt his heart drop like a stone into his stomach, the guilt paining him.
"…golas… Legolas!" The Crown Prince blinked, coming out of his reverie. He turned to Thranduil from where he had been staring after Abriel.
"Yes, Aran-nin?" Legolas inquired. Thranduil gazed at him in open concern.
"I was going to tell you something, but you were not paying attention," the king replied. He peered into his son's troubled sapphire eyes. "Are you alright, ion-nin?" Legolas forced a half-smile to appear on his face.
"I am fine, adar," he replied. "However, I do not think that I will be hungry for supper this night. Will you please pass my apologies along to my mother?" Thranduil searched Legolas' eyes for a second longer before nodding.
"Aye, I will," he replied. Legolas bowed.
"Hannon le," he whispered.
Two turns of the hour found the Crown Prince sitting on the bank of a secluded creek in the forest. He stared darkly into the burbling water, eyes sapphire.
He could have done something to prevent the ambush that had hit Abriel's patrol. He should have assigned them to the eastern borders instead of the southern. Why had he not known this was to happen?
Absently, Legolas raised a hand toward the creek. A sphere of water rose into the air and floated over to rest, swirling, in his palm. His thoughts were swirling in much the same way.
Suddenly Abriel's face floated to the forefront of his thoughts. Guilt tinged his emotions more than they previously had, but his heart fluttered slightly. The sensation surprised him, but he soon ignored it.
Abriel, he thought slowly. She's been my best friend since we first met when we were only five sun years old. Why does my heart soar when I think of her? He paused, eyes flickering to a light sky-blue color as he gazed at the water in his hand.
Legolas' thoughts had left him absent-minded, and in his distraction, he had unwittingly formed the water into a likeness of his best friend, who was also the subject of his thoughts. The water-Abriel's eyes were dancing with mirth and, to Legolas' amazement, what seemed to be love and painful affection. The smile was the gentle curve of her bow-shaped lips, and the head was cocked studiously to the side.
Frankly, the prince was surprised that his subconscious had dredged up this image from his memories. He was also surprised that he saw his best friend as being that beautiful.
Could it be…? he asked himself silently. With a jolt, he thought, Am I in love with her?
He paused again. It made some sense, and certainly explained why he could never keep his thoughts far from her during peacetime. It also told him why he had been dreaming the things he had.
I love her, he thought. I love her. A burden seemed to lift from his heart. A small smile spread across his face.
"I love her." And the watery likeness gently splashed back into the creek.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, the Silmarillion, or the Hobbit.
Chapter 3 will be posted 10-22-12.
And here's chapter 2. Is anybody even reading this fic, still?
Anyway, in case you haven't read the other fics, the whole "magic water" thing is something I established in book 2, The Red Hunters. Basically, Legolas can cast magic in a different way than other elves because he is half-Wetharin (my own creations). The easiest way to explain this is that he has some of the magical capabilities of the Elves from Christopher Paolini's Eragon series (Inheritance Cycle), but they are completely different from them, at the same time.
If anybody wants to hear about the Wethrim, either tell me in a review or in a PM, and I'll post it at the end of the next chapter.
For anybody who is interested in what I've been up to for the past few years, check out my other profile here:
FFN Author penname: "Portrait of a Scribe"
and DeviantART penname: "ElvenWhiteMage"
Don't worry, everything will make sense by the end of this fic, I swear.
-GundamWingFanatic90, a.k.a. Portrait of a Scribe