A/N Let me just say for the record that this story is a huge indulgence
for myself. I cannot deny that it is a Mary Sue because I would dearly
love to trade places with this woman. However, I am a huge LotR fan. I
have read the books numerous times over the past 15 years or so, but I also
thoroughly enjoyed the movie. Personally, while reading the books I was
always in love with Aragorn, but it would seem very wrong to me to write a
love story for him since Tolkien has already done so. My two other
favorite characters were always Legolas and Gimli, but I must admit never
thinking of Legolas in a romantic way until I saw Orlando Bloom playing him
in the movie. And since Tolkien did not provide the good elf with a love
story, I thought I would do so here. But this is not some sappy romance,
it will be full of adventure and drama based solely on the writings of
Tolkien. Love was never forgotten in Tolkien's novels, but it always came
hand-in-hand with the daily battles all men must fight, and in truth love
always played a secondary role to ones duties as a human being, elf, dwarf,
hobbit, or ent. So if you enjoy Tolkien's world, but do not mind a little
Legolas romance please read on. If the thought of the elf falling in love
makes you sick to your stomach, then please stop right here.
Chapter One
A Discovery in the Woods
At a silent gesture from their leader the band of elves halted. This part of the forest, as most parts, was thick with trees and it was virtually impossible to see any great distance even with keen elven eyes. It was nearly noon, but only a few small shafts of sunlight were able to penetrate to the forest floor. There were large beech trees as far as the eye could see, gray ghosts in the ever-present twilight under their great eaves.
Gaerlin listened intently to the sounds of the forest around him. All was silent with the exception of the breeze blowing through the topmost branches of the surrounding trees. This puzzled him for he was now certain that he had heard something. Twice he had heard it before, almost the mewling of a small animal to his ears, but had dismissed it when it had not continued. Now, three times his ears had picked up the noise and he was certain they had not been deceived.
Turning around he looked at the faces of the elves that were following him. They too were listening intently, waiting for the noise to come again. Gaerlin's gaze rested on the elf closest to him. The elf nodded in silent agreement. There had been a noise and they would wait here to listen until it came again. The elves remained motionless, barely breathing.
They did not have to wait long. After a few minutes there came again the pathetic sound of some small animal. Gaerlin immediately set off in the direction of the noise determined to find its source. The others followed closely behind. Like their leader they were consumed with curiosity and pity for whatever was making that sound. They had not come far when the poor creature let out another cry. Gaerlin adjusted his course accordingly and sped up his pace. The last cry had been clearer, and the elf was now more concerned about what the creature was.
Rounding a rather large beech trunk Gaerlin came suddenly upon the source of the cries. A small human baby lay naked upon the earth. There was nothing else nearby – no blanket, clothing, toys, nothing. It looked as though the child had been abandoned in the forest to die. Gaerlin turned around to face the other elves, "Search the surrounding area for any sign of the one who left this child." Without question the others scattered to look for signs.
Gaerlin looked down at the little human. By the looks of her she could not be more than a month old, but then again he was not an expert in human beings. The Wood-elves had few dealings with the men who lived between Greenwood the Great and the Misty Mountains. Still, she was extremely small, and reminded Gaerlin of his brother Legolas when he had been born. The baby's face was suddenly contorted as she prepared to cry again. Her small frame appeared to be shivering in the cool spring air, and salt from her tears was encrusted down the side of each chubby cheek.
Removing the moss green colored cloak from around his shoulders and folding it into fourths, Gaerlin laid the cloak upon the earth and picked up the small child. Immediately she stopped crying. The elf brought her close and cradled her against his chest. The infant closed her eyes and began cooing softly. Gaerlin could not help but smile. The elves had always had a strange effect on humans, but he had no idea it could stop little ones from crying. There were undoubtedly many mothers throughout Middle-earth who would love to have an elf as a nursemaid. Laying the child in the center of his cloak he quickly bundled her up. As soon as he had put her down her face became twisted and a small cry escaped her lips. Gaerlin immediately picked up the bundle and the child grew quiet once again.
Gently the elf seated himself on the ground cross-legged and rested the child in his lap. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Gaerlin smiled down at her and the baby cooed yet again. Pulling the waterskin from his side the elf wet his long fingers then placed one inside her mouth. Instinctually the baby began to suck taking the needed moisture. He continued feeding her water in this fashion while waiting for the others.
One by one the other elves returned. They had searched the surrounding area thoroughly but could find no signs of human or elf. Gaerlin considered this for a moment. With the exception of the Dunedain humans were not usually adept at concealing their tracks. Gaerlin reasoned that the child could not have been here for more than a day, more than likely she was left here that very morning. Had it been much longer the infant would have died from exposure or have been taken away by some animal for food. The situation seemed very odd to the elf, but he could think of nothing else to do but return with the child and let his father deicide its fate. "We will return with the child to Miregroth, and present her to my father. He will want to know of this strange tale."
