A couple years ago, a friend of mine got me into fan fiction (I had no idea it even existed), and I've just never looked back. I'm awfully late to the LOTR/Hobbit game, so I have no idea if anyone's left in the fandom who will actually read this, but I'm going to write it anyway! This is largely meant to be an easy read, a fairly light-hearted fic full of heartache and drama and humor and angst and palace intrigue (my favorite thing ever), but there may be some more serious events down the line when the kid is all grown up. I mean—of course, there has to be more serious themes down the line, right? Cheers!
CHAPTER ONE
A Child in Rivendell
A red sun rose on the horizon.
Pink and orange swathed beyond the treetops overhead, the sound of horse hooves breaking the silence. The forest was as green and lovely as it always was, but for a few golden leaves floating to the ground—the first sign of autumn.
Lovely, and yet—something was amiss.
The young prince of Mirkwood rode alongside an emissary of his father, his attention drawn to the horizon continuously. A strange weight wrapped tighter around his heart as they approached Rivendell, the golden home of their mountain kin. "Another red sun…" Legolas murmured above the trotting of their horses. His hands loosened on Malkrith's reigns as his thoughts trailed to the rising sun, the morning light and breeze doing little to abate the whispers of danger.
"Your highness?" his emissary—Galion—said as he strode up beside him on his horse.
"Something is wrong in Imladris," Legolas said, looking at the young elf. "We must quicken our pace. Lord Elrond may need our assistance."
The emissary stared at him a moment—a young elf, unversed in the ways of the world—then glanced nervously around the shadows of the forest, as though they could give some answer to the question in his eyes. "My prince, what do you mean? What should we expect to find?"
"That remains to be seen." Legolas turned to his horse. "Noro lim, Malkrith."
Malkrith kicked up his legs and took off down the path, carrying Legolas on his back. Galion followed behind him, the two of them riding fast. The horses of Mirkwood would not tire by the time they arrived, as Rivendell was not far—mere miles stood between them and Imladris, the home of the great elf lord.
They passed through the gates mere hours later, finding it was empty. The guards had gone, and one by one, Legolas and Galion slowed at its sheer emptiness.
It was this, Legolas realized, that he sensed from the forest—the austere and uncharacteristic emptiness of Rivendell.
But why? What had happened?
"Where is everyone?" Galion muttered under his breath beside him.
"We will find out shortly," Legolas answered, dismounting his horse. They quickly tied them off at the stables and proceeded up the steps leading further into Imladris. Waterfalls streamed by them as they wandered aimlessly around the paths for the better part of half an hour, searching for signs of any other elves in the area. Legolas peered across the ivory courtyards and through the glassless windows, searching for someone—anyone—to tell him what had happened here. At this proximity, he knew now that there were others in Rivendell—but where were they?
Where was…anyone?
They ascended further into the house of Elrond, traversing its golden halls.
"It's as if the whole of Rivendell has emptied," Galion muttered beside him.
The princeling opened his mouth to agree, but then a shadow passed just in the corner of his eye."There—" Legolas turned and stalked in the direction of the movement, walking briskly. Around the corner, he saw that it was a servant hurrying along the path.
"Gi suillon!" Legolas called after her, offering a greeting.
The servant halted in surprise, whirling in the direction of the voice. Her eyes widened with recognition, and she immediately turned to face them completely, bowing her head. Legolas noted the cloths she held in her hands—there was also the slightest stain of red on the edge of her sleeve. "Gi nathlam hi," the servant returned the greeting. "Your highness—we were not expecting you until the evening."
"Where is everyone?" Legolas asked.
She gave him a worried look. "Many have yet to return to Rivendell, my lord," the servant answered. "Lord Elrond was called away urgently to Lothlorien. He will not return for several days."
Legolas furrowed a brow. "Lothlorien?" He exchanged a worried glance with Galion—to have been called away in earnest, something must have happened. "Why was he summoned so urgently?"
"Word reached us late of orcs amassing at our borders. There were no mortal survivors in one of the villages that were attacked—save for one child, who is in the healing house," the servant said. "There is now movement near Isengard, and so Lord Elrond was summoned to Lothlorien."
Even in the deep expanses of Mirkwood, word had also reached King Thranduil of many such attacks upon human villages. Rumor spread of a growing shadow in the east, but no more information or incident had come to raise ulterior suspicions.
"Well, I am certain they would not have called Lord Elrond away if they was no real need for it," Legolas said. "Perhaps I should ride out to Lothlorien myself. They may require aid from Mirkwood." The princeling had come as a guest of Elrond, to honor the beginnings of autumn in the valley, but his father surely will have wanted to hear of this upon his return—and however much information he could gather on these attacks.
The servant shook her head. "Lord Elrond left word with us before he left—the road is long, and he asked all arrivals to remain in Rivendell until he returns. He will bring news then, for he does not wish to be responsible for any harm that may befall those who travel after him—if they require help, they will send for it."
The young prince frowned, but acquiesced. With a cursory glance at the ivory houses and roads surrounding them, he really had no real reservations about spending time here, anyway. "Very well, then."
"I will show you both to your quarters, if you'll follow me."
"Of course."
