Author's Notes: I've taken a somewhat AU stance on the Laws and Customs of the Eldar. It seems a bit unrealistic to the modern reader to expect thousands of years of chastity from widowed or unmarried elves. Thus, I take conception to be the making of a marriage not otherwise bound.
The movie sets Legolas' age at 3,000+, but there is no particular reason for this. The only certainty is that he is over 500 years old at the time of the War of the Ring. He could be over 3,000 years old, but Michael L. Martinez makes an argument for a much younger Legolas, hypothesizing that he might have been born near the end of the Watchful Peace, in Third Age 2460. Thus, he would have been around 550 years old when he joined the Fellowship. For reasons better explained by Martinez in 'Speaking of Legolas' (www.suite101.com/article.cfm/tolkien/36517), and because it simplifies the story, I have set his birth c. 2460.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tolkien with the exception of original characters needed to fill out Legolas' family tree or move the story along. Translations of Elvish words (Sindarin, unless otherwise stated) and additional notes are found at the end of the chapter.
Thranduil
'There is too much of the mother in the son,' the King mused, wincing at this disloyalty to his lost wife. Guilt concerning that lady often assailed him, though he knew her fate had been decided before her birth, even before he and his father had crossed Hithaeglir to live among the Silvan folk. Thus, he had accepted Brónalm's unusual solution to his son's plight; though he could not have avoided the mistakes he had made with his wife, he would not repeat them with his son. [1]
He had taken to wife a strong and sensible daughter of the Falathrim in the early part of the Middle Years. Berinaeth had proved to be everything he and his father's people had needed. They had been fond of one another, and he still missed her wise counsel. Yet she had not been the one who could stir his love. Too late, he had found the fëa that perfectly matched his. In defiance of the Law, he had taken two wives; by the strange and sometimes cruel will of the Valar, he had buried two wives.
A single, clear droplet fell to his sleeve. Brushing his hand across his cheek, the elf found his skin wet, though he had not noticed his tears. With time, pain had faded to a dull ache. The King had a realm to lead, a family to love. Yet at moments unforeseen, the wound, never fully healed, throbbed as if it might cleave his heart in two. With the crystalline recall of a moment so poignant that time itself stopped, he woke anew to the grey morning of Tórasin's death. He saw again the unnatural stillness of his beloved, her corpse already fading; he met again the eyes of his sister-son, who found no words to tell what his search party had discovered.
The House of Lasgalen knew loss. Hardly a century of Thranduil's life had passed before his mother died at the hands of Caranthir. The war against Sauron exacted a terrible price upon his family and his people. As the Fading Years began, only his sister's children and second son remained of his father's busy household. Too few of his warriors returned from Mordor. His own grief did not so absorb Thranduil that he could not feel the anguish of the survivors among his people. He returned from the war as their King, and the well being of his folk permitted him little grace for his own sorrow.
A part of Oropher's heart had grieved unremittingly for his beloved wife, and he had known that he would pass from Ennor by death or by Sea when his longing for Anórieth grew to be more than he could bear. Thus, he had raised his son to succeed him, and his heir had never disappointed him. In temperament well suited to the vocation he inherited, Thranduil found that his duty to his people relieved him of dark thoughts and sorrow. His work became his pleasure and his refuge.
Though stubborn at times, he possessed an essentially kind and honorable nature. As the Firstborn faded, first into their memories and then into the Sea, Thranduil remained rooted to Ennor. He delighted in the sensual, a connoisseur of wine, feast and maiden. His great love for precious stones and other lovely things drew accusations of greed from his enemies, but he valued such baubles for their beauty rather than their worth.* If one found his appearance or his caverns more opulent than expected in the Wilderness, the fault lay in the observer rather than the observed. Few historians had been kind to the Silvan Elves and their Sindarin kings, rejecting the first as savages and ignoring the latter. [2]
The Silvan folk were hardly savages. They preferred plain thatched huts and high perches in the trees to the grand buildings of the Noldor, but did not lack for a culture of their own. To hear their voices lifted in song could make the coldest heart weep - Daeron, the storied minstrel of Thingol, numbered among their kindred who followed Denethor into Beleriand.* Nor were they unlettered,* for the runes Daeron made had been long in use by the Penni. [3, 4, 5]
Like his father, Thranduil had a deep love and respect for his people - they approached the world with a child-like curiosity, and so remained a merry folk, even in the Fading Years. They were not inclined to interrupt their play in the trees for hard work, and so trade had great importance to Thranduil's realm, more so since the shadow had fallen over the forest. Ties born of trade now proved essential to the defense of his realm.
