AN: FINALLY! exams are over!!! Curse our horrendous school system; we
have exams after winter break, which delayed the posting of this chapter. I
am very sorry for not getting this up earlier, and I missed writing it!
*pets computer * ;)
note-If you want me to, ask me, and I'll list all of Legolas's siblings' names at the beginning of each chapter if it gets confusing. (Nine kids!! AAAHHHH!)
another note- Please excuse my limited elvish and the shortness of this chapter. I promise to make the next one much longer(the action/adventure part of the story will soon appear) *bangs head on desk * writer's block.ugh
Disclaimer: Don't own LotR *sob * belongs to The Great Tolkien. ALL HAIL!!!
"A mourning feast." The tone of Olorphin's voice made it clear what he thought. "A feast."
Thranduil gritted his teeth out of habit. Father and son stood less than a foot from one another inside the palace library. Belegril chose this moment of tense silence to wisely slip from the room. Every inhabitant of Mirkwood had learned long ago to vacate the premises when Olorphin and Thranduil stood face to face with their arms crossed and elven glares locked.
"It will be an appropriate gesture of respect toward your brother," The king's voice was on the verge of becoming a growl. Olorphin's stare flickered for a moment at this, but he did not back down. When Naturiel had passed, the eldest prince had learned quickly how to hold a dispute with his father. Olorphin had needed to. Thranduil had not taken his wife's death well, nearly driving himself to death with grief. When the king had recovered, he searched almost eagerly for someone to blame, to relieve his own guilt...
Legolas had been that one. The child Naturiel had wanted so desperately to be protected was subject to his father's anger. Fortunately, Olorphin had spied the smoldering wrath behind Thranduil's grey eyes before long and convinced the Wood elf King that the Queen's passing was not Legolas's fault. Still, even the youngest son of Thranduil knew how close he had come to being rejected.
The thought still sickened Olorphin as he stood before his father.
"It shall be held a fortnight from now. Before you return to the border."
Olorphin turned away in defeat and stormed from the library. A simple feast, to honor perhaps the most valiant warrior of his company. While he despised the idea, he also saw the reason for it. Dark times had fallen upon the forests of Mirkwood, and barely a fortnight could be spared at rest. The attack that had taken Thilaglar's life had been such a surprise that even the eldest warriors in Olorphin's company were shaken. Even in the sanctuary of Thranduil's palace, he could feel rising tension like a stench on the air, moving ever nearer with the winds of approaching darkness. Casting these ominous thoughts from his mind, Olorphin realized with a start that he was standing at Legolas's chamber door. Cautiously he called, "Legolas? Legolas!" There was no answer. The eldest prince sighed, defeated once again and returned to his chambers.
Days pass quickly for the Firstborn of Arda. For Legolas, the next weeks disappeared into the haze of memory, but the hours of those days seemed like an eternity. Barely a word was spoken between Thranduil and his sons, and a stony silence fell upon Mirkwood. The quiet was deafening to the young prince, and he searched almost desperately for something to keep him occupied before his five brothers returned home.
Unfortunately, Olorphin searched for something to occupy himself with as well, and had promptly decided that his youngest brother was desperately in need of training with a sword. After three days of grueling practice, Legolas at last gave into his body's cries for attention one particularly hard afternoon in the grassy archery field. As Olorphin drew his sword to begin a lesson, Legolas collapsed in a heap on the soft ground.
"Legolas?"
"Please, Olorphin, no more swords!" The prince whimpered softly and closed his eyes. After a minute of silence he opened them suspiciously to find Olorphin cross- legged in the grass beside him, his regal head now in his hands.
"I am sorry, Legolas," he murmured. His graceful frame shook with silent sobs as the grief the elf prince had buried days ago found its way out. Legolas felt his own sorrow rise and crawled over to his weeping brother, wrapping his arms around Olorphin's shoulders.
"It will not be easy to return to the border without Thilaglar by my side," Olorphin said quietly. Legolas frowned at his brother's words.
"Return?"
The elf prince raised his head, a lone tear trailing down his cheek. "Yes."
