Um, okay, I should probably say something at this point. This will be slashy in the future. What I've written so far has no severe slash but the rating will get a bit higher in later chapters. Not much higher, though. So far I think it's just scraped a PG-13? But yeah, if slash isn't your idea of a good time, I'm really sorry I didn't mention it earlier.
Another thing! In case you're...really dumb I think is the phrasing, any people/places you recognise in here belong to the Tolkien estate. This is just a bit of fun and I'm making no money from it.
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Thranduil had heard his youngest son speaking in elvish with another long before they had been aware of him. His son's voice was the same as it had always been. Light, cultured, musical. The second voice was deeper and quieter, not one that Thranduil could immediately place. That alone worried him. Before the two could see him, Legolas became aware of his father's presence and called out happily to him. Thranduil smiled indulgently at his youngest child's tone.
"Ada, you must come now!" Legolas was saying, delight in his voice. Thranduil stepped forward, surprise freezing his features.
"Legolas, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded, staring at the man who stood by his son's side like a friend, like an equal.
"Father, he saved me. I was out walking and there were Orcs, filthy things. I was ready to shoot but Estel here saw a movement to my side and warned me. If not for him, I doubt that I would have escaped unharmed."
"My son, this is grave news. How came the orcs to be within our borders?"
"My liege," Aragorn said, bowing his head. "I fear that they followed me. A party of Orcs attacked me but I managed to escape. I ran blindly and I crossed your borders inadvertently. Please forgive my mistake."
Thranduil stared disbelievingly at the man before him who spoke Thranduil's own tongue with such ease.
"Where did you learn our tongue?" he demanded, ignoring Legolas' startled looks. The younger elf had expected his father to receive Estel with thanks and praise, not with this stern, sharp questioning.
"I was raised in Rivendell by Lord Elrond and..." Aragorn began. Thranduil's delicate elven features suddenly flared into anger. With a clap of his hands, two elves appeared behind Aragorn, moving quickly to separate him from Legolas.
"I warned Elrond time and time again that no good would come of you, human," Thranduil said coldly. "He was blinded, as ever, by his desire to do right by all of Middle Earth. Here, we have learned the dangers of kinship with men. Here in Mirkwood we do right by our own people. These warriors will escort you to the Northern borders of my land. I advise you strongly not to fight with them. If you are found within my land again, I shall not be so lenient."
Legolas stared disbelievingly at his father while the two warriors took hold of Aragorn's arms with a gentle grip that concealed strength, like steel wrapped in velvet. He met Legolas' bewildered eyes for a moment and then the elves turned him with a gentle force away from the King and Prince.
Thranduil watched in silence as Aragorn was led away and then turned, walking away from the scene, leaving his son to stare after alternately him and Aragorn. His mind made up, Legolas whirled and chased after his father.
"What are you doing?"
"No one may cross our borders uninvited, my son. You know that as well as I," Thranduil said tightly.
"He saved my life, Ada! He may be a man, but he is not as we believe all men to be. He is strong and noble. He risked his life to help me fight."
"Ah, Greenleaf," Thranduil said sadly. "What am I to do with you? You may not be my heir but you should still listen to affairs of state."
"If I were ever invited to your councils then maybe I should be able to," Legolas said petulantly.
"And your childhood habit of listening at the door?" Thranduil asked. "Whatever became of that?"
"Ada," Legolas said flatly, refusing to be swayed. "Tell me what this has to do with Estel. Tell me why you treated my rescuer in such a fashion."
"His name is not Estel, except to the elves of Rivendell," Thranduil said. "His given name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He is heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor."
For a moment, Legolas was taken aback. The strong, noble, intelligent man he had fought with was descended from that...that beast. That foul man who had encouraged the War of the Ring, in which many of Mirkwood's finest warriors had died ignoble deaths, and then rendered it all useless by taking the ring for himself, seduced by its power. Legolas could not believe it, but he knew his father would not lie, not about something so grave as this.
"Father, I did not know," Legolas said sadly. "He said his name was Estel and... Father, what does it matter?" the prince asked suddenly. "He is not Isildur, he is Aragorn. The two are separated by time and I can see no similarities between Estel and the stories told of Isildur's lust for power."