For all he had sacrificed in the war had come to naught. The Dark Lord not only survived, but took their old citadel at Amon Lanc for his dwellings. Moving north before the blight that twisted the forest into an enemy, Thranduil settled under the eaves of Mirkwood along the Forest River. He built a palace under the earth, with an entrance protected by magic, and held tight to the only free lands of the once-great Eryn Galen.
Into this dark time, when his rule weighed heaviest upon the King, had come a Silvan maid to capture his heart. All reason fled, for no wisdom may conquer where love has gained the upper hand. He would listen neither to his son's warning that he must not make a wife of the maid, nor to Brónalm's fears that her Silvan heart could not be content in his caverns, nor even to Tórasin's sense that love might not overcome the vast difference in their circumstances. By patient courtship he overcame her objections, and she took his hand and the title of Dîs-e-gûr. With the advent of the Watchful Peace, many folk hoped their King would finally reap the happiness he had sowed in long service and devotion to his people. Still, one wish, that dearest to his heart, remained unfulfilled. [6]
That wish he kept for another child, for of all the losses he had suffered in the war, that of his eldest son had grieved him most. Yet by the sharing of his seed would Tórasin be bound to him, not merely as companion but as wife by the Laws of the Eldar. His desire proved greater than fear of the Valar; he knew only joy when his lady announced they would have a child in late winter. His happiness soon turned to sorrow. Tórasin withered in the dark, lifeless palace. The creatures of the wood, the trees, the light of the stars - these were as vital to the Silvan soul as water to drink and food to eat. Her long lying-in prior to the birth of their child wholly unhinged her. Her suffering was beyond Thranduil's Sindarin understanding - he could only hope that the baby's birth and coming of spring would heal her mind.
It was not to be, for greater powers were at work. The child came at last, but the mother gave up her life in his bearing. The King sank into a grief so terrible, Innolas worried his father would fade from existence. The child Thranduil had wanted so badly brought him no comfort then, and his second son feared for the tiny baby. Children had become a curiosity among the Firstborn. The Eldar knew that their purchase on Ennor was fading, while the Wood Elves, less concerned with fading (for their destiny, they claimed, was not that of the Eldar),* were nonetheless unnerved by the lengthening shadow over Mirkwood. They did not bear children in times of uncertainty. No wet-nurse could they find among their own people, and Innolas knew the child would not survive without a mother's milk. [7]
Knowing not where else to turn, the elf-lord decided to send his small brother to Rhosgobel. He hoped that Aiwendil would have some guidance - the Maia's knowledge of herbs surpassed even the Wise among the Silvan folk, and perhaps he could concoct something that would feed the child. [8]
"Go swiftly, Mitharas," Innolas urged, handing the baby to his cousin.
The baby gave a contented little sigh at his cousin's familiar smell as Mitharas settled him into a pouch slung around his neck. "As fast as the horses can travel," he promised. Súlvara gave a snort and tossed his head. The elven horse knew the gravity of the situation and was eager to be gone. "You say four days to Rhosgobel, Súlvara? I think that a little fast."
Innolas smiled. "I suspect he thinks of you and your party as naught but useless weight, and would as soon take the baby to Aiwendil himself."
"Aye, and Aiwendil most likely understands horse quite well. Yet the little one is not yet a rider, so you will have to suffer my weight, Súlvara." He patted the horse affectionately. "Ego aen men! Tirio anim ned eraid uiug." With that, the elf signaled to his party and the horses left at a fast trot. [9]
~~~
As for Tórasin, she does not wholly pass out of the history, but the remainder of her story belongs to another tale.
The movie sets Legolas' age at 3,000+, but there is no particular reason for this. The only certainty is that he is over 500 years old at the time of the War of the Ring. He could be over 3,000 years old, but Michael L. Martinez makes an argument for a much younger Legolas, hypothesizing that he might have been born near the end of the Watchful Peace, in Third Age 2460. Thus, he would have been around 550 years old when he joined the Fellowship. For reasons better explained by Martinez in 'Speaking of Legolas' (www.suite101.com/article.cfm/tolkien/36517), and because it simplifies the story, I have set his birth c. 2460.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tolkien with the exception of original characters needed to fill out Legolas' family tree or move the story along. Translations of Elvish words (Sindarin, unless otherwise stated) and additional notes are found at the end of the chapter.
