By: LadyoftheRings
Rating: PG-13 for violence. May go up to R in one chapter.
Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com
Spoilers: If you haven't read the Two Towers or the Return of the King.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Middle-Earth or J.R.R. Tolkien's world or characters. Everything recognizable J.R.R. Tolkien's, all else is mine. I am receiving no money for this, and this story was written purely for enjoyment.
Summary: Few know that Legolas Greenleaf was born a twin, and that his twin Laurëmîr was enamored of the human race. But when tragedy befalls him, can Laurëmîr prevent him from killing the one she loves?
Series: None.
Other disclaimers:
Any spelling, date, place or character errors
are the fault
of the author only and are totally by
accident. I am not an
expert on Middle Earth and do not claim to
be. Please
forgive any omissions or errors you might find.
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The Golden Jewel
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*~*Chapter One*~*
"Come, Master Elf," Gimli growled over his pipe, eyes watering in the smoke slightly. "All of us have told a tale but you. I think it high time you return the favor."
It was the evening after Arwen and Aragorn's marriage. All the Company was gathered in Minas Tirith for an evening of story-telling; Arwen, her brothers and her father were also present.
"Yes, Legolas," Arwen said in her lyrical voice. "Come, tell us a tale from beyond the Misty Mountains!"
Legolas, like the other elves, had been sitting upwind of the smoke from Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli's pipes. The hobbits were all too tired to smoke, curled on the couches nearest to the fire and digesting their latest feast. Legolas sat on the window sill, one leg dangling outside the room. His arms were wrapped around his other knee, resting his head on his leg as he watched the stars and breathed in the cool, fresh air. He tilted his head slightly and regarded Gimli with an amused smile. "My life was not all that interesting before this," he answered. "Nevertheless, I do have a tale to tell, though I am not the main theme. But only if you put out those pipes and their smoke will I tell."
Aragorn laughed. It was well known that Legolas disliked the smell of smoke—probably because in his homeland it usually meant forest-fires—and it amused his friends to no end that he usually sat upwind from them.
"Very well, my dear Legolas," Gandalf sighed, putting his pipe down. "This had better be a good tale indeed, though."
Legolas smiled, his gray eyes showing almost black in the firelight. He leapt lightly back into the room and settled himself on the floor. One side of his face was in shadow, the other illuminated by the few candles scattered in the room. His dark hair was held back by a silver clasp, and he was dressed all in silver and green. He looked every inch the mysterious but benevolent elf of all the old stories.
"I shall let you decide that," he said. Elrond caught the elf's gaze; he knew of the story Legolas was going to tell, and was surprised the elf, silent after so many years, choose to tell it now. Legolas nodded slightly to the elf-lord, and then turned his attention back to the room.
"Go on, Legolas," Aragorn prompted. "You have our attention now."
Legolas smiled sadly and began.
The Tale of
Legolas Greenleaf
and
Laurëmîr Goldjewel
as told by
Legolas and Laurëmîr
Few of you know that I was born a twin. My sister, Laurëmîr and I were the first-born children of my father, King Thranduil, and he loved us dearly.
I am, or so I have been told, most in looks and attitude like my mother; Laurëmîr, or Laurë as she chooses to be called, was more like to my father. Perhaps that is why they argued so much. She was quick to laugh, quicker to anger or to scold, but also quickest to forgive. I was perhaps the quieter of us two (being the youngest by two minutes), and more interested in weapons of war than my sister.
As children we were inseparable, and we shared a room and a bed for many years. Siblings in general and twins in particular form a bond together that stays all their lives. We would play together, laugh together and irked our elders together. But Laurë was, I can now see, also very protective of me. Being two minutes older can make a difference, you know. She never took me on the most dangerous of her forays, though I wanted to. She never told me how, exactly, she slipped past the magical door without being caught, nor how she slipped past our sentries unnoticed. As she grew older she went further and explored more, landing her in deeper trouble. She would come back to me and whisper tales in my ear of places we were forbidden to go; deep into Mirkwood where she spoke with Radagast, across to Laketown and once even so fair as the town of Dale. Laurë was never still, never silent. She had too much imagination to stay cooped up in a mere forest.
By the judgment of my people, we were nothing special. I was moderately handsome, and she was fairly pretty. But there was something about Laurë that made you stop and look at her again. Our father called her Ril—that is, brilliance. She fairly bubbled with life and with laughter. The gravest of my father's advisers would stop and smile as she skipped down the hall. She was an indomitable spirit, and a joyous one.