"Why are you returning to the border?" Legolas's voice rose in a slight panic.
"Spiders move quickly, as do orcs. I cannot afford to stay here, Legolas. You know this. Why does it surprise you now?"
"But, Thilaglar...It's too dangerous," he said defiantly, as if that settled the matter. How could Olorphin think of going back into obvious peril after his own brother was killed? Legolas himself had decided not to pick up his bow again after hearing of Thilaglar's death. If a creature of Mirkwood could harm a son of Thranduil, then no one was safe.
Olorphin said nothing as he gazed remorsefully at his brother's fair face, remembering Legolas's youth all too well. The elf felt a wave of guilt on his back when he realized that he was looking into his mother's crystalline eyes and that soon he would be leaving Legolas to stand alone before the Wood elf King.
Another discarded tunic made its way to a pile of garments beside Belegril's mirror. Legolas sighed impatiently and pulled another over his head.
"No," Belegril muttered, "Perhaps a shade lighter?"
The prince rolled his eyes. Yes, he had made a mistake coming to Belegril the evening of the mourning feast. Bothering his brother at a time of stress only led to certain peril.
Many tunics and arguments later, Belegril was at last satisfied of his youngest brother's appearance.
"May I go now?" Legolas groaned, finishing the short braid that fell across his back.
Belegril gave a short nod and shooed his brother down to the dining hall, returning to his quarters to prepare himself.
Even with his pointed ear pressed against the dense woodwork, Legolas could not hear more than the low murmur of melodious elven voices. The prince was not strong enough to pull the heavy doors open by himself, nor did he wish to. A knawing ache in his stomach told him that eventually, he would have to enter the feasting hall and meet his brothers.
'If they still live.'
Legolas nearly choked with the effort of holding back a fresh wave of grief. He leaned heavily against the dark wood, composing himself. Thranduil would never approve of a weeping prince of Mirkwood, and Belegril would be aghast if tears soiled Legolas's tunic. As swiftly as the tears came, a grim smile of amusement crossed his face before he could stop it. Olorphin would feel terrible to see his youngest brother in pain, and Thilaglar-
Would not be there to scold him. Legolas bent over, teetering between insanity and desperate grief. He willed his stomach not to heave, and clambered back to his feet. Slowly, the son of Thranduil became aware of his surroundings once more, burying the pain that threatened to tear him apart.
"Milord?" The guard had returned to his post at last. Legolas nodded silently, not trusting his voice. The guard placed his hand on the prince's shoulder briefly, as if for condolence, before pushing the doors wide. Legolas took a deep breath, and entered the hall of the Wood Elf King.
"Romensul!" Legolas fought the urge to run across the expanse of the feasting hall to his brother. Romensul, the fourth eldest son of Thranduil, smiled with approval as Legolas walked with dignity to his side.
"Mae Govannen, Legolas," the warrior greeted his youngest brother. Legolas craned his neck to look Romensul in the eye. The tallest of Thranduil's line, the elder prince stood a head taller than even Olorphin, and Legolas barely reached his lean shoulders.
"Where is Celebril?" Legolas demanded when he realized his fifth brother was nowhere to be seen. The elder elf glanced around the immense feasting hall before answering in a low tone,
"We parted company a day away from the palace. He led a small party of soldiers eastward to scatter a family of spiders. Do not fear, my brother," the prince added quickly upon noticing Legolas's panicked expression, "He and his company will be arriving before sunrise."
The youngest son of Thranduil breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and the worry that gripped his heart lessened slightly. Romensul offered a comforting smile and turned away, golden hair brushing the back of his grey tunic like a waterfall. Legolas held back a snicker as several elf maidens' eyes followed Romensul's movements and scanned the approaching elves for the rest of his kin.
"Legolas," The Wood Elf King took his son's shoulders and was steering the helpless prince toward the table before Legolas had a chance to react. "Lord Elladen wishes to speak with you."