Gaerlin rose and walked back to the main trail, the baby still cradled in his arms. The journey back to Miregroth would take several hours. He and his company of elves had little in the way of food, and nothing fit for so one so young. He hoped the child would not begin crying again out of hunger. Gaerlin looked down at the little girl once again, but her eyes were closed and her breathing came in long, even measure. She had fallen asleep.
The Forest River flowed swiftly under the bridge, it's dark waters headed east towards Long Lake. The way back had been uneventful and Gaerlin was glad to return to the great hall of his father, King Thranduil. He came to the end of the bridge and crossing a few feet of solid ground came to the steep stairs which rose along the embankment of the river. Gaerlin was uncertain how his father would react to this news, this child. Thranduil was not overly friendly with men, although he had always welcomed those of the Dunedain into Miregroth. He had never been outwardly hostile towards men, as he was towards the dwarves, but he was ever distrustful of any outsiders. This small child, however, should not evoke his father's mistrust. Still, her presence in the forest was extremely odd, and that alone would make Thranduil cautious.
Crossing the large grassy area at the top of the stairs Gaerlin came to the gate of Miregroth. Two of his father's guard stood at the entrance. They bowed low as Gaerlin approached, but he caught the inquisitive looks they shot one another as he passed through bearing the small bundle.
The tunnels were well lit with many torches, and the walls, which were flecked with gold, sparkled in their shimmering light. He passed few elves as he made his way to the Great Hall, but all looked inquisitively at the bundled cloak held tightly to his chest. He smiled to himself at the thought that none here would likely guess as to what it was he carried. The way was not long and soon he came to the open doors which led into his father's throne room.
His entrance was immediately noted, and all those who were attending to his father bowed low as he approached the dais on which Thranduil sat upon his throne. Standing next to Thranduil was Gaerlin's brother, Legolas. He was drenched from head to foot and wore a scowl which could have curdled milk. Gaerlin was curious as to what had happened to the young elf, but knew that it would have to wait. Bowing to his king Gaerlin said, "Greetings father, how goes it with you this day?"
Thranduil smiled down at his son, "The day had been going quite well, until your brother here had to be rescued out of the river." Gaerlin turned to stare at Legolas, whose face was now turning an interesting shade of crimson. "It seems that he was showing off his abilities in horseback riding to some of the young female elves when he lost control and tumbled into the river. Luckily he retained some of his wits and managed to swim to one of the banks where he caught hold of a tree root. A few of his guard were able to lower a rope to him and pull him to safety." Thranduil sighed in mock exasperation, "I don't think I can ever recall such a thing happening within the kingdom. Perhaps he hurt his head more than was thought when he fell from that tree last week."
Gaerlin grinned at his father, "He does seem to be quite accident prone, Father." Legolas eyes shot daggers at his older brother. Gaerlin winked back at him. In truth, Legolas was only twenty years old, practically a child by elvish standards. But it had been quite some time since the wood- elves had a newborn elf within their midst, and many had forgotten that very young elves were only slightly more coordinated than humans of the same age.
"What do you carry there, Gaerlin, with such care?" his father's voice rousing him from his reverie.
Being careful not to wake her Gaerlin climbed the steps to his father's throne, and displayed the sleeping infant to him. There was very little that surprised Thranduil, but his eyes widened at the sight of the infant. "Where did you find this child, Gaerlin?"
"In the woods about ten leagues south of here in the giant beech groves. She was not clothed, and I and my guard were unable to find any sign of a human presence within the area. I can only reason that she was abandoned, but where we found her is over one hundred leagues from the western edge of the forest. It seems nearly impossible that any human would come so far only to abandon a child."
Thranduil continued to stare at the girl, "Perhaps that is not where she was abandoned. Perhaps some animal carried her from far away and left her there ere you approached."
"It is possible, sire, but I think not. There were no markings on her body to indicate such, nor was there any evidence of a large animal in the vicinity."
Thranduil shook his head, "This is very strange indeed. But I see no reason why this infant could be of any harm to us." The king held out his arms to take the child. As she was passed from Gaerlin to his father she awoke. Blue eyes stared up at the king of the wood-elves. "Come, Legolas, and look upon this human child.
The youngest son of Thranduil was still soaking wet, and wished only to return to his rooms to change into drier clothing, but he knew it was no use refusing his father's request. He moved around the edge of the throne to look upon the little girl. "She is so small, so fragile. It is a wonder human children ever survive to grow old."
