Silvan Soldier
randomwriter96
Disclaimer: Own nothing. Have nothing. ^^; Therefore, don't sue. Have nothing = have no money. Oo; Unless you absolutely have to have 15 cents...
Note: This is my attempt at recreating Thranduil's childhood and life thereon using the info I have from the Silmarillion, the Unfinished Tales, LOTR, etc. And websites such as the Encyclopedia of Arda. Do not hesitate to tell me if I have a mistake or not. ^^;
Enjoy. :o) And thank you for reviewing.
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Gil-galad and Thranduil entered a grand hall, adorned with sparkling jewels and hundreds of blazing torches. Long gilded tables and high-backed chairs of velvet completed half the hall while the other half remained empty.
"Why is that side of the room empty, Gil-galad?" Thranduil, clutching Gil- galad's hand with one of his hands, pointed at the empty half of the hall with his other.
"It's the floor for dancing," Gil-galad smiled and gestured towards the far corner where the musicians were.
"Dancing?..." Thranduil stepped back, "Do we have to?"
"It would be rude and impolite not to if someone asked you to," Gil-galad said.
"I can't dance," Thranduil blurted out, looking at the floor and shifting his feet.
"Of course you can dance. Everyone can-" Suddenly, Gil-galad recalled a disaster some hundred years ago: a clumsy elf danced right into a butler who was carrying a tray of stacked wine glasses. The glasses fell and broke, the spilled wine causing people to slip and fall onto the broken pieces. A few stitches were needed that day, "-dance," he patted Thranduil's head.
"No, I can't. I can't remember the steps. I can't remember anything," Thranduil frowned and looked up at Gil-galad with watery eyes.
"Well, it is far too late to learn now. I must attend to my guests. I suppose the best thing you can do is to make sure to stay out of sight once the dancing is underway. I am truly sorry," Gil-galad led Thranduil to a crowd of young rambunctious Elves and said, "Here, why don't you play with these boys and make some new friends? I will see you later," With that, Gil- galad left. Thranduil watched him until he disappeared into the crowd. More and more Elves were coming in. He wondered if the feast hall, even as big as it was, would seat everyone. He then turned around to face a small multitude of boys staring at him. All of them had brown hair so dark that it was almost black. They looked to be about his own age. Thranduil bit his bottom lip.
"Hi. I'm Thranduil," He waited for a response. Any response.
"You don't look familiar. Are you a Noldor?" A boy, a bit taller than the rest, came forth and scrutinized Thranduil, eyeing his much-lighter brown hair.
"N-no. I'm Silvan," Thranduil was intimidated and fingered the bottom of his tunic. Thranduil didn't experience much with other children as he was nearly privately tutored in everything and Greenwood didn't have many children in the first place.
"Silvan? What are you doing here?" the boy frowned. Thranduil felt a small pang of anger.
"Why shouldn't I be here? I was invited,"
"To a Noldor festival?" the boy raised an eyebrow scornfully.
"A Noldor festival may be held by the Noldors, but it doesn't mean other Elves should not be able to attend,"
"So you say," the boy replied haughtily, then changed subjects nonchalantly, "What were you doing with Gil-galad?"
"Talking to him...." Thranduil replied slowly, as if that was the most obvious answer.
"He doesn't talk to children. Much less Silvan children. Rumor has it that if children talk to him, he'll slay them. He's dangerous like that. You're a liar," the boy said firmly.
"I am not a liar!" Thranduil said hotly.
"Don't be talking to me like that. Haven't you ever heard of respecting your elders?" the boy sneered. The other boy Elves looked on with anticipation. Some were eager and looked at Thranduil with their noses in the air while others were afraid and nervously watched the two. "It is said that the Silvans are barbaric and run around unclothed and uncivilized. Is that what you do?"
"You are sick and YOU are the liar! We are NOT barbaric and Greenwood has one of the mightiest realms in Middle-Earth! If I was not civilized, you would be dead! And Gil-galad is kind and nice to me! He's my friend!" Thranduil let the words spill out of his mouth, one tear running down his cheek. He cursed himself as he often cried when he got angry.
"You Silvan piece of filth!" the boy spat and strode off alone. The other boys looked nervously at each other and quietly dispersed. One stood still facing Thranduil.
"He isn't always like this. It's just his father doesn't like Silvan Elves and the family hates Gil-galad because his father didn't get the position of Herald. Elrond did," the boy spoke quickly. Thranduil calmed down.
"I would've hit him but father said not to hit anything but orcs. And I'm still too young for that, he says," Thranduil said depressingly. "What is your name anyhow?"