Legolas knew that was not true; Thranduil had been attempting rather forcefully to associate his youngest son with the noble elves of Arda and this feast would be no different. The prince sent a desperate glance in Romensul's direction, and in one fluid motion, the warrior was beside Elladen, escorting the Noldor elf to a seat beside him. Thranduil said nothing at this, but Legolas felt his grip on his shoulders tighten briefly before releasing him. Legolas nodded in thanks to his brother and sat safely between Olorphin and Belegril.
The king took his place at the head of the long table, and a hush fell over the hall.
"Friends of old, I welcome you to the realm of Mirkwood even in these dark times. May our losses," he paused, regarding the sparse number of his warriors with a sorrowful resolve, "not be in vain, and may the Valar protect our loved ones as they battle for the safety of the Woodland realm."
Olorphin bowed his head, accepting the blessing bestowed upon the warriors. The cold lump in the pit of Legolas's stomach returned as he watched Belegril lower his noble head as well.
Thranduil took his seat, and the mourning feast began. Legolas tugged almost frantically on Belegril's tunic, wrinkling the once smooth material and receiving a glare from his brother.
"Belegril... are you escorting Olorphin to the borders?"
"I am joining him," the elder elf replied in a hollow tone. He turned blank eyes to his brother. "A Company of Noldor elves led by Lord Elladen will join us to fight as well."
Legolas nearly dropped his goblet in confusion. He had never seen Belegril take up a sword, or join a war party, for that matter. His brother had always been somewhere in the palace, studying ancient texts, or helping Legolas with his mapping skills. The youngest son of Thranduil choked on newfound anger and the remnants of elven wine.
"Why are you going?" he cried, and his heart shouted 'Why are you leaving me?' Several elf lords looked over in surprise at the usually quiet prince's outburst. "There are enough warriors to protect the border already." He stared in disbelief at Belegril.
"There are too few, Legolas," the prince said quietly. "You know this well."
"How can you leave," the youngest prince was nearing hysterics. "How can you go back when Thilaglar is dead?!"
An ominous silence fell upon the hall, and the echoes of Legolas's last words were swallowed by the stillness.
"Legolas," Olorphin's soft voice broke the trance held over the elf lords.
Legolas did not answer, but fled from the hall, fresh tears of rage draining him of what love was left for his family.
note-If you want me to, ask me, and I'll list all of Legolas's siblings' names at the beginning of each chapter if it gets confusing. (Nine kids!! AAAHHHH!)
another note- Please excuse my limited elvish and the shortness of this chapter. I promise to make the next one much longer(the action/adventure part of the story will soon appear) *bangs head on desk * writer's block.ugh
Disclaimer: Don't own LotR *sob * belongs to The Great Tolkien. ALL HAIL!!!
"A mourning feast." The tone of Olorphin's voice made it clear what he thought. "A feast."
Thranduil gritted his teeth out of habit. Father and son stood less than a foot from one another inside the palace library. Belegril chose this moment of tense silence to wisely slip from the room. Every inhabitant of Mirkwood had learned long ago to vacate the premises when Olorphin and Thranduil stood face to face with their arms crossed and elven glares locked.
"It will be an appropriate gesture of respect toward your brother," The king's voice was on the verge of becoming a growl. Olorphin's stare flickered for a moment at this, but he did not back down. When Naturiel had passed, the eldest prince had learned quickly how to hold a dispute with his father. Olorphin had needed to. Thranduil had not taken his wife's death well, nearly driving himself to death with grief. When the king had recovered, he searched almost eagerly for someone to blame, to relieve his own guilt...
Legolas had been that one. The child Naturiel had wanted so desperately to be protected was subject to his father's anger. Fortunately, Olorphin had spied the smoldering wrath behind Thranduil's grey eyes before long and convinced the Wood elf King that the Queen's passing was not Legolas's fault. Still, even the youngest son of Thranduil knew how close he had come to being rejected.
The thought still sickened Olorphin as he stood before his father.
"It shall be held a fortnight from now. Before you return to the border."