She was also perhaps the most mischievous elf-child in the history of our people. Elven-children by nature need little discipline if any as they grow. Laurëmîr was the exception. If trouble could not find her, she went searching for it. Together we wrecked havoc on our quiet palace. Once, during a feast, we switched all the wine with grape juice and the champagne with sparkling cider. Laurë's crowning victory, and one she let me in on, was when she switched the hobbit-sized statue of an elf on a horse, made from spun sugar with a duplicate made from glass. Everyone was puzzled when our father couldn't pierce it with his spoon. They found us curled on our bed, laughing so hard we cried.
For it we were kept in the palace for a month and were not allowed to stay up late or go to any of the parties. Laurë's next two ventures into the wide world, though, would be her greatest in all our childhood.
"Legolas," she whispered to me one night, her gray eyes dancing with silent laughter. "I am going to Laketown tomorrow."
"What?" I hissed. "You can not go! We are forbidden to leave the palace after the spun sugar fiasco!"
"Forbidden shmidden," she retorted. "I am going to see this mayor father keeps talking about. Maybe I can convince him to lower the prices for our wine."
"Laurë, you have gone mad! You will never make it past the gate."
"We'll see." Her eyes glimmered. "Will you come?"
I squirmed. I wanted to, but I didn't want more punishment duty. "Stay then," she said. "I think no less of you."
That did it. "I am coming!" I said, too loud.
"Hush!" she hissed even as the door opened and Mother came in.
"You two," she said with a shake of her head, sitting down on the bed and putting an affectionate hand on each of our heads. "Mischief brews in the dark hours of the night, no?" She laughed. "What plan lies behind those fiery eyes?" she asked Laurë. "What passion burns so bright as to risk our wrath to find?"
Laurë's eyes did indeed burn with inner flame, and she laughed lightly. "Why, mother, you grow mistrustful! Why should I choose to punish myself?"
Mother shook a finger at her. "Because you search for something you cannot find here. And remember, Laurë, you may fool your father with your round, wide eyes and hanging head, but you do not fool me. Young one, you have all your long life yet to live. Leave some surprises for when you are older."
"I will try, mother."
"Good." She kissed each of us. "To bed with you, younglings. You've had quite enough fun at our expense for one day."
She closed the door behind us, shutting out the noises of a feast going on.
"Laurë?"
"What?"
"Are we still going tomorrow?"
"Of course!"
"But mother said…"
"She said I did not fool her. Fine. But father is having terrible problems with the wine prices, I heard him say. I am going to help him."
I sighed. "Laurë…"
"What now?"
"Must we?"
"Yes. Calm dreams, Legolas."
"Calm dreams, Laurë."
The next morning, Laurë woke me well before dawn. "Do you still want to come?" she asked as I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
"Of course!" I snapped, shivering in the cold air.
"Here, dress warmly."
"Stop fussing."
"I'm not fussing."
"Are too!"
"Are not!"
We fell silent and listened to hear if any had heard our arguing. There was no sound, so early it was. Laurë turned to me with a satisfied smile. "Let's go."
We jumped from our window to the trees and from there to the ground. Laurë took my hand and pulled me through the dark on a well-worn path. I was afraid, for I could not see and I did not know if Laurë was getting us lost. But I trusted Laurë to get us there safely, and stayed quiet.
At last we came to a swift-moving stream. There was a boat tied to this side, and without hesitation we jumped in. We had no fear of water, learning to swim before we could walk, almost.
Together we paddled and struggled across the stream where we left the boat and ran down towards Laketown just as the sun began to lighten the sky. Laurë stopped, looking over the distance past Laketown to the Lonely Mountain.
"Someday, I will travel there and meet the great dwarf-smiths," she whispered to herself. I tugged at her hand impatiently and, giggling like little children, we ran into town.
It was no small matter getting through unseen. There were sentries everywhere, and I was used to the cover of forest. The sudden baroness of the town's streets and roadways was a shock for me. But Laurë had been here before, and had no fear of being caught.
"This is the house," she whispered, pointing to a large and well-kept two story house. The window in the second story was open. "I'll boost you up," she said, cupping her hands. I made the jump and crawled inside. She followed a second later.
I stared wide-eyed at the sleeping man. He was as tall as an elf, burley and thick and he snored. He also needed a bath.