"Galion," he replied with a half-smile on his face.
"Galion," Thranduil repeated, nodding. "Are you-" At this moment, a girl interrupted them.
"Galion, come on! You have been talking to your friends forever! Father says to come back and finish your vegetables," the girl said, crossly folding her arms. She was the same height as Galion.
"You're rude. I was talking to Thranduil,"
"Who is Thranduil?" the girl turned to look at Thranduil and for some reason he felt embarrassed.
"A new friend,"
"Is he a Noldor? His hair looks far too light,"
"Try talking to him, sister. He is right here," Galion insisted "Thranduil, this is my twin sister, Alaniel," Thranduil nodded to her.
"No, I'm not a Noldor. I'm....Silvan," he replied, hoping she wouldn't spit on him and call him filth..like the other boy did.
"No wonder...you have nice hair. Dark hair is dull. I don't like my hair," the girl blew back a piece of hair that fell over her face. Thranduil blushed.
"Th-thank you. Your hair is pretty," Thranduil blinked and wondered why he said this. The girl giggled.
"Oh, I'll just leave you two alone and go finish my vegetables," Galion smiled. Wait! Wait! Thranduil begged with his eyes. He felt uncomfortable being alone in the presence of a girl. A small warning lighted in the back of his mind, crying "Invisible disease! Invisible disease!" He wanted to back away, but he knew it was impolite. His father would surely reprimand him if he ever found out he was impolite to a girl.
"So, are you going to be joining the contests of skill after dinner?" Alaniel's green eyes bored into his brown ones.
"Uhm...yes, I am. Archery. You know, uhm, bows and, uhm, firing arrows.." Thranduil stuttered.
"I like archery. Galion's going to be competing too, but in sword fighting. He likes swords better," she wondered why she rambled on about her brother. Thranduil nodded.
"And you? Are you competing in anything?"
"What are you talking about?"
"We were just talking about contests of skill. Are you competing?" He repeated.
"Look at me. I'm a girl!"
"I can see that..." Thranduil felt a mild flush creeping up his face.
"Girls aren't allowed to compete," she stated sadly. "We might get hurt," she added, sighing.
"In Greenwood, girls are allowed to anything boys can. Except fight in wars," Thranduil said eagerly. "Maybe you could come. Then you could compete," The girl smiled.
"I would like that," They stared at each other for a moment.
"Thranduil! I want you to meet someone," Oropher appeared and put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder. Thranduil turned around and smiled.
"Yes, father," he replied and starting walking away. He turned his head and his eyes met Alaniel's. She blinked furiously when they disappeared into the crowd. That was King Oropher of Greenwood! And she was talking to the Prince!
"Oh, I'm stupid...." she sighed.
"Yes, we all know that already," Galion patted her shoulder sympathetically, coming up behind her.
"Stop teasing. Do you know who Thranduil is?"
"He is....Thranduil?" Galion frowned.
"The Prince of Greenwood!"
"He is?" Galion said incredulously. "Well, that's good if you marry him. You'll be a Lady. And that means I'll be a Lord." He smiled. "I saw you two talking a lot,"
"That doesn't mean I'll be marrying him! I don't'-I don't even like him!" She blushed and turned away.
"You are lying..." Galion said in a sing-song tone. She smacked him lightly on the forehead and angrily strode off. "You are lying," He repeated quietly and headed back to the tables as everyone else did. Gil-galad was about to announce the welcoming of all the Elves. Hopefully, it would not last a half an hour as it did during last year's festival...
To be continued...
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Note: I know in "reality" that Elrond is about the same age as Thranduil, but here I'm just making him a couple hundred years older. And I know seven- year-olds don't normally sound as mature as I made them sound...but seven- year-old Elves magically are. ^^;
How was it? ^^ *points to review button*
To Dragon-of-the-north: :o) no worries. Searching for a meaning behind everything shows that you're intuitive. Which I must say is a hell of a lot better than the "OMG!!!11 LEGOLAS IS SOOOOOO SEXIIIII!!!11" reviews I've seen on other stories. I've never seen a reviewer like you before, and it's quite awesome. Oh, and for that "illegitimate son" part, I'm trying not to make Galadriel sound too perfect or goddess-like. It could be seen as her crude sense of humor, I suppose. And thank you very much! ^_^ You know how to make lowly writers like me feel happy.
To feanen: :o) Thank you!
To Roheryn: ^_^ I hope I can keep up with your expectations. It was your favorite chapter? I feel honored! :D aww, thank you! I try to make the characters more "realistic". Key word being "try".
