Haldir sighed as he saw Greenwood appear in his line of vision. Being near
trees once more after such a long and tedious journey would be a blessing
from the Valar. The mare beneath him seemed to appreciate how close they
both were to rest and food. He nickered gently into the wind and sped up
slightly, the gentle wind blowing through his silver mane. The Anâr shone
her rays generously. To any mortal who saw the march-warden riding at full
pelt across the plains would be a heavenly vision. His silver gold hair
flew out behind him held back by two single braids at either side of his
head. His face was set and determined, a schooled mask of indifference,
years of experience had taught him not to let even a single emotion out
through his features. Especially his eyes. The sapphire orbs glistened with
some un definable emotion as he rode, surrounded by the ethereal light of
all Elves, ever onwards towards the settlement of Greenwood the great.
Great it was indeed. Even from a distance, the march-warden of 'Lorien could take in the span of greenwood. The trees were in their prime, creating a beautiful canopy which was littered with wildlife and, Haldir had no doubts, hidden Elf guards.
Even thought Greenwood was not at all like the heavenly settlement of Lothlorien, it held it's own majestic air none the less. A wonder of Thranduil, thought Haldir. Wherever the blond King of Greenwood was, an air of royalty and majestic wonder seemed to surround him and those who accompanied him. His wife and Queen, Fimbrethil, had held the same qualities, until she gave into her grief and passed into the Halls of Mandos. Haldir had only met the King and Queen once, when he was an elfling residing in 'Lorien. Fimbrethil had been so kind, she was so gentle. For some reason she always reminded Haldir of silk.
After Fimbrethil's death, Thranduil seemed to turn cold, his heart hardened. That was the year that slavery was made legal in the realm of Greenwood the Great.
The march-warden knew not of any heirs of Thranduil. In fact, if anyone had asked him, he would have said there was no Prince of Greenwood. Nobody had ever spoken of him if he even existed.
Haldir was withdrawn from his musings has an Elvish arrow embedded itself deep in the soft ground in front of his mare, causing the creature to rear up, almost throwing his rider to the ground had he not grabbed the mane in time. "Utinu en lokirim." [Son of snakes] Haldir muttered under his breath in shock.
"Daro! Mankoi naa lle sinome? Pedo!" [halt! Why are you here? Speak!] came the Elvish cry from somewhere above the march-warden's head.
"I am Haldir, march-warden of Lothlorien. I am sent by Lord Celebron to deliver a message to King Thranduil."
After a brief silence and Elf leapt from the tree coming to halt infront of Haldir's mare. "Follow me. I shall lead you to the King. Amin Elros Súrion, Círdanlion." [I am Elros Súrion, son of Círdan] The golden haired elf stated simply. He lead Haldir down a winding path towards the palace in the mountains.
At the palace gates, Elros muttered something to a messenger who was passing into the palace. He then turned to Haldir and smiled. "Follow me, I will lead you to the King's study. Tis' where he spends most of his time. I trust you will wish to stay a few days?"
Haldir wasn't listening. He had his eyes glued to a young blond Elf who was scrubbing the floor endlessly. Haldir noted that the elf looked younger than himself. He was clad in the general greens and browns of the woodland realm. His leggings were in nothing more than tatters, with great holes in the knees and multiple stains covering them. His shirt was no better. It was ripped in several places and no longer recognisable as its original colour which was some shade of deep forest green, now turned murky brown. His hair was once long, now gut short, just longer than his chin, it was matted and dirty and sticking up all over.
Elros followed the 'Lorien elf's line of sigh and sighed. "Slavery. Tis's a terrible thing. He is the King's personal slave. Some say he did not remember his name when he was brought here." He closed his mouth suddenly. Maybe he should not say too much to this stranger, as trust worthy as he seemed.
"What *is* his name?" Haldir had stopped walking and was staring at the elf who seemed not tired even though the rays of Anâr burned his almost bare back.
"Mablung Oronar." Elros muttered quietly.
Haldir stiffened and he gasped slightly. "Wh-why is he called Mablung?" Haldir questioned although he had a good idea. Mablung Oronar translates to Tortured Being in Westron.
Elros began moving again, climbing slowly up a winding marble stair case with Haldir close behind. "Guess." Was the answer.
Haldir cast one more glance down to Mablung at the bottom of the stairs. He felt his knees buckle beneath him as the slave looked up and crystal eyes locked with crystal eyes, exchanging life stories in an instant.
