Disclaimer: Recognizable characters, places, concepts, and events are the
property of the J.R.R. Tolkien estate.
Author's Notes: I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter so much! I'm afraid this one isn't very amusing, but I promise Legolas's innocent antics will be back.
Rated for angst. This chapter is "PG".
Everyone's reviews have been especially helpful, and this time around I'd like to thank you all personally:
Katherine: Glad he's making you melt---that's what I'm going for!
Esgalromen: Yes, Legolas cross-eyed. The picture in my head was hilarious too.
Dragon-of-the-north: I really enjoy your long reviews. You are quite right; all of those things have been overdone, which is why I have been agonizing over my plot lines lately. Glad you like my humor and characters so much!
daw: Glad you like the family relationships. I've read too many fics were Legolas's whole family seems shallow, completely dysfunctional, or guilt- ridden. I wanted to try something a little different.
Queen of Shadows: Like Dragon, you've been messing with my plot lines! (This is a good thing.) I'm glad you like Legolas---I wanted a version that everyone just wants to run after and scoop right up.
Sammy: Glad you thought the chapter was so cute!
Galadriel Lorien: Yes, yes, he was on my calendar. Of course, Galadriel was on there yesterday though. Keep enjoying yourself!
EMerald Queen: Do you mean when Thilómë notices Legolas "absolutely shining"? No, she's not worried about that. It was just a way of saying that he looked very happy: sparkling eyes, radiant smile. By the way, I'll be looking forward to that nice, long review!
Susan: Glad you thought the chapter was so funny. I'll be sure to add some more mild, completely believable humor later on.
Boy, I sure use the word "glad" a lot! I suppose I watched "Pollyanna" too often as a child!
~*~
Now, to all of you who are so concerned about Thilómë: It has become very apparent that nobody wants me to kill, banish, fade, or deport her. I'm not going to reveal any plot lines, but there is something that Bilbo himself said about books that should make everyone feel a little better (which I shall apply to this fic.). If anyone knows what he said, they can have Legolas's leftover breakfast (does anyone actually want a bowl of barely touched porridge with soggy blackberries?). If not, I'll be sure to put the quote in my author's notes next time.
Also, I did an illustration for Chapter 5, but my scanner software is all installed on a computer that is completely disassembled on my living room floor. My laptop doesn't want to cooperate. As soon as I get the bugs worked out, I'll put it up for you all to see!
As always, I love reading everyone's reviews (I was thrilled to get so many on the last chapter!) and can't wait for more. Your questions and comments are always welcome.
---Aranel
aranels@hotmail.com
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Chapter 8~*~Choices
Thilómë pressed the tips of her fingers together, concentrating on how to word her questions. Now that the moment had come, the words were difficult to find. Still focused on her hands, she finally broke the silence in the room, "When do they leave?"
"In late Spring," Galdor, the visitor from Imladris, responded. He was really from the Grey Havens, but had traveled to Mirkwood after an extended stay in Rivendell. He was having a difficult time with this conversation. Usually his answers on this topic came easily, happily, but it seemed as though the King and Queen of Northern Mirkwood didn't seek them out of desire, but necessity.
Thilómë looked to her husband, pained, "That's too soon." She turned back to Galdor, "When else?"
"Just Spring," Galdor stated.
Thranduil could tell his wife was wrestling with the decision; it was quite evident on her face. How he longed to make it for her! But he could not. He never could have. He would have taken himself into account too much, and that might not be best.
Thilómë dropped her face into her hands. This was too much. The options, the decisions, the awful tired feeling eating away at her. Drawing in a deep breath, she shakily asked Galdor, "And when do they come back?"
"Come back?" Galdor raised his eyebrows, surprised. What could she possibly mean?
"Yes," Thilómë straightened a little, again pressing her fingers together, "When do they come back here?"
Was she serious? Judging by the look in the Elven-Queen's eyes, she was very sincere indeed. Galdor decided to be frank, "They don't. They never come back."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Aldandil stretched, waking up. When had he fallen asleep? Glancing around, he remembered. He had been reading Legolas a story. A long, boring story. It must have been so boring, in fact, that he had put himself to sleep.
Legolas was still on his lap, sound asleep and wrapped in his favorite blanket. Looking down at his brother, Aldandil decided it would be easier just to stay in the chair than to put the elfling to bed. If Legolas woke up, he'd be sure to immediately search out Adar and Naneth, who were still talking to that messenger from Imladris. Aldandil sighed, reaching for the throw on the back of his chair. What they found so interesting about the visitor was beyond him. He spread the blanket over Legolas and himself, settling back. It was certainly a good thing that his brother slept as motionlessly as a tree, instead of like a branch tossed in the wind.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Thranduil walked through the sitting room on his way to check in on his sons. There they were, settled in one of the large, overstuffed chairs, both sleeping soundly. Why hadn't they gone to bed? Shaking his head with a weak smile, he picked up a heavy quilt from another chair, unfolded it, and arranged it over his children. Legolas shifted slightly under the added weight. Thranduil rubbed the child's back, noticing his eyes were closed. He worried about that little one sometimes. It was difficult, raising such a child; to not measure him against his brother, to look past the current obstacles to the future. Still, Legolas had his moments, lots of them. The little episode in court during the day had been one of them. Thranduil would have laughed at the memory if he hadn't been feeling so melancholy.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"He was doing it again," Thranduil walked into his room, shrugging off his formal outer robe.