Thranduil smiled, "Ah, but even the elves must start out so small and fragile. It is only by the careful watchfulness of their parents that a human or elven child ever grows old. You were even this small once, but somehow, despite your best efforts, you have grown up strong." Gaerlin laughed at his father's comment and Legolas's face darkened.
"Father," Gaerlin spoke, "The child has undoubtedly not eaten in quite some time."
"Here, Legolas," the king held the child out for Legolas. "Take her to the kitchens and see if there is some milk we can give to her." Before he could protest the child was in his arms. He was unsure as to how to hold her, but he emulated the cradling position he had seen his father and brother do. Thranduil nodded in approval and the young elf left the Great Hall in search of food.
Turning to his elder son Thranduil placed a hand on his arm, "I can see you are already quite fond of the child, my son."
Gaerlin nodded. "It has been nice to hold a child again, Father. I have not done so since Legolas was born, and before that it has been much longer."
Thranduil smiled, "I know, for I feel the same way, but she cannot stay here, Gaerlin. She needs to be with her own people. She would feel very out of place growing up here." Gaerlin nodded. He had expected this. "But she shall not leave just yet. We are expecting Arantar's arrival in a few weeks. He is of the Dunedain and will better know what should be done with her. Until then I will leave her in your care."
"Thank you, Father. She will be most welcome in my home." With that Gaerlin descended the dais, turned and bowed once more to the king, then departed to find Legolas and the child.
One cycle of the moon had passed before Arantar, the crown prince of Arnor, arrived in Miregroth. Arantar had spent a great deal of time among the elves, both in Greenwood the Great and Imladris. The Dunedain knew the wisdom in learning from the elves, and all in the line of Isildur had come to study their ways. Arantar, the great-grandson of Isildur, had spent much time in Thranduil's realm and had made there many friends, including Gaerlin. His training was complete, but he still returned once a year to Greenwood the Great to see his friends. Gaerlin had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Dunadan, but now his feelings were mixed with some sorrow for he knew the baby would likely be departing with his friend.
Arantar was told of the baby shortly after his arrival, and came to Gaerlin's rooms to see the little girl. "I am as baffled as you are, my friend, as to how the infant came to be so deep within the forest. But however it happened she is lucky that you happened along to find her, or else she would surely have died."
Gaerlin nodded to his friend, "Undoubtedly so, but I have had time to think about this, and I think she was meant to be found. I am uncertain who put her there, but it was so close to Miregroth that I can only believe she was meant to be found by the elves." Gaerlin picked up the baby and cradled her next to him.
"Do you think it wise then for me to take her from this place. If you were meant to find her, then there must be a reason why. Perhaps she should remain with you?"
Gaerlin shook his head sadly, "How should an elf raise a human child?"
Arantar laughed, "Much the same as you would raise an elf child I would imagine." Arantar held out his arms and Gaerlin gave him the child. Almost immediately she began crying.
"That is odd," said Gaerlin, "She has not cried once since she has come to live with me."
Arantar bounced the baby gently up and down making soothing noises. The cries of the child only intensified with his effort. Finally the Dunadan handed her back to Gaerlin. The crying softened then stopped almost as soon as she was in the elf's arms. "Well, she seems to have taken to you, Gaerlin. I wonder if she will suffer to be separated from you."
The elf smiled sadly back at Arantar, "She has little choice in the matter, I'm afraid."
The duration of Arantar's stay was filled with feasting, hunting, swordplay, and not just a little rest and relaxation. As in all places where the elves dwelt time seemed to slow down, but too soon was the Dunadan's visit come to its end. All had risen before the dawn to take the morning's meal together. Gaerlin had brought the child to the table and was feeding her cow's milk from a waterskin, which had been modified with a goat's bladder so that the child could suckle from it. The elf' face was etched with lines of sadness. "Where will the child go when she returns with you to Arnor?"
Arantar took a large swig of wine and cleared his throat, "I know how dear she is to you, and so I will try to find a place for her within my father's palace. Perhaps my Father-sister would be willing to raise her. All of her children are grown and have left her hearth, and I believe she would be overjoyed to have another little one to look after." The Dunadan speared a large hunk of venison with his knife and popped the whole thing into his mouth.
Gaerlin smiled, both at his friend's rough manners and at his gratitude in knowing the girl would be well looked after. "Thank you, Arantar. My fears have been relieved." The Dunadan smiled back as best he could while he continued to chew the venison.
Too soon was the meal complete and Gaerlin was carrying the infant for the last time to the trail across the bridge from Miregroth. Arantar bowed deeply before Thranduil, "It has been an honor to be your guest, sire."
Thranduil nodded, "The honor has been ours, Prince Arantar. Know that you are always welcome in the land of the wood-elves."
The Dunadan bowed again to the king then turned to Gaerlin. Bowing once more to the prince he then grabbed him in a rough bear hug. "It has been good to see you again, my friend."