Haldir was terrified at what he saw in that instant.
A/N Hope you like. This was written to cure me of my writers block. My muses are on strike so this is pretty bad. I hope it will get better. Review and tell me what you think. This is AU so don't flame me about the fact that I have butchered Tokiens time lines. ~DISCLAIMER~ His. Not mine. Except I own Viggo and Orlando in my sad little mind.
Great it was indeed. Even from a distance, the march-warden of 'Lorien could take in the span of greenwood. The trees were in their prime, creating a beautiful canopy which was littered with wildlife and, Haldir had no doubts, hidden Elf guards.
Even thought Greenwood was not at all like the heavenly settlement of Lothlorien, it held it's own majestic air none the less. A wonder of Thranduil, thought Haldir. Wherever the blond King of Greenwood was, an air of royalty and majestic wonder seemed to surround him and those who accompanied him. His wife and Queen, Fimbrethil, had held the same qualities, until she gave into her grief and passed into the Halls of Mandos. Haldir had only met the King and Queen once, when he was an elfling residing in 'Lorien. Fimbrethil had been so kind, she was so gentle. For some reason she always reminded Haldir of silk.
After Fimbrethil's death, Thranduil seemed to turn cold, his heart hardened. That was the year that slavery was made legal in the realm of Greenwood the Great.
The march-warden knew not of any heirs of Thranduil. In fact, if anyone had asked him, he would have said there was no Prince of Greenwood. Nobody had ever spoken of him if he even existed.
Haldir was withdrawn from his musings has an Elvish arrow embedded itself deep in the soft ground in front of his mare, causing the creature to rear up, almost throwing his rider to the ground had he not grabbed the mane in time. "Utinu en lokirim." [Son of snakes] Haldir muttered under his breath in shock.
"Daro! Mankoi naa lle sinome? Pedo!" [halt! Why are you here? Speak!] came the Elvish cry from somewhere above the march-warden's head.
"I am Haldir, march-warden of Lothlorien. I am sent by Lord Celebron to deliver a message to King Thranduil."
After a brief silence and Elf leapt from the tree coming to halt infront of Haldir's mare. "Follow me. I shall lead you to the King. Amin Elros Súrion, Círdanlion." [I am Elros Súrion, son of Círdan] The golden haired elf stated simply. He lead Haldir down a winding path towards the palace in the mountains.
At the palace gates, Elros muttered something to a messenger who was passing into the palace. He then turned to Haldir and smiled. "Follow me, I will lead you to the King's study. Tis' where he spends most of his time. I trust you will wish to stay a few days?"
Haldir wasn't listening. He had his eyes glued to a young blond Elf who was scrubbing the floor endlessly. Haldir noted that the elf looked younger than himself. He was clad in the general greens and browns of the woodland realm. His leggings were in nothing more than tatters, with great holes in the knees and multiple stains covering them. His shirt was no better. It was ripped in several places and no longer recognisable as its original colour which was some shade of deep forest green, now turned murky brown. His hair was once long, now gut short, just longer than his chin, it was matted and dirty and sticking up all over.
Elros followed the 'Lorien elf's line of sigh and sighed. "Slavery. Tis's a terrible thing. He is the King's personal slave. Some say he did not remember his name when he was brought here." He closed his mouth suddenly. Maybe he should not say too much to this stranger, as trust worthy as he seemed.
"What *is* his name?" Haldir had stopped walking and was staring at the elf who seemed not tired even though the rays of Anâr burned his almost bare back.
"Mablung Oronar." Elros muttered quietly.
Haldir stiffened and he gasped slightly. "Wh-why is he called Mablung?" Haldir questioned although he had a good idea. Mablung Oronar translates to Tortured Being in Westron.
Elros began moving again, climbing slowly up a winding marble stair case with Haldir close behind. "Guess." Was the answer.
Haldir cast one more glance down to Mablung at the bottom of the stairs. He felt his knees buckle beneath him as the slave looked up and crystal eyes locked with crystal eyes, exchanging life stories in an instant.
Haldir was terrified at what he saw in that instant.
A/N Hope you like. This was written to cure me of my writers block. My muses are on strike so this is pretty bad. I hope it will get better. Review and tell me what you think. This is AU so don't flame me about the fact that I have butchered Tokiens time lines. ~DISCLAIMER~ His. Not mine. Except I own Viggo and Orlando in my sad little mind.