To Lutris: :o) Thank you!! *gives you a cookie*
randomwriter96
Disclaimer: Own nothing. Have nothing. ^^; Therefore, don't sue. Have nothing = have no money. Oo; Unless you absolutely have to have 15 cents...
Note: This is my attempt at recreating Thranduil's childhood and life thereon using the info I have from the Silmarillion, the Unfinished Tales, LOTR, etc. And websites such as the Encyclopedia of Arda. Do not hesitate to tell me if I have a mistake or not. ^^;
Enjoy. :o) And thank you for reviewing.
********************************************************
Gil-galad and Thranduil entered a grand hall, adorned with sparkling jewels and hundreds of blazing torches. Long gilded tables and high-backed chairs of velvet completed half the hall while the other half remained empty.
"Why is that side of the room empty, Gil-galad?" Thranduil, clutching Gil- galad's hand with one of his hands, pointed at the empty half of the hall with his other.
"It's the floor for dancing," Gil-galad smiled and gestured towards the far corner where the musicians were.
"Dancing?..." Thranduil stepped back, "Do we have to?"
"It would be rude and impolite not to if someone asked you to," Gil-galad said.
"I can't dance," Thranduil blurted out, looking at the floor and shifting his feet.
"Of course you can dance. Everyone can-" Suddenly, Gil-galad recalled a disaster some hundred years ago: a clumsy elf danced right into a butler who was carrying a tray of stacked wine glasses. The glasses fell and broke, the spilled wine causing people to slip and fall onto the broken pieces. A few stitches were needed that day, "-dance," he patted Thranduil's head.
"No, I can't. I can't remember the steps. I can't remember anything," Thranduil frowned and looked up at Gil-galad with watery eyes.
"Well, it is far too late to learn now. I must attend to my guests. I suppose the best thing you can do is to make sure to stay out of sight once the dancing is underway. I am truly sorry," Gil-galad led Thranduil to a crowd of young rambunctious Elves and said, "Here, why don't you play with these boys and make some new friends? I will see you later," With that, Gil- galad left. Thranduil watched him until he disappeared into the crowd. More and more Elves were coming in. He wondered if the feast hall, even as big as it was, would seat everyone. He then turned around to face a small multitude of boys staring at him. All of them had brown hair so dark that it was almost black. They looked to be about his own age. Thranduil bit his bottom lip.
"Hi. I'm Thranduil," He waited for a response. Any response.
"You don't look familiar. Are you a Noldor?" A boy, a bit taller than the rest, came forth and scrutinized Thranduil, eyeing his much-lighter brown hair.
"N-no. I'm Silvan," Thranduil was intimidated and fingered the bottom of his tunic. Thranduil didn't experience much with other children as he was nearly privately tutored in everything and Greenwood didn't have many children in the first place.
"Silvan? What are you doing here?" the boy frowned. Thranduil felt a small pang of anger.
"Why shouldn't I be here? I was invited,"
"To a Noldor festival?" the boy raised an eyebrow scornfully.
"A Noldor festival may be held by the Noldors, but it doesn't mean other Elves should not be able to attend,"
"So you say," the boy replied haughtily, then changed subjects nonchalantly, "What were you doing with Gil-galad?"
"Talking to him...." Thranduil replied slowly, as if that was the most obvious answer.
"He doesn't talk to children. Much less Silvan children. Rumor has it that if children talk to him, he'll slay them. He's dangerous like that. You're a liar," the boy said firmly.
"I am not a liar!" Thranduil said hotly.
"Don't be talking to me like that. Haven't you ever heard of respecting your elders?" the boy sneered. The other boy Elves looked on with anticipation. Some were eager and looked at Thranduil with their noses in the air while others were afraid and nervously watched the two. "It is said that the Silvans are barbaric and run around unclothed and uncivilized. Is that what you do?"
"You are sick and YOU are the liar! We are NOT barbaric and Greenwood has one of the mightiest realms in Middle-Earth! If I was not civilized, you would be dead! And Gil-galad is kind and nice to me! He's my friend!" Thranduil let the words spill out of his mouth, one tear running down his cheek. He cursed himself as he often cried when he got angry.
"You Silvan piece of filth!" the boy spat and strode off alone. The other boys looked nervously at each other and quietly dispersed. One stood still facing Thranduil.
"He isn't always like this. It's just his father doesn't like Silvan Elves and the family hates Gil-galad because his father didn't get the position of Herald. Elrond did," the boy spoke quickly. Thranduil calmed down.
"I would've hit him but father said not to hit anything but orcs. And I'm still too young for that, he says," Thranduil said depressingly. "What is your name anyhow?"