"Ai, Arantar! Take care. You are pressing too hard on the child." Gaerlin shook his head in mock resignation, "I fear this child has a rough path ahead with only the Dunedain to take care of her."
Arantar laughed heartily and clasped the elf by the shoulder, "Undoubtedly so, your highness, but soon she will be in the care of the good women of Arnor. Have no fear." The two grinned at each other. Arantar's guard were already seated atop their steeds and ready to ride. The Dunadan mounted his horse in one swift movement. Gaerlin cradled the child one more time kissing her gently on the forehead, "I name you elf- friend, little one, and bid you someday return to the realm of the Wood- elves." A small tear hung at the corner of the elf's eye as he held the child up for Arantar to take. Almost as soon as she was in the Dunadan's arms she began to cry.
Arantar held her gently then turned to Gaerlin, "Do not worry, my friend, many of us feel as she does when we are sundered from the elves, but she will soon heal." The Dunadan turned his horse around then looked back over his shoulder, "Farewell, my friends. May we meet again soon." With that he nudged his horse forward and started down the forest path his men falling in line behind him.
"Farewell, may your journey be easy, and may you soon see the warm fires of your homes," cried the elves as the men passed from sight.
It had been a fortnight since Arantar had departed with the human infant. Gaerlin had been in mourning ever since that day. The other elves had grown increasingly concerned for him for he would not come out from his rooms, but spent the days lying in his bed mourning the loss of the baby. None, not even his brother Legolas, whom he loved dearly, could rouse him from his sadness. Gaerlin himself could not explain his attachment to the little girl, but he somehow felt as if giving her away had not been the right thing to do. A feeling had been growing in him that he was meant to take care of the child, and that he had failed when he handed her over to the men of Arnor.
That evening as Gaerlin lay in his bed distraught a knock came at his door. The elf sighed. Undoubtedly it was family or friends come to lift his spirits, but he was not in the mood to humor them. "Please, come back tomorrow or the next day. I am tired," he called to whomever was at the door.
The door opened. Angrily Gaerlin turned over to see who had defied his request for peace. "Legolas, did you not hear me? I said, go away." Gaerlin turned again to put his back to his younger brother.
"I did hear you, Gaerlin, but I am not here to pay a social visit. Father has requested your presence in the Great Hall immediately."
Gaerlin detected the sound of excitement in Legolas's voice. He rolled over to face the young elf, "Why? What has happened?"
Legolas smiled, "I think you must see this for yourself, but I do believe it will brighten your mood."
Gaerlin rose and threw on the tunic that was lying on a nearby chair. Quickly he ran a comb through his hair until he looked presentable enough for the king. "What?" said Gaerlin catching the grin on his brother's face.
"Oh, nothing," replied Legolas, "It's just that I do not know why you are bothering. Compared to me you look like a troll."
With a flick of his wrist the comb went sailing across the room to hit the young elf smack in the face, "I can turn that pretty face into a mess far worse than a troll's if you would like." Gaerlin strode past Legolas and out into the hall heading for his father's throne room. Legolas rubbed the sore spot on his nose where the comb had hit and followed his older brother.
Gaerlin soon arrived at the throne room. His father was standing in the center of the room with his back to the door, and in front of him was Arantar. Gaerlin blinked in surprise and hurried over to his friend, concern welling up in him that something had happened to the baby. Hearing the approaching footsteps Thranduil turned around. In his arms was the little girl. Gaerlin cried out in happiness and went forward to take the child from his father. She did not wake with the movement, but as soon as she was cradled up against Gaerlin's chest she began contentedly sucking her thumb.
Gaerlin looked inquisitively first at his father and then at Arantar. The Dunadan smiled back at his friend, "It seems you were wrong my friend. The child does have some choice in the matter, and she has chosen to stay with the elves."
Gaerlin's eyes lit up in sheer happiness and he kissed the little girl once again. Still confused he turned to Arantar, "But how?"
"For seven days we rode with the child to the feet of the Misty Mountains. Never once did she stop crying, and she refused to eat. I managed to keep some water in her, but she refused any of the milk we tried to give her. Finally I realized she was speaking to us loud and clear. She would return to the Wood-elves, and if that was not allowed then she would die."
Gaerlin could scarce believe what he was hearing. The child had chosen to live with the elves or die? How was that possible? It seemed there was more to this human than meets the eye. "Thank you, Arantar, for bringing her back to us. If that is her choice then we will do our best to raise her." Arantar nodded in acknowledgement.
"Your journey has been long, Arantar. Let us go to the kitchens and see what we can find for weary travelers." Thranduil clapped the Dunadan on the shoulder, "And our little one here must be very hungry. We should find her some milk, and Gaerlin will feed her."
