Title: Legolas, the Dwarf
Author: Maeglin the Traitor
Rating: Currently, PG-13
Warning: Implied Slash L/G
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien. I write for no enrichment except my own entertainment.
Notice: To the Canon Police, I state clearly that this story is AU:
"We prefer bow and arrow to canon."
--Master Erestor of Rivendell
Author's notes: I thank The Magic Rat for her kind permission to use ideas introduced in her story The Last Homely House. May mead and laughter always be present in your life, Rattie!
Despite all current appearances, this is not a "Bad Thranduil" story. I love the elven king and would not do that to him!
*****
Chapter 2 - Past Darkness
"So, you are awake at last?" Gloín's voice was gruffer than he meant it to be. The young elf looked at him with something like fear, and he found himself reaching his hand out to stroke back that impossible golden hair from Legolas' face. "You needed to sleep, Legolas. I did not mean to accuse you. It is only that I am used to a very stubborn dwarf as my child, not an elf such as you. You are safe. I promise."
"I should not be here." Legolas' voice was cracked and dry from the long days of sleep, and there was confusion in his words.
"Do you mean you should be dead?" The elf nodded, and Gloín felt anger rise again in him as it had during all the days he had watched by this bedside. To gain control of this anger, he poured the sweet apple juice Legolas' friend had brought into a cup and lifted Legolas from his pillows. Holding him, Gloín held the cup to his lips. "Drink this. Brethil brought you this juice. He says you like it very much, so drink."
Legolas drank and thought of his childhood friend. The apples tasted of Brethil. He grew them in his orchard that he had found and rescued from its lack of care, In his new press, the culled apples became the sweetest juice. He had tended the orchards in Eryn Lasgalen with his father and uncle before he followed his friend to Ithilien. Legolas had always loved his apple juice more than the finest wine. What would become of Brethil and the other elves now? He no longer had power to protect them, and there were orders.
"They are still here? The elves?"
"Of course, they are here! Where else would they be? This is their home." Gloín saw the tears fill the elf's eyes, and his patience came to an end even though he was careful now to keep his voice gentle. An elf as a son was certainly more trying than Gimli. He would not have thought that possible. "I want to know what was in those letters, son."
"You call me son? It was not a dream?" The thin arms came around his neck, and Gloín found himself holding Legolas close, stroking the gold hair silently and feeling hot tears trickle against his neck. Perhaps, an elf was not so much trouble after all thought Gloín. He could get used to it. He just had to remember not to swear at this child the way he did at Gimli. He could see that that might cause problems. Not swearing at a son would take some adjustments. Gloín smiled into the puzzled eyes watching him.
"Do you not mean a nightmare? What elf would want this old goat of a dwarf as his papa?"
"I would. . .Papa." The simple words so hesitantly spoken went straight into Gloín's heart. From this moment, the elf was forever his child.
"I always suspected elves had no sense, and you have just proved it. Well, son, your papa has questions now, and he wants answers. But, first he wants to know if you are sure that he loves you?"
Despite his fear at the questions, Legolas felt warmed by the strength of the old dwarf. He looked at him and did not doubt that the old one loved him. Gimli had told him that in their families dwarves did not lie. In the darkness that still lingered with him, the elf took comfort that he was now part of that family. He was a dwarf.
"I believe that, Papa. It makes my heart glad." The elf brought the still strong hand to his lips and softly kissed it.
"What was in the letters, Legolas? I can think of nothing else that would have made you do such a thing. Decide to die? Do you know what that did to Gimli and me?" "I am sorry, Papa. I was just so unhappy, and I thought it would be easier for Gimli if I were not here to complicate his life. I did not even know then that you loved me."
"Just shows you how foolish elves can be, does it not? Gimli is happiest when his life is complicated by you. Get used to that fact, young one. As for me, if you are too stupid to realize that I love you, I shall just have to tell you that fact often. You do not die on us, elf. Do you understand that? I will drag you back by your pretty hair if you ever try this again, and then you will know what it is like to see me angry. I make Gimli seem like a babbling brook when I roar."
For the first time, Legolas smiled. Gently, he touched the white beard of his new father and marveled at its softness. "I will obey you, Papa. I will not die. Not if you love me. That is worth any pain, even life."
To his very great surprise, Gloín found himself bending over to kiss the elf's cheek. He found he liked the warm smile he received for the small gesture, and there were no other dwarves around to see him after all. To bring that soft look to the eyes of his new son, the old dwarf decided he would have done just the same even if Durin himself had been present.