He had taken to wife a strong and sensible daughter of the Falathrim in the early part of the Middle Years. Berinaeth had proved to be everything he and his father's people had needed. They had been fond of one another, and he still missed her wise counsel. Yet she had not been the one who could stir his love. Too late, he had found the fëa that perfectly matched his. In defiance of the Law, he had taken two wives; by the strange and sometimes cruel will of the Valar, he had buried two wives.
A single, clear droplet fell to his sleeve. Brushing his hand across his cheek, the elf found his skin wet, though he had not noticed his tears. With time, pain had faded to a dull ache. The King had a realm to lead, a family to love. Yet at moments unforeseen, the wound, never fully healed, throbbed as if it might cleave his heart in two. With the crystalline recall of a moment so poignant that time itself stopped, he woke anew to the grey morning of Tórasin's death. He saw again the unnatural stillness of his beloved, her corpse already fading; he met again the eyes of his sister-son, who found no words to tell what his search party had discovered.
The House of Lasgalen knew loss. Hardly a century of Thranduil's life had passed before his mother died at the hands of Caranthir. The war against Sauron exacted a terrible price upon his family and his people. As the Fading Years began, only his sister's children and second son remained of his father's busy household. Too few of his warriors returned from Mordor. His own grief did not so absorb Thranduil that he could not feel the anguish of the survivors among his people. He returned from the war as their King, and the well being of his folk permitted him little grace for his own sorrow.
A part of Oropher's heart had grieved unremittingly for his beloved wife, and he had known that he would pass from Ennor by death or by Sea when his longing for Anórieth grew to be more than he could bear. Thus, he had raised his son to succeed him, and his heir had never disappointed him. In temperament well suited to the vocation he inherited, Thranduil found that his duty to his people relieved him of dark thoughts and sorrow. His work became his pleasure and his refuge.
Though stubborn at times, he possessed an essentially kind and honorable nature. As the Firstborn faded, first into their memories and then into the Sea, Thranduil remained rooted to Ennor. He delighted in the sensual, a connoisseur of wine, feast and maiden. His great love for precious stones and other lovely things drew accusations of greed from his enemies, but he valued such baubles for their beauty rather than their worth.* If one found his appearance or his caverns more opulent than expected in the Wilderness, the fault lay in the observer rather than the observed. Few historians had been kind to the Silvan Elves and their Sindarin kings, rejecting the first as savages and ignoring the latter. [2]
The Silvan folk were hardly savages. They preferred plain thatched huts and high perches in the trees to the grand buildings of the Noldor, but did not lack for a culture of their own. To hear their voices lifted in song could make the coldest heart weep - Daeron, the storied minstrel of Thingol, numbered among their kindred who followed Denethor into Beleriand.* Nor were they unlettered,* for the runes Daeron made had been long in use by the Penni. [3, 4, 5]
Like his father, Thranduil had a deep love and respect for his people - they approached the world with a child-like curiosity, and so remained a merry folk, even in the Fading Years. They were not inclined to interrupt their play in the trees for hard work, and so trade had great importance to Thranduil's realm, more so since the shadow had fallen over the forest. Ties born of trade now proved essential to the defense of his realm.
For all he had sacrificed in the war had come to naught. The Dark Lord not only survived, but took their old citadel at Amon Lanc for his dwellings. Moving north before the blight that twisted the forest into an enemy, Thranduil settled under the eaves of Mirkwood along the Forest River. He built a palace under the earth, with an entrance protected by magic, and held tight to the only free lands of the once-great Eryn Galen.
Into this dark time, when his rule weighed heaviest upon the King, had come a Silvan maid to capture his heart. All reason fled, for no wisdom may conquer where love has gained the upper hand. He would listen neither to his son's warning that he must not make a wife of the maid, nor to Brónalm's fears that her Silvan heart could not be content in his caverns, nor even to Tórasin's sense that love might not overcome the vast difference in their circumstances. By patient courtship he overcame her objections, and she took his hand and the title of Dîs-e-gûr. With the advent of the Watchful Peace, many folk hoped their King would finally reap the happiness he had sowed in long service and devotion to his people. Still, one wish, that dearest to his heart, remained unfulfilled. [6]
That wish he kept for another child, for of all the losses he had suffered in the war, that of his eldest son had grieved him most. Yet by the sharing of his seed would Tórasin be bound to him, not merely as companion but as wife by the Laws of the Eldar. His desire proved greater than fear of the Valar; he knew only joy when his lady announced they would have a child in late winter. His happiness soon turned to sorrow. Tórasin withered in the dark, lifeless palace. The creatures of the wood, the trees, the light of the stars - these were as vital to the Silvan soul as water to drink and food to eat. Her long lying-in prior to the birth of their child wholly unhinged her. Her suffering was beyond Thranduil's Sindarin understanding - he could only hope that the baby's birth and coming of spring would heal her mind.