Thranduil's tone was light, but his sons could see the tension written on his face. Legolas turned to his older brother with a questioning look. Gaerlin shook his head. While the little human was a great joy for Gaerlin, he knew his father would not see it so. Thranduil had built this realm as a haven for the elves. A few Dunedain visiting now and again was one thing, but to raise a human child in the midst of their own was quite another. How was she to fit in? And how much of elvish ways should she be taught? How much of her own? And who was qualified to teach her? All these things weighed heavily on the mind of Thranduil, but for his part Gaerlin felt for the first time in two weeks that his world was as it should be.
Chapter One
A Discovery in the Woods
At a silent gesture from their leader the band of elves halted. This part of the forest, as most parts, was thick with trees and it was virtually impossible to see any great distance even with keen elven eyes. It was nearly noon, but only a few small shafts of sunlight were able to penetrate to the forest floor. There were large beech trees as far as the eye could see, gray ghosts in the ever-present twilight under their great eaves.
Gaerlin listened intently to the sounds of the forest around him. All was silent with the exception of the breeze blowing through the topmost branches of the surrounding trees. This puzzled him for he was now certain that he had heard something. Twice he had heard it before, almost the mewling of a small animal to his ears, but had dismissed it when it had not continued. Now, three times his ears had picked up the noise and he was certain they had not been deceived.
Turning around he looked at the faces of the elves that were following him. They too were listening intently, waiting for the noise to come again. Gaerlin's gaze rested on the elf closest to him. The elf nodded in silent agreement. There had been a noise and they would wait here to listen until it came again. The elves remained motionless, barely breathing.
They did not have to wait long. After a few minutes there came again the pathetic sound of some small animal. Gaerlin immediately set off in the direction of the noise determined to find its source. The others followed closely behind. Like their leader they were consumed with curiosity and pity for whatever was making that sound. They had not come far when the poor creature let out another cry. Gaerlin adjusted his course accordingly and sped up his pace. The last cry had been clearer, and the elf was now more concerned about what the creature was.
Rounding a rather large beech trunk Gaerlin came suddenly upon the source of the cries. A small human baby lay naked upon the earth. There was nothing else nearby – no blanket, clothing, toys, nothing. It looked as though the child had been abandoned in the forest to die. Gaerlin turned around to face the other elves, "Search the surrounding area for any sign of the one who left this child." Without question the others scattered to look for signs.
Gaerlin looked down at the little human. By the looks of her she could not be more than a month old, but then again he was not an expert in human beings. The Wood-elves had few dealings with the men who lived between Greenwood the Great and the Misty Mountains. Still, she was extremely small, and reminded Gaerlin of his brother Legolas when he had been born. The baby's face was suddenly contorted as she prepared to cry again. Her small frame appeared to be shivering in the cool spring air, and salt from her tears was encrusted down the side of each chubby cheek.
Removing the moss green colored cloak from around his shoulders and folding it into fourths, Gaerlin laid the cloak upon the earth and picked up the small child. Immediately she stopped crying. The elf brought her close and cradled her against his chest. The infant closed her eyes and began cooing softly. Gaerlin could not help but smile. The elves had always had a strange effect on humans, but he had no idea it could stop little ones from crying. There were undoubtedly many mothers throughout Middle-earth who would love to have an elf as a nursemaid. Laying the child in the center of his cloak he quickly bundled her up. As soon as he had put her down her face became twisted and a small cry escaped her lips. Gaerlin immediately picked up the bundle and the child grew quiet once again.
Gently the elf seated himself on the ground cross-legged and rested the child in his lap. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Gaerlin smiled down at her and the baby cooed yet again. Pulling the waterskin from his side the elf wet his long fingers then placed one inside her mouth. Instinctually the baby began to suck taking the needed moisture. He continued feeding her water in this fashion while waiting for the others.
One by one the other elves returned. They had searched the surrounding area thoroughly but could find no signs of human or elf. Gaerlin considered this for a moment. With the exception of the Dunedain humans were not usually adept at concealing their tracks. Gaerlin reasoned that the child could not have been here for more than a day, more than likely she was left here that very morning. Had it been much longer the infant would have died from exposure or have been taken away by some animal for food. The situation seemed very odd to the elf, but he could think of nothing else to do but return with the child and let his father deicide its fate. "We will return with the child to Miregroth, and present her to my father. He will want to know of this strange tale."
Gaerlin rose and walked back to the main trail, the baby still cradled in his arms. The journey back to Miregroth would take several hours. He and his company of elves had little in the way of food, and nothing fit for so one so young. He hoped the child would not begin crying again out of hunger. Gaerlin looked down at the little girl once again, but her eyes were closed and her breathing came in long, even measure. She had fallen asleep.