"Now, young one, I want answers." His rough hand was gentle as it held the elf's chin. "No, do not turn your face away from me. Whatever has happened to cause you to throw away your life is something your father must know. It is my job to protect my young ones."
"Do you have the letters I carried when I. . ." Legolas seemed uncomfortable, and Gloín quickly got up to go to the table in the small room the elf and Gimli shared.
"We put them here. Brethil found them when he went back for your cape and knives. We did not read them, young one." Gloín was fairly sure that elves would need to be reassured that dwarves would respect their privacy. He handed Legolas the small packet of letters that Brethil had brought back. In his heart, Gloín was pleased at the look of shock on Legolas' face at his words.
"I would never think that you had, Papa! You should know that. Gimli's honor is too high for such a thing, and he is your son, so I know yours is higher still for you raised him." Legolas fingered the one letter that had been opened and handed it to Gloín. "It is from my father's scribe. It is written in common. The scribe says that my father decrees that I am unworthy to be addressed in Sindarin. He did not even think it worth his time to write to me himself when he tore my heart from my body. I cannot say the words. Read them, Papa, and let Gimli know. I cannot tell him myself. I am too ashamed."
Gloín felt the elf's slender fingers toying with his own sturdy hand, as if Legolas did not know what to do with his own hands as he waited for the letter to be read.
The fury that rose in the dwarf's heart at the cold words he read was almost more than he could contain. Thranduil, the scribe had written, wished to inform Legolas that he was an abomination and no longer his son. It said that he was banished from his home for the rest of his immortal life on pain of death for his unnatural alliance with a dwarf. His mere presence on Arda sickened the king the scribe had written and the king wished to have no further communication about his former son until someone brought him the welcome news of Legolas' death. It ended by ordering all the elves of the colony back to Eryn Lasgalen on pain of their own banishment if they continued their association with Legolas.
"For the words of this scum, you were ready to die? Thranduil is a stubborn fool, Legolas. He always has been and age does not improve him it seems."
"He is. . .was my father. I cannot stop loving him just because he has turned his face from me. Papa, it hurts! Gimli is fine and good and honorable, and I love him. That I love makes me an abomination and filth to my father? My father and my king wishes me to die."
"So, you thought you would just oblige him, like a good and dutiful elven son? He does not deserve your death, Legolas. Gimli deserves your life more than Thranduil merits your death! Did you not think of that before you almost broke Gimli's heart?"
"I could not think, Papa! I was too unhappy. It felt as if my heart was breaking with the grief. Gimli deserves better than me. Even my own people will not have me now. Brethil and the others will return to Eryn Lasgalen."
"I do not think we are ready to do that, Legolas."
Neither Gloín nor Legolas had heard the quiet entrance of the second elf. Brethil came over and sat on the bed next to his friend. His kind eyes smiled as always at Legolas, although his heart was angry. Thranduil had also sent a letter to the elders of the Ithilien elves.
"Brethil, the king has ordered it. You must obey."
"He is no longer our king, Legolas. We serve you, our prince, and only you. We have met together, and this is our common will. We will remain in Ithilien with you and Gimli. I was asked to bring you our word and our promise. Your people here love you, Legolas. You labor with us and rejoice with us as Thranduil has never done. We are loyal to you, my lord."
"Brethil, I have no power to protect you. A life of exile will be a hard one. I do not know what the other elven realms will do."
"I cannot speak for Imladris, but I have had word from my cousin Celeborn. Legolas, he has sent you his love and his continued friendship. He bade me tell you this. He also sends his respect to Gimli and bids me tell you that he will speak to Thranduil when the time is ripe.
"Adar will never change his mind, but I am grateful for Lord Celeborn's friendship. Brethil, your family is still in Eryn Lasgalen."
"My father sends word for me to follow my heart and my head. He knows I will not abandon our friendship when it is most necessary to you. He says in the spring he and mother will come to visit our colony and meet Gimli. Thranduil does not dare forbid that it seems! As for protection, perhaps if we learn to drink ale the dwarves will not realize that we are elves should we have need of aid?"
Brethil grinned at Legolas and Gloín and quite suddenly all three began to laugh at the idea of the ale-drinking elves of Ithilien. Legolas laughed until he was breathless and his sides hurt, and it felt so good. He had Brethil and the ale-drinking elves and his papa and Gimli.