Laurë giggled behind her hand as she walked forward to look in the man's face. "Mr. Mayor," she said in a sing-song voice. "Come out and play!"
Laurë's cockiness got the better of her. She hadn't realized that the man had been aware of our breaking and entering. She squeaked with fear as his eyes snapped open and he grabbed her.
"Run, Legolas!" she gasped.
"Two o' you!" he roared. "You li'l thieves!"
Laurë screamed. I was frozen as the man came towards me, dragging Laurë. "Run, little brother!" she yelled, struggling with all her might. But for all her cleverness she was a slight thing yet, only about the size of a small mortal nine-year-old. She struggled harder to no avail.
I made a dash for the window but was caught by my hair. I yelled as I felt it pull and tried to scramble free but I couldn't get any leverage to bite or kick.
I heard pounding on the floor below. More humans!
In desperation I ripped my head away and sprang through the window. Warm blood covered my scalp where the man had ripped a fistful of hair from my head and I sobbed in pain. I heard Laurë screaming as I fell, but I was too scared to go back.
I ran out of the city, not caring who saw me now, and headed for the boat. It was hard to paddle across with only one of us, and I struggled, sobbing all the way.
When I made it back to the palace it was nearly noon. My parents were in a panic. Of course, when they saw me staggering up, my head covered in dried blood, sobbing and crying Laurë's name, they were sure the worst had happened.
My father summoned the elves to battle, prepared to fight to get his daughter back. But before the elves could even arm themselves, up rides Laurë on a pretty little white pony with the man who had grabbed me and a small escort. She was grinning like a fool, looking much too proud of herself.
The man dismounted and bowed to my mother and father. "I apol'gize for my mis'taking yur children for thieves," he said humbly. "We've had a few prob'ems in our town o' late, and there are ma'nay who would see me dead. I am afraid I…o'er r'acted."
He looked at me, my thumb in my mouth and my eyes red from crying with a bandage over my head, my mother's arm holding me close to her side. "I'm sorry, li'l prince. Can you find it in you to forgive me?"
I nodded and buried my face in my mother's skirt. "Laurë," my father said sternly. "Get down from there."
Laurë hopped off and came forward, beaming. "Father, I—" she began.
My father slapped her. She gasped and stared, her hand coming up to her face. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Go to your room," he said coldly in our language. "You have disgraced us all."
He turned back to the mayor. "I am truly sorry at my daughter's interference. She can be a…spirited child."
"It was no interference, lord. She's a sweet lass—in fact, I've decided to lo'er the tax on the wine for you." If father could have let his jaw drop, it would have hit the ground.
"We thank you," he said, "both for that and the returning of my daughter safe. What can we give you in return?"
He smiled. "A' hour o' talking with yur daughter was payment enough. What a bright lass, for one so small and young!" He remounted, took the pony's reins, and with the customary farewells, rode off into the distance.
Father was silent for a long moment. "Legolas," he said in an odd tone, "why did you and your sister go to Laketown?"
"Laurë wanted to get the mayor to lower the prices for the wine," I whispered. "She said she heard you saying you were being over-charged."
Father sighed and brought a hand to his face. "Laurë, my Laurë, why do you do this to us?" he mourned.
I tried to help Laurë. "Father, it was my idea."
"Do not lie, Legolas," my mother said quietly. "It will not help Laurë."
I shivered and leaned against her. "How are we to be punished?" I asked.
"You will not be allowed to leave the palace for a mortal year."
I gasped. "Father!"
"Silence, Legolas! I will have no more of these incursions into the world without my notice!"
"For your sister, that time is to be lengthened to five mortal years. If she does…if she does, I will lock her in her room for the remaining time plus the original sentence."
I stared. For a young elf, such imprisonment is harsh indeed. Now that I am older I can understand why our father put such limits on our movements. We were the only children of a powerful monarch. We could be captured for ransom, killed by wild spiders, or any other such thing that I did not realize at the time.
Dejected and dispirited I went to our room, but Laurë and her stuff was gone. I ran back into the hall. "Father, Laurë is gone!"
"No, Legolas. I have moved her and her things to another palace. You may not sleep together again. Her bad habits rub off on you."
"They don't!" I yelled.
"Be silent!" my father thundered and I stepped back, a little afraid. "Go to your room. You will have no supper tonight."
I slammed the door behind me.
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