The Forest River flowed swiftly under the bridge, it's dark waters headed east towards Long Lake. The way back had been uneventful and Gaerlin was glad to return to the great hall of his father, King Thranduil. He came to the end of the bridge and crossing a few feet of solid ground came to the steep stairs which rose along the embankment of the river. Gaerlin was uncertain how his father would react to this news, this child. Thranduil was not overly friendly with men, although he had always welcomed those of the Dunedain into Miregroth. He had never been outwardly hostile towards men, as he was towards the dwarves, but he was ever distrustful of any outsiders. This small child, however, should not evoke his father's mistrust. Still, her presence in the forest was extremely odd, and that alone would make Thranduil cautious.
Crossing the large grassy area at the top of the stairs Gaerlin came to the gate of Miregroth. Two of his father's guard stood at the entrance. They bowed low as Gaerlin approached, but he caught the inquisitive looks they shot one another as he passed through bearing the small bundle.
The tunnels were well lit with many torches, and the walls, which were flecked with gold, sparkled in their shimmering light. He passed few elves as he made his way to the Great Hall, but all looked inquisitively at the bundled cloak held tightly to his chest. He smiled to himself at the thought that none here would likely guess as to what it was he carried. The way was not long and soon he came to the open doors which led into his father's throne room.
His entrance was immediately noted, and all those who were attending to his father bowed low as he approached the dais on which Thranduil sat upon his throne. Standing next to Thranduil was Gaerlin's brother, Legolas. He was drenched from head to foot and wore a scowl which could have curdled milk. Gaerlin was curious as to what had happened to the young elf, but knew that it would have to wait. Bowing to his king Gaerlin said, "Greetings father, how goes it with you this day?"
Thranduil smiled down at his son, "The day had been going quite well, until your brother here had to be rescued out of the river." Gaerlin turned to stare at Legolas, whose face was now turning an interesting shade of crimson. "It seems that he was showing off his abilities in horseback riding to some of the young female elves when he lost control and tumbled into the river. Luckily he retained some of his wits and managed to swim to one of the banks where he caught hold of a tree root. A few of his guard were able to lower a rope to him and pull him to safety." Thranduil sighed in mock exasperation, "I don't think I can ever recall such a thing happening within the kingdom. Perhaps he hurt his head more than was thought when he fell from that tree last week."
Gaerlin grinned at his father, "He does seem to be quite accident prone, Father." Legolas eyes shot daggers at his older brother. Gaerlin winked back at him. In truth, Legolas was only twenty years old, practically a child by elvish standards. But it had been quite some time since the wood- elves had a newborn elf within their midst, and many had forgotten that very young elves were only slightly more coordinated than humans of the same age.
"What do you carry there, Gaerlin, with such care?" his father's voice rousing him from his reverie.
Being careful not to wake her Gaerlin climbed the steps to his father's throne, and displayed the sleeping infant to him. There was very little that surprised Thranduil, but his eyes widened at the sight of the infant. "Where did you find this child, Gaerlin?"
"In the woods about ten leagues south of here in the giant beech groves. She was not clothed, and I and my guard were unable to find any sign of a human presence within the area. I can only reason that she was abandoned, but where we found her is over one hundred leagues from the western edge of the forest. It seems nearly impossible that any human would come so far only to abandon a child."
Thranduil continued to stare at the girl, "Perhaps that is not where she was abandoned. Perhaps some animal carried her from far away and left her there ere you approached."
"It is possible, sire, but I think not. There were no markings on her body to indicate such, nor was there any evidence of a large animal in the vicinity."
Thranduil shook his head, "This is very strange indeed. But I see no reason why this infant could be of any harm to us." The king held out his arms to take the child. As she was passed from Gaerlin to his father she awoke. Blue eyes stared up at the king of the wood-elves. "Come, Legolas, and look upon this human child.
The youngest son of Thranduil was still soaking wet, and wished only to return to his rooms to change into drier clothing, but he knew it was no use refusing his father's request. He moved around the edge of the throne to look upon the little girl. "She is so small, so fragile. It is a wonder human children ever survive to grow old."
Thranduil smiled, "Ah, but even the elves must start out so small and fragile. It is only by the careful watchfulness of their parents that a human or elven child ever grows old. You were even this small once, but somehow, despite your best efforts, you have grown up strong." Gaerlin laughed at his father's comment and Legolas's face darkened.
"Father," Gaerlin spoke, "The child has undoubtedly not eaten in quite some time."
"Here, Legolas," the king held the child out for Legolas. "Take her to the kitchens and see if there is some milk we can give to her." Before he could protest the child was in his arms. He was unsure as to how to hold her, but he emulated the cradling position he had seen his father and brother do. Thranduil nodded in approval and the young elf left the Great Hall in search of food.