Author: Maeglin the Traitor
Rating: Currently, PG-13
Warning: Implied Slash L/G
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien. I write for no enrichment except my own entertainment.
Notice: To the Canon Police, I state clearly that this story is AU:
"We prefer bow and arrow to canon."
--Master Erestor of Rivendell
Author's notes: I thank The Magic Rat for her kind permission to use ideas introduced in her story The Last Homely House. May mead and laughter always be present in your life, Rattie!
Despite all current appearances, this is not a "Bad Thranduil" story. I love the elven king and would not do that to him!
*****
Chapter 2 - Past Darkness
"So, you are awake at last?" Gloín's voice was gruffer than he meant it to be. The young elf looked at him with something like fear, and he found himself reaching his hand out to stroke back that impossible golden hair from Legolas' face. "You needed to sleep, Legolas. I did not mean to accuse you. It is only that I am used to a very stubborn dwarf as my child, not an elf such as you. You are safe. I promise."
"I should not be here." Legolas' voice was cracked and dry from the long days of sleep, and there was confusion in his words.
"Do you mean you should be dead?" The elf nodded, and Gloín felt anger rise again in him as it had during all the days he had watched by this bedside. To gain control of this anger, he poured the sweet apple juice Legolas' friend had brought into a cup and lifted Legolas from his pillows. Holding him, Gloín held the cup to his lips. "Drink this. Brethil brought you this juice. He says you like it very much, so drink."
Legolas drank and thought of his childhood friend. The apples tasted of Brethil. He grew them in his orchard that he had found and rescued from its lack of care, In his new press, the culled apples became the sweetest juice. He had tended the orchards in Eryn Lasgalen with his father and uncle before he followed his friend to Ithilien. Legolas had always loved his apple juice more than the finest wine. What would become of Brethil and the other elves now? He no longer had power to protect them, and there were orders.
"They are still here? The elves?"
"Of course, they are here! Where else would they be? This is their home." Gloín saw the tears fill the elf's eyes, and his patience came to an end even though he was careful now to keep his voice gentle. An elf as a son was certainly more trying than Gimli. He would not have thought that possible. "I want to know what was in those letters, son."
"You call me son? It was not a dream?" The thin arms came around his neck, and Gloín found himself holding Legolas close, stroking the gold hair silently and feeling hot tears trickle against his neck. Perhaps, an elf was not so much trouble after all thought Gloín. He could get used to it. He just had to remember not to swear at this child the way he did at Gimli. He could see that that might cause problems. Not swearing at a son would take some adjustments. Gloín smiled into the puzzled eyes watching him.
"Do you not mean a nightmare? What elf would want this old goat of a dwarf as his papa?"
"I would. . .Papa." The simple words so hesitantly spoken went straight into Gloín's heart. From this moment, the elf was forever his child.
"I always suspected elves had no sense, and you have just proved it. Well, son, your papa has questions now, and he wants answers. But, first he wants to know if you are sure that he loves you?"
Despite his fear at the questions, Legolas felt warmed by the strength of the old dwarf. He looked at him and did not doubt that the old one loved him. Gimli had told him that in their families dwarves did not lie. In the darkness that still lingered with him, the elf took comfort that he was now part of that family. He was a dwarf.
"I believe that, Papa. It makes my heart glad." The elf brought the still strong hand to his lips and softly kissed it.
"What was in the letters, Legolas? I can think of nothing else that would have made you do such a thing. Decide to die? Do you know what that did to Gimli and me?" "I am sorry, Papa. I was just so unhappy, and I thought it would be easier for Gimli if I were not here to complicate his life. I did not even know then that you loved me."
"Just shows you how foolish elves can be, does it not? Gimli is happiest when his life is complicated by you. Get used to that fact, young one. As for me, if you are too stupid to realize that I love you, I shall just have to tell you that fact often. You do not die on us, elf. Do you understand that? I will drag you back by your pretty hair if you ever try this again, and then you will know what it is like to see me angry. I make Gimli seem like a babbling brook when I roar."
For the first time, Legolas smiled. Gently, he touched the white beard of his new father and marveled at its softness. "I will obey you, Papa. I will not die. Not if you love me. That is worth any pain, even life."
To his very great surprise, Gloín found himself bending over to kiss the elf's cheek. He found he liked the warm smile he received for the small gesture, and there were no other dwarves around to see him after all. To bring that soft look to the eyes of his new son, the old dwarf decided he would have done just the same even if Durin himself had been present.
