A/N – This is the first chapter with significant changes from my
version of this story. I have decided to a begin clueing people
in on Ilorin's purpose etc much earler than in my last version.
BTW if anyone wants to beta that would be lovely.
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The elder ones shall fade in sorrow
lost they will be forgotten
Risen are the ones that followed
- Fragment from I Lhathron (1)
Legolas walked steadily toward the palace. The thin crescent moon overhead did little to illuminate the inky darkness of the forest. It was growing cold for the mortal, and they all needed food. They had walked a considerable distance, and the woman had been showing signs of exhaustion for hours. She was obviously unable to go any faster, and probably could not go much further without help. A short distance behind, he heard muted sounds as the woman stumbled along the path, confirming his thoughts. Thankfully she did not object when Aduial reached for her arm.
Ilorin was exhausted, cold and her feet hurt. The male was leading at a moderate pace, but they had been walking for hours. She clutched the arm of the female immortal, grateful for the extra support and the gentle encouragement she voiced. Though Ilorin could not understand the meaning of the words being whispered by the immortal, their warmth and soothing quality assuaged her discomfort. Unaccustomed to the uneven terrain, many protruding tree roots and bone weary exhaustion, Ilorin found herself stumbling frequently.
"Legolas," began Aduial, "we must slow down. The woman cannot maintain this pace for much longer."
"I am aware of that Aduial, but the hour grows late and the she will take sick from the chill," answered Legolas, "I will carry her if necessary." Mortals could be so frail at times and he did not wish to risk her life before they could question her.
"She can survive the cold, but she must not be allowed to exhaust herself beyond what is necessary. The time immediately following travel by passage is critical," said Aduial.
Legolas slowed his pace and walked next to Aduial. "That is the manner of magic by which she appeared? A passage?"
"Yes. It is an ancient magic. Believed lost to Middle-earth. "
"Explain."
"I do not know the particulars of how it was done. Only that someone very powerful and probably very ancient, used magic to create a portal from her land to ours."
"Who? Why?"
"I do not know, Legolas." Aduial was grateful for the darkness that concealed her face, otherwise Legolas might have seen the half truth in her words.
"Why is this time critical? For her?" asked Legolas.
"Many who travel by passage do not survive the journey. The passage draws upon the life force of both the caster and the traveler. It is a very dangerous magic, not to be used frivolously."
In the darkness, Legolas frowned. Who brought that woman to Middle-earth? The only being he knew with the capability were the Ishtari. But, they had left Middle-earth centuries ago. Hadn't they?
Doubt crept into his mind as he reconsidered the decision to bring her to his father. Was she merely a strange, seemingly benign human lost in the woods or someone with sinister intent? He sensed no danger from her but these were unsettled times and Aduial said someone with powerful magic cast the passage. If not the Ishtari could it have been someone with nefarious intent? Legolas pointedly ignored the very small nagging thought that she might be connected to his own longing to return to the land of his birth. He quickened his pace again, walking slightly ahead of the Aduial and the woman.
Soon the shadow of the palace loomed in the distance beyond the dense trees. In a short time they would reach the grounds and King Thranduil. Legolas frowned again. He did not relish the prospect of a meeting with his father. Since his return to the forest, he had spent little time at the palace, or even within the borders of the city. Other than one very short courtesy visit to inform the palace of his presence, Legolas had not spoken to Thranduil at all. Shifting focus to the situation at hand, he listened to the progress of the two females behind him. The soft lilt of Aduial's voice traveled on the wind as she encouraged the woman to keep moving.
Ilorin felt a mix of gratitude and apprehension when the narrow path widened and they passed through a gap in the trees to emerge on the edge of a large clearing. They walked toward an immense but low building too poorly lit for Ilorin's tired eyes to distinguish details. They had finally reached their destination. Visions of rest and food competed with fears of imprisonment and further discomfort in her mind.
They entered the palace through a small, rarely used rear door. Legolas wanted to keep news of their presence to a minimum; the guards who silently watched their progress through the wood were probably already gossiping. No doubt the story would become more elaborate with each retelling.
Still holding the female immortal's arm, Ilorin used just enough of her remaining energy to stay on her feet, and observed their surrounding. Deep red carpeting lined the center of the halls where they walked, and metal sconces held candles that brightly illuminated the polished, stone walls. The deserted halls spoke of elegance and wealth.
After many twists and turns through the halls Ilorin was hopelessly lost. Eventually the male immortal led them to another small and rather nondescript door. Inside, much to Ilorin's relief, there was another elegant setting -- a small room lit softly by candles. The male gestured toward a sizable and elaborately carved wooden chair with a large green cushioned seat. Ilorin gratefully collapsed into the chair, her eyelids falling as she sank into the soft green cushion. Ilorin's eyes slowly closed on the sight of the two immortals whispering at one another. She hoped they were not planning something devious, but at that moment she was too exhausted to care as sleep overcame her.