"My son, Isildur's heirs are no more welcome in this kingdom than he himself would be if he were to walk again."
"But father..."
"That is my final word on the matter!" Thranduil said sharply.
There was silence behind him for a moment and then Legolas turned and ran, his hair flying behind him, not sure where he was heading, other than away. Away from his father and the stupid narrow-minded rules born of suspicion and grudges held for too long. He considered heading for his chambers and then changed his mind, turning into the most heavily wooded area of the forest and springing agilely up into the highest branches of a tree.
Thranduil turned to watch his son leave, sadness glimmering in the depths of his eyes. He believed with all of his heart that the heir of Isildur would carry in his veins the same tainted blood; the same weakness that had so enraged and endangered Middle Earth years before. Whether or not he had fought at his son's side, this Aragorn would doubtless cause harm to his kingdom given the chance. Mirkwood was beautiful, the most beautiful land Thranduil had ever beheld, and when men see beauty on such a scale, their minds contained room for only two possible reactions. Destroy or possess. Thranduil had long ago resolved that neither of those things would happen to his kingdom although in his heart, he would rather see Mirkwood burned to the ground, its beauty lost forever, than see it controlled by some king of men. That would never happen, he reminded himself. The intrusion by Aragorn was a mistake that had not happened for some hundred years and would never be repeated again, if Thranduil had any say in the matter. Legolas would be angry with him for some time. The young elf was passionate and stubborn, more like his father than either of them would ever admit. The King knew that his son's wrath would pass though, and then he would explain his motivations for dismissing this Aragorn, this so called 'hope' from his kingdom. There could be no equal companionship between elves and men and there had been no attempt at it since the last alliance. It would stay that way, at least in Mirkwood while Thranduil ruled. He was a kind and proud elf whose love for his people drove him entirely. It was his motivation and his reason to be. They must be protected from the greed of men.
The elven warriors escorting Aragorn did not speak at all although Aragorn got the sense that they were preternaturally aware of their surroundings and of one another. He understood now why Elrond had never allowed him to accompany the Rivendell elves on their visits to Mirkwood. It was obvious that the King had a deep-rooted loathing for mankind and paired with Legolas' comment about the white tree, Aragorn believed he knew why. He wondered briefly if Legolas had known of his father's feelings before he introduced them. He rejected the idea. The prince had seemed genuinely shocked at his father's reaction. Legolas had wanted him there and he had not been party to his father's decision. The thought gave Aragorn a measure of comfort as he trudged onward, his footsteps echoing in his own mind while the elven warriors moved silently, reminding him brutally of the differences between their races. Perhaps Thranduil was right. Perhaps men and elves were not meant to associate with one another. The brief life of men, a mere flash to the elven eye could never hope to compare with the immortal beauty of the elves, could never hope to do more than tarnish it.
High in the tree, nestled in the fork of two branches, Legolas listened with all his elven sensitivity to the world around him. He could hear soft elven voices raised in song and the sounds of the forest. Far away, he could hear human footsteps. Aragon. Estel. He could also hear the anger and sense of injustice within himself and listened to it closely. He knew what he would do. Springing down from the tree, he made his way to his chambers and retrieved a travelling cloak. Wrapping it about him, he raised the hood, hiding his blond hair and the delicate braids that were partly for convenience and partly to proclaim his status as one of the royal family of Mirkwood.
Slipping back into the forest, he moved silently among the trees, listening carefully. Two elven voices came to his ears, their speech quiet and slow. Quickly, Legolas slipped behind a tree, his cloak blending with the shadows cast until he was almost invisible. He stood silent. He didn't breathe, he didn't move, he didn't think until the two elves passed him. There was no doubt in his mind. The elves that had just passed him were strong and built for battle, their slender limbs deadly. They were the two that Aragorn had left with. Once they were gone, Legolas turned the way they had come from, making his way north. As he walked, the trees sang to him in their quiet voices and internally, he thanked them, taking courage from their song.
Across the northern border, Aragorn stood alone, wondering what he should do now. There was no doubt in his mind that his horse was dead. Orcs were not connoisseurs and any meat they found was palatable in their foul minds. He made up his mind. He would make for Bree. The people there were not fond of rangers but held them in a grudging respect. Aragorn did not doubt that he could find a horse there and start his journeying anew. He would start tonight. There was no doubt in his mind that he was not welcome in or near Mirkwood and he had no intention of incurring Thranduil's wrath twice in his life.