Thilómë was already in bed, sitting up and working on some kind of embroidery. She tried to sound interested, "Who was doing what again?"
"Legolas. Sleeping with his eyes closed," Thranduil searched around for his nightclothes. There were so many clothes in the room, and even after many years, he could never remember where everything was kept.
"He does that when he's exhausted," Thilómë tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, "Aldandil must have worn him out today."
Thranduil nodded, pulling a garment over his head, "You had yours closed last night."
"I did?" Thilómë set her work on the floor, contemplating on whether or not to venture into the subject. The conversation with Galdor today had already been enough, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it again.
"Yes," Thranduil looked at her, and it was quite obvious that he wanted to talk, even if she didn't. He sat down on the bed next to her, still holding her gaze.
Thilómë looked away, already feeling the conflicting emotions rising up within her. When she opened her mouth to speak, the words came sob-tainted, "I'm so weary, Thranduil, it's as though my spirit's been drained out." Letting her husband gather her into his arms, she continued, "I remember my love for the trees, the stars; but I don't feel it anymore. I want to, but it never comes. It's not in me anymore; it hasn't been for a long time." She drew in a shaky breath as Thranduil rubbed her back in circles, "Something in my pulls, wants to leave, wants to go somewhere where I can feel all those things again, where everything will come back."
"Mmmm," Thranduil couldn't think of anything comforting to say. He never could, not in this situation. All he could think of were the promises he'd made, hundreds of promises. 'Forever and a day,' he'd said, when she'd asked how long they'd be together. Forever and a day.
Thilómë paused a while, trying to quiet herself. What she had to say next could never come out calmly though, "I don't want to leave though! I don't want to go to Valinor! No matter how hard the pull comes, I don't want to go." She raised her head to look into Thranduil's eyes, knowing her own were desperate and watery, "I love you, I love our sons. I don't want to leave you."
"I know," Thranduil pulled her closer, fighting the urge to tell her to stay. It was her decision, not his. He had reminded himself of that so many times, too many times.
"It was horrible enough before," Thilómë was beginning to sound not only depressed, but angry, "The thought of leaving you all for even a few years. But now I've found out that I can never come back! I shouldn't have been so naive, to think I could return." She gripped her husband's shoulders and buried her face in his chest, "It would be like dying."
Author's Notes: I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter so much! I'm afraid this one isn't very amusing, but I promise Legolas's innocent antics will be back.
Rated for angst. This chapter is "PG".
Everyone's reviews have been especially helpful, and this time around I'd like to thank you all personally:
Katherine: Glad he's making you melt---that's what I'm going for!
Esgalromen: Yes, Legolas cross-eyed. The picture in my head was hilarious too.
Dragon-of-the-north: I really enjoy your long reviews. You are quite right; all of those things have been overdone, which is why I have been agonizing over my plot lines lately. Glad you like my humor and characters so much!
daw: Glad you like the family relationships. I've read too many fics were Legolas's whole family seems shallow, completely dysfunctional, or guilt- ridden. I wanted to try something a little different.
Queen of Shadows: Like Dragon, you've been messing with my plot lines! (This is a good thing.) I'm glad you like Legolas---I wanted a version that everyone just wants to run after and scoop right up.
Sammy: Glad you thought the chapter was so cute!
Galadriel Lorien: Yes, yes, he was on my calendar. Of course, Galadriel was on there yesterday though. Keep enjoying yourself!
EMerald Queen: Do you mean when Thilómë notices Legolas "absolutely shining"? No, she's not worried about that. It was just a way of saying that he looked very happy: sparkling eyes, radiant smile. By the way, I'll be looking forward to that nice, long review!
Susan: Glad you thought the chapter was so funny. I'll be sure to add some more mild, completely believable humor later on.
Boy, I sure use the word "glad" a lot! I suppose I watched "Pollyanna" too often as a child!
~*~
Now, to all of you who are so concerned about Thilómë: It has become very apparent that nobody wants me to kill, banish, fade, or deport her. I'm not going to reveal any plot lines, but there is something that Bilbo himself said about books that should make everyone feel a little better (which I shall apply to this fic.). If anyone knows what he said, they can have Legolas's leftover breakfast (does anyone actually want a bowl of barely touched porridge with soggy blackberries?). If not, I'll be sure to put the quote in my author's notes next time.
Also, I did an illustration for Chapter 5, but my scanner software is all installed on a computer that is completely disassembled on my living room floor. My laptop doesn't want to cooperate. As soon as I get the bugs worked out, I'll put it up for you all to see!
As always, I love reading everyone's reviews (I was thrilled to get so many on the last chapter!) and can't wait for more. Your questions and comments are always welcome.
