Disclaimer: If I owned lotr would I be writing about it? Here it is anyway, I don't own or have any connection with Lord of the Rings or any of its associates. All right?
Pairings: Legolas & Kĩyara
Summary: The introduction to their life in the Undying Lands. It's a bit slow but this is just to introduce Legolas and Kĩyara's offspring before I get into the juicy stuff.
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"I'm bored."
"You've said that already."
"Well I am, bored, bored, bored. This is a lifeless soulless place and I hate it."
Legolas gave his daughter a sharp look. She looked and acted so much like her mother he smiled inwardly. Her hair was the dark mysterious chestnut brown of Kĩyara's, but her eyes were starry blue. She was slumped in a chair her arms folded across her chest her foot began to tap. He could predict the next few hours now, Kĩyara would return home, one of them would start an argument and then someone would storm out. It was always the same when Áruinne was in this mood and he would get caught in the crossfire.
He sighed.
"Well do something then, ride your horse. She's a fine animal and deserves some attention."
"She keeps throwing me."
"Find your brother do something with him."
"He's not here."
Legolas gave in and continued putting flights on his arrows. There was a small pile of sawdust at his feet where he had been whittling away at the wood. He selected a green feather and clipped it to size with his hunting knife, slotting it into the groove. He ignored his eldest child; he knew that reasoning with her was futile.
Eventually Áruinne got up and stalked out of the room, again he was reminded of Kĩyara, the determined air and long strides were reminiscent of her mother. At least it would save an argument, or so he thought because a few minutes later there were raised voices from the corridor outside. He looked up as the doors to the chamber were hurled open, crashing against the stone pillars.
"Now I know why I didn't want children!"
Kĩyara walked towards him. She was splattered with mud and her cheeks were glowing. She bent down to kiss him but he pulled back
"Your muddy." He said matter of factly.
Laughing Kĩyara wiped a dollop of soft brown mud from her cloak and smudged it on his cheek.
"Kĩyara!" He said in protest pushing her away.
"Never did any one any harm, now your muddy as well so I can kiss you hello." She whispered in his ear.
He gave in not being able to resist her sparkling eyes and soft lips. She pulled back and smiled at him throwing herself down on the chair Áruinne had just left. Legolas placed his quiver down and turned to her.
"What've you done all day then? I wake up and your gone, I hardly see you anymore." Legolas said reproachfully.
Kĩyara didn't answer immediately but carried on picking the mud on her shoes. He watched her, trying to see the look on her face but it was no use as her hair fell forward acting like a curtain. He reached down and pulled the slight waves back and tucked them behind her pointy ear, whatever her expression had been he couldn't tell as she just smiled quickly at him before looking down again.
"Just riding, if we live here we should know our way around the place."
He sighed and shook his head; he knew that Kĩyara already knew Érinan Lethainne like the back of her hand. Every tree in the forest, the scattered Mallorn towering above the ferns, the majestic oaks that she loved right down to the tiny saplings. The narrow winding paths, bubbling streams and waterfalls, every valley and indent in the grassy plain, every cove cliff and cave. He wouldn't be surprised if she was on first name terms with shells that sprawled across the beach. She was hiding something and he couldn't figure out what. However this time he let it drop and didn't push the subject. There were more pressing matters at hand.
The elves had arrived in the undying lands to discover that they were not alone on the wild and beautiful island. There were two other colonies of people. One in the North called the Icenne and one in the South called the Nicene. They were humans and possessed a quarrelsome and violent nature, however the war the elves had expected at their arriving and taking over of the land never happened.
The appearance of the elves had in fact full filled a prophecy the people had of a nation completely different from them that would eventually drive the evil from the land and the island would be forever preserved. The arriving of the elves to the tiny Kingdoms was momentous, never before had they seen people like these, their beauty, grace and wisdom new and awe-inspiring.
Instead of the war the elves had expected they received welcomes. Then they learned of the prophecy, but as far as they could see there was no real evil on the isle though they did not say. The elves held the tribes in low esteem their culture was despised it encouraged pain and suffering.
As long as it did not touch the elves though they were happy sharing the Promised Land with the tribes.
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The next morning rose with unusual serenity, the light spilled out slowly covering things in a golden glow. The birds did not sing with such vigour but were melodious and sweet. The gentle summer breeze lifted the pale muslin drapes that hung over the open doors that led to the balcony and courtyard. The warm night had receded and it promised to be a fresh day.
The oaken carving at the head of the huge double bed looked down lovingly at its occupants, Tuiena, the elf of love and wisdom. Her hands were upturned and held two bowls where candles were placed. Her gaze fell on the pillows. Through her eyes you could see a tall strong elf with light blonde hair and a handsome face with his strong arms around a slightly smaller she-elf. The elf he was holding had a delicate feminine figure but it radiated strength all the same. Her hair was a deep rich chestnut, it was ever so slightly wavy, and a tendril fell across her softly defined face. Her head was resting on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against her forehead. For now there was total peace.