Olorphin turned away in defeat and stormed from the library. A simple feast, to honor perhaps the most valiant warrior of his company. While he despised the idea, he also saw the reason for it. Dark times had fallen upon the forests of Mirkwood, and barely a fortnight could be spared at rest. The attack that had taken Thilaglar's life had been such a surprise that even the eldest warriors in Olorphin's company were shaken. Even in the sanctuary of Thranduil's palace, he could feel rising tension like a stench on the air, moving ever nearer with the winds of approaching darkness. Casting these ominous thoughts from his mind, Olorphin realized with a start that he was standing at Legolas's chamber door. Cautiously he called, "Legolas? Legolas!" There was no answer. The eldest prince sighed, defeated once again and returned to his chambers.
Days pass quickly for the Firstborn of Arda. For Legolas, the next weeks disappeared into the haze of memory, but the hours of those days seemed like an eternity. Barely a word was spoken between Thranduil and his sons, and a stony silence fell upon Mirkwood. The quiet was deafening to the young prince, and he searched almost desperately for something to keep him occupied before his five brothers returned home.
Unfortunately, Olorphin searched for something to occupy himself with as well, and had promptly decided that his youngest brother was desperately in need of training with a sword. After three days of grueling practice, Legolas at last gave into his body's cries for attention one particularly hard afternoon in the grassy archery field. As Olorphin drew his sword to begin a lesson, Legolas collapsed in a heap on the soft ground.
"Legolas?"
"Please, Olorphin, no more swords!" The prince whimpered softly and closed his eyes. After a minute of silence he opened them suspiciously to find Olorphin cross- legged in the grass beside him, his regal head now in his hands.
"I am sorry, Legolas," he murmured. His graceful frame shook with silent sobs as the grief the elf prince had buried days ago found its way out. Legolas felt his own sorrow rise and crawled over to his weeping brother, wrapping his arms around Olorphin's shoulders.
"It will not be easy to return to the border without Thilaglar by my side," Olorphin said quietly. Legolas frowned at his brother's words.
"Return?"
The elf prince raised his head, a lone tear trailing down his cheek. "Yes."
"Why are you returning to the border?" Legolas's voice rose in a slight panic.
"Spiders move quickly, as do orcs. I cannot afford to stay here, Legolas. You know this. Why does it surprise you now?"
"But, Thilaglar...It's too dangerous," he said defiantly, as if that settled the matter. How could Olorphin think of going back into obvious peril after his own brother was killed? Legolas himself had decided not to pick up his bow again after hearing of Thilaglar's death. If a creature of Mirkwood could harm a son of Thranduil, then no one was safe.
Olorphin said nothing as he gazed remorsefully at his brother's fair face, remembering Legolas's youth all too well. The elf felt a wave of guilt on his back when he realized that he was looking into his mother's crystalline eyes and that soon he would be leaving Legolas to stand alone before the Wood elf King.
Another discarded tunic made its way to a pile of garments beside Belegril's mirror. Legolas sighed impatiently and pulled another over his head.
"No," Belegril muttered, "Perhaps a shade lighter?"
The prince rolled his eyes. Yes, he had made a mistake coming to Belegril the evening of the mourning feast. Bothering his brother at a time of stress only led to certain peril.
Many tunics and arguments later, Belegril was at last satisfied of his youngest brother's appearance.
"May I go now?" Legolas groaned, finishing the short braid that fell across his back.
Belegril gave a short nod and shooed his brother down to the dining hall, returning to his quarters to prepare himself.
Even with his pointed ear pressed against the dense woodwork, Legolas could not hear more than the low murmur of melodious elven voices. The prince was not strong enough to pull the heavy doors open by himself, nor did he wish to. A knawing ache in his stomach told him that eventually, he would have to enter the feasting hall and meet his brothers.
'If they still live.'
Legolas nearly choked with the effort of holding back a fresh wave of grief. He leaned heavily against the dark wood, composing himself. Thranduil would never approve of a weeping prince of Mirkwood, and Belegril would be aghast if tears soiled Legolas's tunic. As swiftly as the tears came, a grim smile of amusement crossed his face before he could stop it. Olorphin would feel terrible to see his youngest brother in pain, and Thilaglar-
Would not be there to scold him. Legolas bent over, teetering between insanity and desperate grief. He willed his stomach not to heave, and clambered back to his feet. Slowly, the son of Thranduil became aware of his surroundings once more, burying the pain that threatened to tear him apart.