---Aranel
aranels@hotmail.com
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Chapter 8~*~Choices
Thilómë pressed the tips of her fingers together, concentrating on how to word her questions. Now that the moment had come, the words were difficult to find. Still focused on her hands, she finally broke the silence in the room, "When do they leave?"
"In late Spring," Galdor, the visitor from Imladris, responded. He was really from the Grey Havens, but had traveled to Mirkwood after an extended stay in Rivendell. He was having a difficult time with this conversation. Usually his answers on this topic came easily, happily, but it seemed as though the King and Queen of Northern Mirkwood didn't seek them out of desire, but necessity.
Thilómë looked to her husband, pained, "That's too soon." She turned back to Galdor, "When else?"
"Just Spring," Galdor stated.
Thranduil could tell his wife was wrestling with the decision; it was quite evident on her face. How he longed to make it for her! But he could not. He never could have. He would have taken himself into account too much, and that might not be best.
Thilómë dropped her face into her hands. This was too much. The options, the decisions, the awful tired feeling eating away at her. Drawing in a deep breath, she shakily asked Galdor, "And when do they come back?"
"Come back?" Galdor raised his eyebrows, surprised. What could she possibly mean?
"Yes," Thilómë straightened a little, again pressing her fingers together, "When do they come back here?"
Was she serious? Judging by the look in the Elven-Queen's eyes, she was very sincere indeed. Galdor decided to be frank, "They don't. They never come back."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Aldandil stretched, waking up. When had he fallen asleep? Glancing around, he remembered. He had been reading Legolas a story. A long, boring story. It must have been so boring, in fact, that he had put himself to sleep.
Legolas was still on his lap, sound asleep and wrapped in his favorite blanket. Looking down at his brother, Aldandil decided it would be easier just to stay in the chair than to put the elfling to bed. If Legolas woke up, he'd be sure to immediately search out Adar and Naneth, who were still talking to that messenger from Imladris. Aldandil sighed, reaching for the throw on the back of his chair. What they found so interesting about the visitor was beyond him. He spread the blanket over Legolas and himself, settling back. It was certainly a good thing that his brother slept as motionlessly as a tree, instead of like a branch tossed in the wind.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Thranduil walked through the sitting room on his way to check in on his sons. There they were, settled in one of the large, overstuffed chairs, both sleeping soundly. Why hadn't they gone to bed? Shaking his head with a weak smile, he picked up a heavy quilt from another chair, unfolded it, and arranged it over his children. Legolas shifted slightly under the added weight. Thranduil rubbed the child's back, noticing his eyes were closed. He worried about that little one sometimes. It was difficult, raising such a child; to not measure him against his brother, to look past the current obstacles to the future. Still, Legolas had his moments, lots of them. The little episode in court during the day had been one of them. Thranduil would have laughed at the memory if he hadn't been feeling so melancholy.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"He was doing it again," Thranduil walked into his room, shrugging off his formal outer robe.
Thilómë was already in bed, sitting up and working on some kind of embroidery. She tried to sound interested, "Who was doing what again?"
"Legolas. Sleeping with his eyes closed," Thranduil searched around for his nightclothes. There were so many clothes in the room, and even after many years, he could never remember where everything was kept.
"He does that when he's exhausted," Thilómë tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, "Aldandil must have worn him out today."
Thranduil nodded, pulling a garment over his head, "You had yours closed last night."
"I did?" Thilómë set her work on the floor, contemplating on whether or not to venture into the subject. The conversation with Galdor today had already been enough, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it again.
"Yes," Thranduil looked at her, and it was quite obvious that he wanted to talk, even if she didn't. He sat down on the bed next to her, still holding her gaze.
Thilómë looked away, already feeling the conflicting emotions rising up within her. When she opened her mouth to speak, the words came sob-tainted, "I'm so weary, Thranduil, it's as though my spirit's been drained out." Letting her husband gather her into his arms, she continued, "I remember my love for the trees, the stars; but I don't feel it anymore. I want to, but it never comes. It's not in me anymore; it hasn't been for a long time." She drew in a shaky breath as Thranduil rubbed her back in circles, "Something in my pulls, wants to leave, wants to go somewhere where I can feel all those things again, where everything will come back."
"Mmmm," Thranduil couldn't think of anything comforting to say. He never could, not in this situation. All he could think of were the promises he'd made, hundreds of promises. 'Forever and a day,' he'd said, when she'd asked how long they'd be together. Forever and a day.
Thilómë paused a while, trying to quiet herself. What she had to say next could never come out calmly though, "I don't want to leave though! I don't want to go to Valinor! No matter how hard the pull comes, I don't want to go." She raised her head to look into Thranduil's eyes, knowing her own were desperate and watery, "I love you, I love our sons. I don't want to leave you."
"I know," Thranduil pulled her closer, fighting the urge to tell her to stay. It was her decision, not his. He had reminded himself of that so many times, too many times.
"It was horrible enough before," Thilómë was beginning to sound not only depressed, but angry, "The thought of leaving you all for even a few years. But now I've found out that I can never come back! I shouldn't have been so naive, to think I could return." She gripped her husband's shoulders and buried her face in his chest, "It would be like dying."