The guest wing of Elrond's house was much the same as it always was. The prince was shown to the same room he always stayed in, its elegant white drapes casting bright light into the room as the sun rose higher in the sky. Leaving his bow and quiver in the corner where it always lay, Legolas drew a book from one of the shelves and went out to the divan on the balcony, spending the next several hours as he preferred: in the quiet company of waterfalls.
In the days that followed, other emissaries had also convened in Rivendell, all guests of the house of Elrond. By the fourth day, little had been seen or spoken of Elrond or his daughter. Legolas strode through the hall in the company of Glorfindel, who had returned ahead of Elrond, and listened to his recounting of the burning of the town.
"It isn't altogether strange for orcs to attack the borders of elven lands, but to be so persistent—could they be organizing on another's account?" Legolas asked as they strode down an ivory corridor.
"It is difficult to say," Glorfindel said, looking equally troubled. "Such villains tend to lurk deep within the shadows, concealed from us. If there is such an organizer, I imagine there are few who would guess at their nature without more information."
Legolas paused to consider that. "When do you suppose Lord Elrond will return?"
"On the 'morrow," Glorfindel answered. "I should expect he will return by then."
Legolas was about to speak when two figures appeared at the end of the corridor. One he recognized with her long dark hair and royal robes, but the other was unfamiliar—and considerably smaller.
"Come—this way, little one," Lady Arwen ushered the small child along the path, stopping when she saw the two lords. Leaves blew by Legolas and Glorfindel as they came to a stop in the middle of the corridor, sunlight casting shadows through the arches between them.
"Lady Arwen," Legolas said, bowing his head in time with Glorfindel. "I am glad to see you in good health." In truth, the pallor of her skin was lighter than normal, the rosiness gone out of her cheeks—but she remained the vision of health, as far as the eldar went.
"Thank you," Arwen said. "Forgive me for my absence, my lords—I trust you have been made to feel welcome?"
"Indeed, there is nothing to apologize for," Legolas said, casting a glance down at the child, who was hiding behind Arwen's skirt, barely daring to peek out. Her hair was the hue of deep honey, and her little hand was cut up and bruised.
Sad—on more than one account.
"I only say so on behalf of my father, we do not often invite visitors to leave them alone here for days."
"Truly, there is nothing to forgive, my lady," he answered, bowing his head again.
Arwen looked distressed as she glanced down at the child. "Would you tell us your name, little one?" She stepped slightly to the side. "Come now, look and see—these lords are most kind."
For a moment, Legolas saw the full extent of the child's injuries. Namely, the fading cuts, burns, and bruises along her face, neck, and arms, which were clearly a far cry better than they must have been days ago—truly horrific. The child looked from Arwen to Glorfindel, then finally at Legolas. Her injured eye was still terribly swollen, a deep purple and yellow bruise forming beneath her socket. Pity weighed his heart down deep in his chest, surfacing in his expression. He offered a weak smile but said nothing.
The child's lower lip trembled, her knuckles whitening as she gripped Arwen's dress fearfully. Tears filled her eyes as she averted her gaze from him, then wept and lifted two little hands to Arwen. It was then that Legolas realized the striking lightness of her grey eyes—and that she was missing several teeth.
As though they'd been knocked out.
Again, his heart wrenched for what the child must have endured.
"There, now," Arwen all but whispered as she lifted the little girl up, letting her lock her arms around her neck. Swaying back and forth, she lulled her from her fit of crying. Her face was plastered against Arwen's neck as the wailing slowly diminished, barely daring to turn once more and look at Legolas and Glorfindel.
"Why does she cry so?" Legolas said softly, his voice filled with pity.
"She cries at unfamiliar faces," Arwen explained. "It has gotten worse since she has left the healing house—but she must not remain where others are sick." She looked at the child. "There is nothing to fear from Prince Legolas and Lord Glorfindel—you see? The lords are most kind."
Legolas grinned as the child's crying eased just a bit—perhaps at Arwen's soothing voice. He wasn't altogether sure that she was old enough to understand speech. "She has strange coloring," he said. "For a human."
"Their children sometimes bear odd coloring," Glorfindel was the one to answer. "It will change with age." He looked toward the little girl. "But will she?"
Arwen looked the slightest bit defensive. "How do you mean?"
"It would be good to have an account of exactly what happened—if she is old enough to speak, that is."
"She is old enough," Arwen said, still rocking the child in her arms. "It is her mind that is damaged, and that will take time to fix." She leaned back to look the little girl in the eyes. "But we will come to know you in time—won't we, little one?"
The way she smiled was endearing, and Legolas realized just how much time Arwen must have spent in the child's company at the healing house. Indeed, she must have already grown attached in the mere days he had spent in Rivendell.
The child looked at him once more and continued to sniffle. When he smiled again, she turned and buried her face in Arwen's neck, gripping her tightly. At least she wasn't crying.
Arwen sighed deeply. "Yes, this may take some time…" A pause of silence. "How long will you be staying with us, my Lord Legolas?"
"I'm not sure yet," the princeling said. "But I believe my father would want an account sooner, rather than later, of all that has happened along the border."
"I understand," Arwen said. "If I do not see you before then, I wish you the safest of journeys home."
"Thank you, My Lady," Legolas said. "The best of luck to you, as well. And to your little one."
Thank you for reading! If you're so inclined, I would love to hear from you-sound off, LOTR gang! :)