Author's Note:
Avardelothien, if you are reading this note right now, please read this story until the last chapter that I post up. You do want to see you and sweet little Dee make a… pair, don't you?! *smirks*
Thanks Morauko and dbzchiksrule (Finlos) for all the reviews!
Fëaruin Urulókë
The Tale of Fëagurth
Part 3: Surprise Plan
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Legolas shed tears all night, his cries echoing throughout Lothlórien, and all that heard it mourned for him. Though unknown to him, a fair distance away in the cold lands of Mordor rang a cry born of more pain than his cries, echoing from a secret overshadowed darkness. A mortal lady cried out in pain beneath the hands of the wraiths cloaked in black, and she whimpered in fear, feeling the torture settled upon her take its toll.
"Please," she sobbed, as the wraiths prepared to smite her again. "Have mercy…"
"Umrien," the cloaked wraiths hissed as they struck her, and the cries abruptly ceased. "Umrien en lye… Morauko…"
* * * * *
=FIVE YEARS LATER=
In the year that Fëaruin turned fifteen, five years after the tragedy of Finlos and Legolas and the mysterious cries of the maiden that rang from Mordor, King Thranduil of the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood walked in the gardens of his land, taking in the greatness of the forests. He replayed in his mind over and over again how he would break the special news to his daughter Avardelothien Fëanna, younger sister of Legolas. He was most of all afraid of what her reaction would be- maybe sorrow, maybe anger… but least likely- although possible- joy.
When Thranduil decided he was ready, he summoned Avardelothien, asking a servant to fetch her. It was when she arrived before him that he realized how lucky he was to have such a beautiful daughter. Golden-brown was her hair, hanging to her waist, and light blue were her eyes, with a face that was flawless and had no trace of a blemish. Still in her youth was she, more specifically the age of seventeen hundred and eighty- which is still young for an Elf, the Human equivalent for the early twenties- but in her face she appeared wise, her eyes unwavering, and appeared well past her actual age in terms of wisdom.
"You summoned me, Father?" she asked softly.
"Yes, Fëanna," Thranduil paced nervously, clearing his throat. "Listen to me very carefully, Avardelothien. I have something important to tell you."
"What is it… Father?" Avardelothien asked, worry draining through her veins now. She rarely saw her father act so solemn, and she realized that whatever it was that was plaguing his mind had to be what made him so unusually doubtful.
"Avardelothien, I have received tidings from Gondor, which is under the rule of King Eärnil," Thranduil began. "Eärnil's son, the Crown Prince Eärnur has a daughter by blood who I'm sure you've heard of, Fëaruin Urulókë the Fire-Dragon of Gondor, and a stepson, Ninrusco, who is not of his blood."
"Meaning…"
"…Meaning that if Eärnil were to pass away, Eärnur would be King, his daughter would be heir, and his stepson merely a Prince."
"Go on…" Avardelothien drawled, not understanding why her father had summoned her here to tell her something she did not need to know by life and death.
Thranduil hesitantly continued. "You know how that is similar, only slightly different, in our situation? Fëaruin will be heir, and Ninrusco will be merely a prince. Legolas here is heir, and you will be merely a princess."
"What are you saying?" Avardelothien demanded.
"I… I have arranged with Gondor for you to… marry… Ninrusco."
"You WHAT?!" Avardelothien yelled, and suddenly fell to the ground.
* * * * *
"You WHAT?!" Ninrusco yelled, and suddenly fell to the ground. Fëaruin and Menellómë laughed, and each held out a hand, helping him up.
"Forgive me, Ninrusco…" Eärnur cringed, expecting that reaction. "King Thranduil and I have actually planned this for several years now. It is that when my father passes away that both of you will not be heir to the throne, and also we believe that this will tighten the friendship between Mirkwood and Gondor. Crown Prince Legolas of Mirkwood may be well known… but his sister Avardelothien is known to only few, as for some time Thranduil had hidden her beauty in reserve for only you."
"How could you do this to me, Father?" Ninrusco cried, genuinely dismayed. "I cannot believe you also agree to this, Mother! You cannot be more cruel if you threw me into a pit of spikes than if you arrange a marriage for me. I desire to marry solely for love, and if I die without ever falling in love, then may I die unmarried!"
"Do not say such a thing!" Ellasil scolded. "You do not even know the Princess Avardelothien, Ninrusco. We did not set a date, and so we did not say that you must be married before you make friends with her. Never curse yourself in such a way, for the curse will follow you to the hour of your death!"
"So what if it does? I care not," Ninrusco retorted furiously. "What if I do not like her? What then? I will grow to loathe her, and I will grow to loathe you for forcing me into such a position and believe me, I know neither one of us desires that."
Ellasil flinched at such bold words, and sighed. "Do this for the future of our lands, my slender fox, and for your father. You would do so, I know this, if you genuinely loved him… for this is what he desires. Please, my son? We ask nothing more right now than for you to make good friends with Avardelothien first, and if it does not work out, we promise to see what we can do."
Ninrusco sighed in defeat, for he genuinely loved his stepfather, and did not want to upset him simply by denying a request. "…Very well, Mother."
"Very good," Eärnur smiled, pleased. "Menellómë will accompany you to Mirkwood, for Avardelothien has requested Fëaruin's company in the hope of making friends."
"Me?" Fëaruin beamed at the words. "An Elven Princess has requested MY company in the hope of making friends? Have I strayed into a dream?"
"Urulókë will accompany me?" Ninrusco groaned in despair. Seeing the smirk on Fëaruin's face, he smiled. "She will only be to me a pest and attempt to be a match-maker! Why is Menellómë coming also?"
Five years had swiftly passed since Menellómë first came into the lives of the family of Fëaruin, and few aspects of her had changed. Ninrusco and Menellómë both grew taller, although Menellómë grew curiously taller than an average Hobbit, and the shape of their faces more mature and attractive. Menellómë was approximately fifteen like Fëaruin, none could be sure, which was still a child for a Hobbit. But she was very beautiful and, unlike other Hobbits, she had grown her unusually straight hair and kept it in a bun on the back, a velvet sash always tied around it. Ninrusco, as a Mortal, was doomed with facial hair- which he desperately attempted to knife off every morning. His wavy red hair, hanging below his shoulders, never changed.
Fëaruin, from her youth, changed very little also. Her brown-red hair still remained, in fact grown longer to the breast like her mother, and it still shone like fire in the sun. She had grown much taller and sometimes still wore a black or maroon cloak and hood, and she had trained very hard in fighting arts beneath the supervision of her brother, which made her skills only a little behind his, which she was subtly proud of. Her fiery heart and love of war still remained, as did the unusual conjunction that she also had a gentle side, a weakness and love of people and nature. And it was this love that caused her to bite her lip as Ninrusco irritably called her a pest.
"To keep Fëaruin on the journey, of course," Ellasil grinned naughtily. "I know very well that you would just die if Urulókë only had you to talk to."
Fëaruin and Menellómë burst into peals of laughter, which made Ninrusco glare at them and storm away with a twitching eye. As they went to bed that night all three had only one thing on their minds before they fell asleep; meeting the Elven Princess Avardelothien, and making friends with she, the Flower of the Heavens.
To be continued…