Legolas awoke to sound of small light feet skipping along. He kept his eyes closed to better hear the sound. When it stopped and a heavy object landed on him with a thud. He snapped his eyes open. Looking down on him was a small elven face; it looked a lot like his, as did the light blonde hair, cheeky smile and sapphire blue eyes sparkling under long lashes.
It was his youngest son Celen; he had been born only five years previously and he was without a doubt closer to his loving parents than either of his siblings. The reason was because Celen was the youngest he had no one to play with, to grow up with. Therefore he had developed a good bond with his parents whereas his older brother Fiarén and his sister Áruinne were independent and had always been separate.
He was Kĩyara's special little boy because he was the only one that looked like her beloved husband though Legolas did not know this.
"Wake up!" Celen said excitedly. Legolas pressed a finger to his lips and pointed to the sleeping form of Kĩyara. Celen's face fell. His bottom lip trembled, he was verging on tears when Kĩyara stirred and opened her eyes. The smile on her face at the sight of her son was one of contentment.
"Good morning little prince."
He burst into a smile and jumped on her clamping his arms firmly around her neck. After a brief tussle Kĩyara pulled him off and held him the air while Legolas laughed and he struggled.
"What do you want to do this morning duinn solas?" little prince Kĩyara asked.
"I want to go riding, to see Frodo." He replied in his high child's voice.
"Your missing something." Legolas reprimanded.
"Please." Celen added sweetly.
"Alright then" Kĩyara sat him down on the bed "off you go."
He jumped off the bed and ran full pelt to the doors and away down the corridor his blond hair flying. Kĩyara pulled herself from the bed and dressed, all the while feeling Legolas' eyes on her. Even now she still felt that thrill she had when she first met him, but now instead of the nervousness she had first encountered it was one of anticipation, smiling she turned around and bent over him. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder onto his cheek. She moved her lips closer to his ear
"Don't worry your still my solas." Smiling seductively she turned on her heel and followed her son's trail, grinning at the wake of desire she left. Sighing Legolas rolled onto his side and wondered how she managed to perfect that look that completely melted him.
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Fastening her cloak Kĩyara walked out into the stable yard. It was quiet as it was still very early in the morning; the forty or so horses were the only one's making any noise. The sound of muffled hooves on thick straw beds and the occasional whinny were the only sounds.
From the far end of the stables Kĩyara could see five familiar equine faces peering out of doors, Caradien's golden one. Hénduil's ghostly grey. The others belonged to a big bay called Rockéiath who belonged to Áruinne and Fiarén's horse Leamian who was a dapple grey. Finally there was a little black muzzle poking over the last door, Kĩyara laughed it was Iargail Celen's tiny pony. Looking round she couldn't see her son anywhere, the fears that she had known for so long in Middle Earth still left their cautious ways on all the elves.
"Celen?" Her clear strong voice echoed through the fine morning air only a hint of worry in it.
A little blonde head peered over the top of a barrel, she caught a glimpse of sparkling blue eyes before the cheeky face disappeared. Pretending she hadn't seen him she called out again.
"Where is that cheeky prince?"
She said walking around looking behind bales of straw. As she drew closer to his hiding place Kĩyara could hear his soft breathing and the noise as his light leather shoes slid over the cobbles.
Kĩyara stood tensed like a cat waiting to pounce, she timed it carefully listening to the noises and judging his movements. At the same time they both jumped out to surprise each other. Celen let out a high-pitched laugh as Kĩyara tossed him up into the air.
"How did you know where I was?" Celen said his face falling.
Kĩyara melted completely, his bright round eyes and crestfallen face touched something inside her and an incentive she had once thought she would never show was pushed forward again. Sitting on the barrel and cradling him in her arms as though he was a newborn she told him
"It will come with practise little one. Don't fret. I could hear you breathing that was all." His little face frowned at her.
"You're just saying it to make me feel better aren't you?" He asked perceptively.
"No," Kĩyara replied quite honestly "if you're anything like your father you will be the best hunter there is."
She knew she had prevailed when her son smiled broadly at her and jumped up, racing towards his little pony. Kĩyara laughed as she watched Celen trying to reach the bolt on the black pony's door, jumping up and grabbing at it.
Ten minutes later they walked out of the confines of the palace and onto the gently rolling hills of the grassland.
A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed! Just a note to say that some of the elvish used is accurate some isn't and some isn't elvish at all it Gaelic so please don't shout at me *cowers behind settee*. Thank you!