Another thing! In case you're...really dumb I think is the phrasing, any people/places you recognise in here belong to the Tolkien estate. This is just a bit of fun and I'm making no money from it.
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Thranduil had heard his youngest son speaking in elvish with another long before they had been aware of him. His son's voice was the same as it had always been. Light, cultured, musical. The second voice was deeper and quieter, not one that Thranduil could immediately place. That alone worried him. Before the two could see him, Legolas became aware of his father's presence and called out happily to him. Thranduil smiled indulgently at his youngest child's tone.
"Ada, you must come now!" Legolas was saying, delight in his voice. Thranduil stepped forward, surprise freezing his features.
"Legolas, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded, staring at the man who stood by his son's side like a friend, like an equal.
"Father, he saved me. I was out walking and there were Orcs, filthy things. I was ready to shoot but Estel here saw a movement to my side and warned me. If not for him, I doubt that I would have escaped unharmed."
"My son, this is grave news. How came the orcs to be within our borders?"
"My liege," Aragorn said, bowing his head. "I fear that they followed me. A party of Orcs attacked me but I managed to escape. I ran blindly and I crossed your borders inadvertently. Please forgive my mistake."
Thranduil stared disbelievingly at the man before him who spoke Thranduil's own tongue with such ease.
"Where did you learn our tongue?" he demanded, ignoring Legolas' startled looks. The younger elf had expected his father to receive Estel with thanks and praise, not with this stern, sharp questioning.
"I was raised in Rivendell by Lord Elrond and..." Aragorn began. Thranduil's delicate elven features suddenly flared into anger. With a clap of his hands, two elves appeared behind Aragorn, moving quickly to separate him from Legolas.
"I warned Elrond time and time again that no good would come of you, human," Thranduil said coldly. "He was blinded, as ever, by his desire to do right by all of Middle Earth. Here, we have learned the dangers of kinship with men. Here in Mirkwood we do right by our own people. These warriors will escort you to the Northern borders of my land. I advise you strongly not to fight with them. If you are found within my land again, I shall not be so lenient."
Legolas stared disbelievingly at his father while the two warriors took hold of Aragorn's arms with a gentle grip that concealed strength, like steel wrapped in velvet. He met Legolas' bewildered eyes for a moment and then the elves turned him with a gentle force away from the King and Prince.
Thranduil watched in silence as Aragorn was led away and then turned, walking away from the scene, leaving his son to stare after alternately him and Aragorn. His mind made up, Legolas whirled and chased after his father.
"What are you doing?"
"No one may cross our borders uninvited, my son. You know that as well as I," Thranduil said tightly.
"He saved my life, Ada! He may be a man, but he is not as we believe all men to be. He is strong and noble. He risked his life to help me fight."
"Ah, Greenleaf," Thranduil said sadly. "What am I to do with you? You may not be my heir but you should still listen to affairs of state."
"If I were ever invited to your councils then maybe I should be able to," Legolas said petulantly.
"And your childhood habit of listening at the door?" Thranduil asked. "Whatever became of that?"
"Ada," Legolas said flatly, refusing to be swayed. "Tell me what this has to do with Estel. Tell me why you treated my rescuer in such a fashion."
"His name is not Estel, except to the elves of Rivendell," Thranduil said. "His given name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He is heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor."
For a moment, Legolas was taken aback. The strong, noble, intelligent man he had fought with was descended from that...that beast. That foul man who had encouraged the War of the Ring, in which many of Mirkwood's finest warriors had died ignoble deaths, and then rendered it all useless by taking the ring for himself, seduced by its power. Legolas could not believe it, but he knew his father would not lie, not about something so grave as this.
"Father, I did not know," Legolas said sadly. "He said his name was Estel and... Father, what does it matter?" the prince asked suddenly. "He is not Isildur, he is Aragorn. The two are separated by time and I can see no similarities between Estel and the stories told of Isildur's lust for power."
"My son, Isildur's heirs are no more welcome in this kingdom than he himself would be if he were to walk again."
"But father..."
"That is my final word on the matter!" Thranduil said sharply.