"Now, young one, I want answers." His rough hand was gentle as it held the elf's chin. "No, do not turn your face away from me. Whatever has happened to cause you to throw away your life is something your father must know. It is my job to protect my young ones."
"Do you have the letters I carried when I. . ." Legolas seemed uncomfortable, and Gloín quickly got up to go to the table in the small room the elf and Gimli shared.
"We put them here. Brethil found them when he went back for your cape and knives. We did not read them, young one." Gloín was fairly sure that elves would need to be reassured that dwarves would respect their privacy. He handed Legolas the small packet of letters that Brethil had brought back. In his heart, Gloín was pleased at the look of shock on Legolas' face at his words.
"I would never think that you had, Papa! You should know that. Gimli's honor is too high for such a thing, and he is your son, so I know yours is higher still for you raised him." Legolas fingered the one letter that had been opened and handed it to Gloín. "It is from my father's scribe. It is written in common. The scribe says that my father decrees that I am unworthy to be addressed in Sindarin. He did not even think it worth his time to write to me himself when he tore my heart from my body. I cannot say the words. Read them, Papa, and let Gimli know. I cannot tell him myself. I am too ashamed."
Gloín felt the elf's slender fingers toying with his own sturdy hand, as if Legolas did not know what to do with his own hands as he waited for the letter to be read.
The fury that rose in the dwarf's heart at the cold words he read was almost more than he could contain. Thranduil, the scribe had written, wished to inform Legolas that he was an abomination and no longer his son. It said that he was banished from his home for the rest of his immortal life on pain of death for his unnatural alliance with a dwarf. His mere presence on Arda sickened the king the scribe had written and the king wished to have no further communication about his former son until someone brought him the welcome news of Legolas' death. It ended by ordering all the elves of the colony back to Eryn Lasgalen on pain of their own banishment if they continued their association with Legolas.
"For the words of this scum, you were ready to die? Thranduil is a stubborn fool, Legolas. He always has been and age does not improve him it seems."
"He is. . .was my father. I cannot stop loving him just because he has turned his face from me. Papa, it hurts! Gimli is fine and good and honorable, and I love him. That I love makes me an abomination and filth to my father? My father and my king wishes me to die."
"So, you thought you would just oblige him, like a good and dutiful elven son? He does not deserve your death, Legolas. Gimli deserves your life more than Thranduil merits your death! Did you not think of that before you almost broke Gimli's heart?"
"I could not think, Papa! I was too unhappy. It felt as if my heart was breaking with the grief. Gimli deserves better than me. Even my own people will not have me now. Brethil and the others will return to Eryn Lasgalen."
"I do not think we are ready to do that, Legolas."
Neither Gloín nor Legolas had heard the quiet entrance of the second elf. Brethil came over and sat on the bed next to his friend. His kind eyes smiled as always at Legolas, although his heart was angry. Thranduil had also sent a letter to the elders of the Ithilien elves.
"Brethil, the king has ordered it. You must obey."
"He is no longer our king, Legolas. We serve you, our prince, and only you. We have met together, and this is our common will. We will remain in Ithilien with you and Gimli. I was asked to bring you our word and our promise. Your people here love you, Legolas. You labor with us and rejoice with us as Thranduil has never done. We are loyal to you, my lord."
"Brethil, I have no power to protect you. A life of exile will be a hard one. I do not know what the other elven realms will do."
"I cannot speak for Imladris, but I have had word from my cousin Celeborn. Legolas, he has sent you his love and his continued friendship. He bade me tell you this. He also sends his respect to Gimli and bids me tell you that he will speak to Thranduil when the time is ripe.
"Adar will never change his mind, but I am grateful for Lord Celeborn's friendship. Brethil, your family is still in Eryn Lasgalen."
"My father sends word for me to follow my heart and my head. He knows I will not abandon our friendship when it is most necessary to you. He says in the spring he and mother will come to visit our colony and meet Gimli. Thranduil does not dare forbid that it seems! As for protection, perhaps if we learn to drink ale the dwarves will not realize that we are elves should we have need of aid?"
Brethil grinned at Legolas and Gloín and quite suddenly all three began to laugh at the idea of the ale-drinking elves of Ithilien. Legolas laughed until he was breathless and his sides hurt, and it felt so good. He had Brethil and the ale-drinking elves and his papa and Gimli.