Turning to his elder son Thranduil placed a hand on his arm, "I can see you are already quite fond of the child, my son."
Gaerlin nodded. "It has been nice to hold a child again, Father. I have not done so since Legolas was born, and before that it has been much longer."
Thranduil smiled, "I know, for I feel the same way, but she cannot stay here, Gaerlin. She needs to be with her own people. She would feel very out of place growing up here." Gaerlin nodded. He had expected this. "But she shall not leave just yet. We are expecting Arantar's arrival in a few weeks. He is of the Dunedain and will better know what should be done with her. Until then I will leave her in your care."
"Thank you, Father. She will be most welcome in my home." With that Gaerlin descended the dais, turned and bowed once more to the king, then departed to find Legolas and the child.
One cycle of the moon had passed before Arantar, the crown prince of Arnor, arrived in Miregroth. Arantar had spent a great deal of time among the elves, both in Greenwood the Great and Imladris. The Dunedain knew the wisdom in learning from the elves, and all in the line of Isildur had come to study their ways. Arantar, the great-grandson of Isildur, had spent much time in Thranduil's realm and had made there many friends, including Gaerlin. His training was complete, but he still returned once a year to Greenwood the Great to see his friends. Gaerlin had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Dunadan, but now his feelings were mixed with some sorrow for he knew the baby would likely be departing with his friend.
Arantar was told of the baby shortly after his arrival, and came to Gaerlin's rooms to see the little girl. "I am as baffled as you are, my friend, as to how the infant came to be so deep within the forest. But however it happened she is lucky that you happened along to find her, or else she would surely have died."
Gaerlin nodded to his friend, "Undoubtedly so, but I have had time to think about this, and I think she was meant to be found. I am uncertain who put her there, but it was so close to Miregroth that I can only believe she was meant to be found by the elves." Gaerlin picked up the baby and cradled her next to him.
"Do you think it wise then for me to take her from this place. If you were meant to find her, then there must be a reason why. Perhaps she should remain with you?"
Gaerlin shook his head sadly, "How should an elf raise a human child?"
Arantar laughed, "Much the same as you would raise an elf child I would imagine." Arantar held out his arms and Gaerlin gave him the child. Almost immediately she began crying.
"That is odd," said Gaerlin, "She has not cried once since she has come to live with me."
Arantar bounced the baby gently up and down making soothing noises. The cries of the child only intensified with his effort. Finally the Dunadan handed her back to Gaerlin. The crying softened then stopped almost as soon as she was in the elf's arms. "Well, she seems to have taken to you, Gaerlin. I wonder if she will suffer to be separated from you."
The elf smiled sadly back at Arantar, "She has little choice in the matter, I'm afraid."
The duration of Arantar's stay was filled with feasting, hunting, swordplay, and not just a little rest and relaxation. As in all places where the elves dwelt time seemed to slow down, but too soon was the Dunadan's visit come to its end. All had risen before the dawn to take the morning's meal together. Gaerlin had brought the child to the table and was feeding her cow's milk from a waterskin, which had been modified with a goat's bladder so that the child could suckle from it. The elf' face was etched with lines of sadness. "Where will the child go when she returns with you to Arnor?"
Arantar took a large swig of wine and cleared his throat, "I know how dear she is to you, and so I will try to find a place for her within my father's palace. Perhaps my Father-sister would be willing to raise her. All of her children are grown and have left her hearth, and I believe she would be overjoyed to have another little one to look after." The Dunadan speared a large hunk of venison with his knife and popped the whole thing into his mouth.
Gaerlin smiled, both at his friend's rough manners and at his gratitude in knowing the girl would be well looked after. "Thank you, Arantar. My fears have been relieved." The Dunadan smiled back as best he could while he continued to chew the venison.
Too soon was the meal complete and Gaerlin was carrying the infant for the last time to the trail across the bridge from Miregroth. Arantar bowed deeply before Thranduil, "It has been an honor to be your guest, sire."
Thranduil nodded, "The honor has been ours, Prince Arantar. Know that you are always welcome in the land of the wood-elves."
The Dunadan bowed again to the king then turned to Gaerlin. Bowing once more to the prince he then grabbed him in a rough bear hug. "It has been good to see you again, my friend."
"Ai, Arantar! Take care. You are pressing too hard on the child." Gaerlin shook his head in mock resignation, "I fear this child has a rough path ahead with only the Dunedain to take care of her."
Arantar laughed heartily and clasped the elf by the shoulder, "Undoubtedly so, your highness, but soon she will be in the care of the good women of Arnor. Have no fear." The two grinned at each other. Arantar's guard were already seated atop their steeds and ready to ride. The Dunadan mounted his horse in one swift movement. Gaerlin cradled the child one more time kissing her gently on the forehead, "I name you elf- friend, little one, and bid you someday return to the realm of the Wood- elves." A small tear hung at the corner of the elf's eye as he held the child up for Arantar to take. Almost as soon as she was in the Dunadan's arms she began to cry.