There was silence behind him for a moment and then Legolas turned and ran, his hair flying behind him, not sure where he was heading, other than away. Away from his father and the stupid narrow-minded rules born of suspicion and grudges held for too long. He considered heading for his chambers and then changed his mind, turning into the most heavily wooded area of the forest and springing agilely up into the highest branches of a tree.
Thranduil turned to watch his son leave, sadness glimmering in the depths of his eyes. He believed with all of his heart that the heir of Isildur would carry in his veins the same tainted blood; the same weakness that had so enraged and endangered Middle Earth years before. Whether or not he had fought at his son's side, this Aragorn would doubtless cause harm to his kingdom given the chance. Mirkwood was beautiful, the most beautiful land Thranduil had ever beheld, and when men see beauty on such a scale, their minds contained room for only two possible reactions. Destroy or possess. Thranduil had long ago resolved that neither of those things would happen to his kingdom although in his heart, he would rather see Mirkwood burned to the ground, its beauty lost forever, than see it controlled by some king of men. That would never happen, he reminded himself. The intrusion by Aragorn was a mistake that had not happened for some hundred years and would never be repeated again, if Thranduil had any say in the matter. Legolas would be angry with him for some time. The young elf was passionate and stubborn, more like his father than either of them would ever admit. The King knew that his son's wrath would pass though, and then he would explain his motivations for dismissing this Aragorn, this so called 'hope' from his kingdom. There could be no equal companionship between elves and men and there had been no attempt at it since the last alliance. It would stay that way, at least in Mirkwood while Thranduil ruled. He was a kind and proud elf whose love for his people drove him entirely. It was his motivation and his reason to be. They must be protected from the greed of men.
The elven warriors escorting Aragorn did not speak at all although Aragorn got the sense that they were preternaturally aware of their surroundings and of one another. He understood now why Elrond had never allowed him to accompany the Rivendell elves on their visits to Mirkwood. It was obvious that the King had a deep-rooted loathing for mankind and paired with Legolas' comment about the white tree, Aragorn believed he knew why. He wondered briefly if Legolas had known of his father's feelings before he introduced them. He rejected the idea. The prince had seemed genuinely shocked at his father's reaction. Legolas had wanted him there and he had not been party to his father's decision. The thought gave Aragorn a measure of comfort as he trudged onward, his footsteps echoing in his own mind while the elven warriors moved silently, reminding him brutally of the differences between their races. Perhaps Thranduil was right. Perhaps men and elves were not meant to associate with one another. The brief life of men, a mere flash to the elven eye could never hope to compare with the immortal beauty of the elves, could never hope to do more than tarnish it.
High in the tree, nestled in the fork of two branches, Legolas listened with all his elven sensitivity to the world around him. He could hear soft elven voices raised in song and the sounds of the forest. Far away, he could hear human footsteps. Aragon. Estel. He could also hear the anger and sense of injustice within himself and listened to it closely. He knew what he would do. Springing down from the tree, he made his way to his chambers and retrieved a travelling cloak. Wrapping it about him, he raised the hood, hiding his blond hair and the delicate braids that were partly for convenience and partly to proclaim his status as one of the royal family of Mirkwood.
Slipping back into the forest, he moved silently among the trees, listening carefully. Two elven voices came to his ears, their speech quiet and slow. Quickly, Legolas slipped behind a tree, his cloak blending with the shadows cast until he was almost invisible. He stood silent. He didn't breathe, he didn't move, he didn't think until the two elves passed him. There was no doubt in his mind. The elves that had just passed him were strong and built for battle, their slender limbs deadly. They were the two that Aragorn had left with. Once they were gone, Legolas turned the way they had come from, making his way north. As he walked, the trees sang to him in their quiet voices and internally, he thanked them, taking courage from their song.
Across the northern border, Aragorn stood alone, wondering what he should do now. There was no doubt in his mind that his horse was dead. Orcs were not connoisseurs and any meat they found was palatable in their foul minds. He made up his mind. He would make for Bree. The people there were not fond of rangers but held them in a grudging respect. Aragorn did not doubt that he could find a horse there and start his journeying anew. He would start tonight. There was no doubt in his mind that he was not welcome in or near Mirkwood and he had no intention of incurring Thranduil's wrath twice in his life.