"Milord?" The guard had returned to his post at last. Legolas nodded silently, not trusting his voice. The guard placed his hand on the prince's shoulder briefly, as if for condolence, before pushing the doors wide. Legolas took a deep breath, and entered the hall of the Wood Elf King.
"Romensul!" Legolas fought the urge to run across the expanse of the feasting hall to his brother. Romensul, the fourth eldest son of Thranduil, smiled with approval as Legolas walked with dignity to his side.
"Mae Govannen, Legolas," the warrior greeted his youngest brother. Legolas craned his neck to look Romensul in the eye. The tallest of Thranduil's line, the elder prince stood a head taller than even Olorphin, and Legolas barely reached his lean shoulders.
"Where is Celebril?" Legolas demanded when he realized his fifth brother was nowhere to be seen. The elder elf glanced around the immense feasting hall before answering in a low tone,
"We parted company a day away from the palace. He led a small party of soldiers eastward to scatter a family of spiders. Do not fear, my brother," the prince added quickly upon noticing Legolas's panicked expression, "He and his company will be arriving before sunrise."
The youngest son of Thranduil breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and the worry that gripped his heart lessened slightly. Romensul offered a comforting smile and turned away, golden hair brushing the back of his grey tunic like a waterfall. Legolas held back a snicker as several elf maidens' eyes followed Romensul's movements and scanned the approaching elves for the rest of his kin.
"Legolas," The Wood Elf King took his son's shoulders and was steering the helpless prince toward the table before Legolas had a chance to react. "Lord Elladen wishes to speak with you."
Legolas knew that was not true; Thranduil had been attempting rather forcefully to associate his youngest son with the noble elves of Arda and this feast would be no different. The prince sent a desperate glance in Romensul's direction, and in one fluid motion, the warrior was beside Elladen, escorting the Noldor elf to a seat beside him. Thranduil said nothing at this, but Legolas felt his grip on his shoulders tighten briefly before releasing him. Legolas nodded in thanks to his brother and sat safely between Olorphin and Belegril.
The king took his place at the head of the long table, and a hush fell over the hall.
"Friends of old, I welcome you to the realm of Mirkwood even in these dark times. May our losses," he paused, regarding the sparse number of his warriors with a sorrowful resolve, "not be in vain, and may the Valar protect our loved ones as they battle for the safety of the Woodland realm."
Olorphin bowed his head, accepting the blessing bestowed upon the warriors. The cold lump in the pit of Legolas's stomach returned as he watched Belegril lower his noble head as well.
Thranduil took his seat, and the mourning feast began. Legolas tugged almost frantically on Belegril's tunic, wrinkling the once smooth material and receiving a glare from his brother.
"Belegril... are you escorting Olorphin to the borders?"
"I am joining him," the elder elf replied in a hollow tone. He turned blank eyes to his brother. "A Company of Noldor elves led by Lord Elladen will join us to fight as well."
Legolas nearly dropped his goblet in confusion. He had never seen Belegril take up a sword, or join a war party, for that matter. His brother had always been somewhere in the palace, studying ancient texts, or helping Legolas with his mapping skills. The youngest son of Thranduil choked on newfound anger and the remnants of elven wine.
"Why are you going?" he cried, and his heart shouted 'Why are you leaving me?' Several elf lords looked over in surprise at the usually quiet prince's outburst. "There are enough warriors to protect the border already." He stared in disbelief at Belegril.
"There are too few, Legolas," the prince said quietly. "You know this well."
"How can you leave," the youngest prince was nearing hysterics. "How can you go back when Thilaglar is dead?!"
An ominous silence fell upon the hall, and the echoes of Legolas's last words were swallowed by the stillness.
"Legolas," Olorphin's soft voice broke the trance held over the elf lords.
Legolas did not answer, but fled from the hall, fresh tears of rage draining him of what love was left for his family.