It was not to be, for greater powers were at work. The child came at last, but the mother gave up her life in his bearing. The King sank into a grief so terrible, Innolas worried his father would fade from existence. The child Thranduil had wanted so badly brought him no comfort then, and his second son feared for the tiny baby. Children had become a curiosity among the Firstborn. The Eldar knew that their purchase on Ennor was fading, while the Wood Elves, less concerned with fading (for their destiny, they claimed, was not that of the Eldar),* were nonetheless unnerved by the lengthening shadow over Mirkwood. They did not bear children in times of uncertainty. No wet-nurse could they find among their own people, and Innolas knew the child would not survive without a mother's milk. [7]
Knowing not where else to turn, the elf-lord decided to send his small brother to Rhosgobel. He hoped that Aiwendil would have some guidance - the Maia's knowledge of herbs surpassed even the Wise among the Silvan folk, and perhaps he could concoct something that would feed the child. [8]
"Go swiftly, Mitharas," Innolas urged, handing the baby to his cousin.
The baby gave a contented little sigh at his cousin's familiar smell as Mitharas settled him into a pouch slung around his neck. "As fast as the horses can travel," he promised. Súlvara gave a snort and tossed his head. The elven horse knew the gravity of the situation and was eager to be gone. "You say four days to Rhosgobel, Súlvara? I think that a little fast."
Innolas smiled. "I suspect he thinks of you and your party as naught but useless weight, and would as soon take the baby to Aiwendil himself."
"Aye, and Aiwendil most likely understands horse quite well. Yet the little one is not yet a rider, so you will have to suffer my weight, Súlvara." He patted the horse affectionately. "Ego aen men! Tirio anim ned eraid uiug." With that, the elf signaled to his party and the horses left at a fast trot. [9]
- [1] Hithaeglir
- Misty Mountains
- [2] 'he valued such baubles for their beauty rather than their worth'
- This idea belongs to T.A. Shippey: 'There is in the final chapters [of The Hobbit] a continuum of greed. Least reprehensible is the Elvenking's: he likes artefacts, but for their beauty, and is satisfied in the end with the emeralds of Girion.' (ref. T.A. Shippey, The Road to Middle-Earth, p 80 pub. Harper-Collins)
- [3] 'Daeron, the storied minstrel of Thingol, numbered among their kindred who followed Denethor into Beleriand'
- In fact, the Green Elves of Beleriand called themselves the Lindi, the Singers. Briefly, for those who have not read The Silmarillion: on the Great March of the elves from their birthplace to the shores of Beleriand, Lenwë left Olwë's host and settled in Greenwood the Great. Later Lenwë's son, Denethor, took some of those elves to Beleriand, and many ended up in Doriath. Among these were Daeron and the evil Saeros. In my little corner of the Tolkien world, Oropher became associated with the Green Elves when he lived in Doriath and brought some of them back to Greenwood with him around 1000 of the Second Age.
- [4] 'Nor were they unlettered'
- Another Tolkien contradiction - we are told in Unfinished Tales, 'The History of Galadriel and Celeborn' that the Silvan folk had no written language, but in The Treason of Isengard, Tolkien ties Daeron's runes to those of the Green Elves. (ref. Unfinished Tales, 'The History of Galadriel and Celeborn' p 270 pub. Ballantine/Del Rey; The Treason of Isengard, 'Appendix on Runes' p 460 pub. Houghton Mifflin)
- [5] Penni
- Silvan Elves (Nandorin) - lit. 'the people'; this was the name they used for themselves. (ref. The War of the Jewels, 'Quendi and Eldar' p 410 pub. Houghton Mifflin)
- [6] Dîs-e-gûr
- Bride of the heart
- [7] 'for their destiny, they claimed, was not that of the Eldar'
- It seems rather unfair that fading, a punishment of the rebellious Noldor, should apply equally to the innocent Sindar and Avari. The Sindar, perhaps, did not suffer from fading quite as the Noldor did - we know that Celeborn, Thranduil and Círdan outlasted the Noldor. As for the Avari, it is my own rather fanciful idea (though inspired by Tolkien's fays of the wood, found in Lost Tales), that they remained in Middle-Earth as wood sprites.
- [8] Aiwendil
- Radagast (Q)
- [9] "Ego aen men! Tirio anim ned eraid uiug."
- Let us be off! Watch for me in twelve days.