Arantar held her gently then turned to Gaerlin, "Do not worry, my friend, many of us feel as she does when we are sundered from the elves, but she will soon heal." The Dunadan turned his horse around then looked back over his shoulder, "Farewell, my friends. May we meet again soon." With that he nudged his horse forward and started down the forest path his men falling in line behind him.
"Farewell, may your journey be easy, and may you soon see the warm fires of your homes," cried the elves as the men passed from sight.
It had been a fortnight since Arantar had departed with the human infant. Gaerlin had been in mourning ever since that day. The other elves had grown increasingly concerned for him for he would not come out from his rooms, but spent the days lying in his bed mourning the loss of the baby. None, not even his brother Legolas, whom he loved dearly, could rouse him from his sadness. Gaerlin himself could not explain his attachment to the little girl, but he somehow felt as if giving her away had not been the right thing to do. A feeling had been growing in him that he was meant to take care of the child, and that he had failed when he handed her over to the men of Arnor.
That evening as Gaerlin lay in his bed distraught a knock came at his door. The elf sighed. Undoubtedly it was family or friends come to lift his spirits, but he was not in the mood to humor them. "Please, come back tomorrow or the next day. I am tired," he called to whomever was at the door.
The door opened. Angrily Gaerlin turned over to see who had defied his request for peace. "Legolas, did you not hear me? I said, go away." Gaerlin turned again to put his back to his younger brother.
"I did hear you, Gaerlin, but I am not here to pay a social visit. Father has requested your presence in the Great Hall immediately."
Gaerlin detected the sound of excitement in Legolas's voice. He rolled over to face the young elf, "Why? What has happened?"
Legolas smiled, "I think you must see this for yourself, but I do believe it will brighten your mood."
Gaerlin rose and threw on the tunic that was lying on a nearby chair. Quickly he ran a comb through his hair until he looked presentable enough for the king. "What?" said Gaerlin catching the grin on his brother's face.
"Oh, nothing," replied Legolas, "It's just that I do not know why you are bothering. Compared to me you look like a troll."
With a flick of his wrist the comb went sailing across the room to hit the young elf smack in the face, "I can turn that pretty face into a mess far worse than a troll's if you would like." Gaerlin strode past Legolas and out into the hall heading for his father's throne room. Legolas rubbed the sore spot on his nose where the comb had hit and followed his older brother.
Gaerlin soon arrived at the throne room. His father was standing in the center of the room with his back to the door, and in front of him was Arantar. Gaerlin blinked in surprise and hurried over to his friend, concern welling up in him that something had happened to the baby. Hearing the approaching footsteps Thranduil turned around. In his arms was the little girl. Gaerlin cried out in happiness and went forward to take the child from his father. She did not wake with the movement, but as soon as she was cradled up against Gaerlin's chest she began contentedly sucking her thumb.
Gaerlin looked inquisitively first at his father and then at Arantar. The Dunadan smiled back at his friend, "It seems you were wrong my friend. The child does have some choice in the matter, and she has chosen to stay with the elves."
Gaerlin's eyes lit up in sheer happiness and he kissed the little girl once again. Still confused he turned to Arantar, "But how?"
"For seven days we rode with the child to the feet of the Misty Mountains. Never once did she stop crying, and she refused to eat. I managed to keep some water in her, but she refused any of the milk we tried to give her. Finally I realized she was speaking to us loud and clear. She would return to the Wood-elves, and if that was not allowed then she would die."
Gaerlin could scarce believe what he was hearing. The child had chosen to live with the elves or die? How was that possible? It seemed there was more to this human than meets the eye. "Thank you, Arantar, for bringing her back to us. If that is her choice then we will do our best to raise her." Arantar nodded in acknowledgement.
"Your journey has been long, Arantar. Let us go to the kitchens and see what we can find for weary travelers." Thranduil clapped the Dunadan on the shoulder, "And our little one here must be very hungry. We should find her some milk, and Gaerlin will feed her."
Thranduil's tone was light, but his sons could see the tension written on his face. Legolas turned to his older brother with a questioning look. Gaerlin shook his head. While the little human was a great joy for Gaerlin, he knew his father would not see it so. Thranduil had built this realm as a haven for the elves. A few Dunedain visiting now and again was one thing, but to raise a human child in the midst of their own was quite another. How was she to fit in? And how much of elvish ways should she be taught? How much of her own? And who was qualified to teach her? All these things weighed heavily on the mind of Thranduil, but for his part Gaerlin felt for the first time in two weeks that his world was as it should be.