"Galion," he replied with a half-smile on his face.
"Galion," Thranduil repeated, nodding. "Are you-" At this moment, a girl interrupted them.
"Galion, come on! You have been talking to your friends forever! Father says to come back and finish your vegetables," the girl said, crossly folding her arms. She was the same height as Galion.
"You're rude. I was talking to Thranduil,"
"Who is Thranduil?" the girl turned to look at Thranduil and for some reason he felt embarrassed.
"A new friend,"
"Is he a Noldor? His hair looks far too light,"
"Try talking to him, sister. He is right here," Galion insisted "Thranduil, this is my twin sister, Alaniel," Thranduil nodded to her.
"No, I'm not a Noldor. I'm....Silvan," he replied, hoping she wouldn't spit on him and call him filth..like the other boy did.
"No wonder...you have nice hair. Dark hair is dull. I don't like my hair," the girl blew back a piece of hair that fell over her face. Thranduil blushed.
"Th-thank you. Your hair is pretty," Thranduil blinked and wondered why he said this. The girl giggled.
"Oh, I'll just leave you two alone and go finish my vegetables," Galion smiled. Wait! Wait! Thranduil begged with his eyes. He felt uncomfortable being alone in the presence of a girl. A small warning lighted in the back of his mind, crying "Invisible disease! Invisible disease!" He wanted to back away, but he knew it was impolite. His father would surely reprimand him if he ever found out he was impolite to a girl.
"So, are you going to be joining the contests of skill after dinner?" Alaniel's green eyes bored into his brown ones.
"Uhm...yes, I am. Archery. You know, uhm, bows and, uhm, firing arrows.." Thranduil stuttered.
"I like archery. Galion's going to be competing too, but in sword fighting. He likes swords better," she wondered why she rambled on about her brother. Thranduil nodded.
"And you? Are you competing in anything?"
"What are you talking about?"
"We were just talking about contests of skill. Are you competing?" He repeated.
"Look at me. I'm a girl!"
"I can see that..." Thranduil felt a mild flush creeping up his face.
"Girls aren't allowed to compete," she stated sadly. "We might get hurt," she added, sighing.
"In Greenwood, girls are allowed to anything boys can. Except fight in wars," Thranduil said eagerly. "Maybe you could come. Then you could compete," The girl smiled.
"I would like that," They stared at each other for a moment.
"Thranduil! I want you to meet someone," Oropher appeared and put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder. Thranduil turned around and smiled.
"Yes, father," he replied and starting walking away. He turned his head and his eyes met Alaniel's. She blinked furiously when they disappeared into the crowd. That was King Oropher of Greenwood! And she was talking to the Prince!
"Oh, I'm stupid...." she sighed.
"Yes, we all know that already," Galion patted her shoulder sympathetically, coming up behind her.
"Stop teasing. Do you know who Thranduil is?"
"He is....Thranduil?" Galion frowned.
"The Prince of Greenwood!"
"He is?" Galion said incredulously. "Well, that's good if you marry him. You'll be a Lady. And that means I'll be a Lord." He smiled. "I saw you two talking a lot,"
"That doesn't mean I'll be marrying him! I don't'-I don't even like him!" She blushed and turned away.
"You are lying..." Galion said in a sing-song tone. She smacked him lightly on the forehead and angrily strode off. "You are lying," He repeated quietly and headed back to the tables as everyone else did. Gil-galad was about to announce the welcoming of all the Elves. Hopefully, it would not last a half an hour as it did during last year's festival...
To be continued...
********************************************************
Note: I know in "reality" that Elrond is about the same age as Thranduil, but here I'm just making him a couple hundred years older. And I know seven- year-olds don't normally sound as mature as I made them sound...but seven- year-old Elves magically are. ^^;
How was it? ^^ *points to review button*
To Dragon-of-the-north: :o) no worries. Searching for a meaning behind everything shows that you're intuitive. Which I must say is a hell of a lot better than the "OMG!!!11 LEGOLAS IS SOOOOOO SEXIIIII!!!11" reviews I've seen on other stories. I've never seen a reviewer like you before, and it's quite awesome. Oh, and for that "illegitimate son" part, I'm trying not to make Galadriel sound too perfect or goddess-like. It could be seen as her crude sense of humor, I suppose. And thank you very much! ^_^ You know how to make lowly writers like me feel happy.
To feanen: :o) Thank you!
To Roheryn: ^_^ I hope I can keep up with your expectations. It was your favorite chapter? I feel honored! :D aww, thank you! I try to make the characters more "realistic". Key word being "try".
To Lutris: :o) Thank you!! *gives you a cookie*