OXOXOXOXOXO
Middle-earth was deep within the Fourth Age, yet the elves of the Woodland Realm remained. The sea-longing had never been strong among the Silvan elves, if indeed it stirred at all. So as the Third Age drew to a close and the other elves departed for the West, they tarried in Middle-earth still deeply attached to the forest of Eryn Lasgalen. But that forest was part of the mortal world, always changing through cycles of birth and death. Their king, Thranduil, had planned to lead his people to the Undying Lands eventually. Once the burden of change became to great for them to bare.
For some inexplicable reason, the shores of Aman were closed to the elves that had remained in Middle-earth. As the decades of the Fourth Age had waxed on, the call for the sea had become so faint that the Silvan elves no longer heard it. Now, three thousand years after Elessar ascended the throne of Gondor, even the Sindar of the realm no longer felt the urge for the sea and many fruitless voyages had shown the way could not be found without it.
Thranduil sat as he did most evenings, searching an ancient book on his lap for a passage, a phrase or even a word that would explain why the Valar had left them behind. Middle-earth had not fared well under the dominion of humankind, and the elves suffered a world that had fallen into chaos. The music of the world was growing ever more dissonant -- so much so that the remaining elves would no longer listen to the world beyond their borders. Small groups isolated themselves within the last remaining forests of Middle-earth, but Thranduil knew those places would not last forever; eventually the unraveling of the music would reach even them.
It was only in the solitude of his study that Thranduil gave free reign to those thoughts. Publicly he, like his subjects, simply ignored the actualities of life. They took empty solace in maintaining the semblance of elven culture from ages past. They stood as sentinels in the mortal world. Yet, when he looked deeply at his people, Thranduil saw death. Slow death. Each year the light within each elf burned ever so slightly dimmer. Their vitality was seeping away with the march of time, lost in an abyss of unacknowledged hopelessness.
A knock on the door interrupted Thranduil's musings. "Enter," he said looking up toward the door. As he expected, his son Legolas stood in the doorway. The guards had informed Thranduil hours before that he was heading toward the palace with Aduial and a strange mortal woman in tow. Regarding his son with a look of mild irritation, Thranduil waited for him to speak. He was curious to see what situation Legolas' attraction for mortals had embroiled him in.
Legolas briefly observed the confines of his father's study as he entered the room. The simple yet elegant furnishings complimented Thranduil perfectly. The walls were carved from solid marble polished until they reflected the dancing firelight. One entire wall was filled from floor to ceiling with the oldest and rarest books in the kingdom. In deference to Elvish aesthetics another wall was constructed of tall hinged windows which opened to the forest. Leaving the door slightly ajar, Legolas walked toward his father who sat before the light of the fire. He never looked more a king. Legolas briefly wondered how the mantle of royalty could sit so uneasily on his shoulders with Thranduil as his sire.
"Father," Legolas began in a tight voice, "As I am certain the guards have informed you, I bring a most unusual mortal from the wood."
"Yes," replied Thranduil in a cold tone calculated to bring instant obedience.
Legolas felt anger begin to simmer at Thranduil's stony reply. Refusing to cower, Legolas answered in an equally cold voice. "She is not an ordinary human of Middle-earth. Her appearance is quite different from the humans of our lands and she arrived by some sort of magic passage. Unfortunately, we do not share a language so her origins and purpose are a mystery. Aduial was witness to her arrival and swears there's no ill will from the woman."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he continued to regard his son. His own irritation grew in response to Legolas' reply. He and Legolas were never close, though for many ages they had maintained a civil relationship. But that had ended with the War of the Ring. At the time , creatures of shadow were still a great threat to the forest. Yet Legolas had chosen close relationships with mortals, essentially abandoning the realm during a time of great need. Thranduil had seen his son's actions as nothing less than irresponsible and insulting to the elves of Mirkwood. Now, millennia later he stood before him once again becoming entangled in the affairs of mortals, as Thranduil definitely considered the woman to be a mortal problem.
Legolas saw the building annoyance within his father's eyes. The conversation was not going well. Taking a calming breath, he changed tactics. "Father," he began, "Since my return I have been absent from the realm and perhaps I have been remiss in my duty. I see now that has angered you greatly. For that I am truly sorry, however I think we should put those issues aside. It is a matter of great importance that this woman appeared in our forest. Perhaps the Valar are at work here. I do not doubt that the magic which brought her here is some how connected to the disappearance-"
"You are wrong!" Thranduil abruptly interrupted Legolas and stood to look his son in the eye. "That woman is a mortal problem and their affairs are no longer our concern."
Legolas looked away from his father's eyes down toward the dancing flames of the fire. He had gone too far. His father and the other elves no longer considered the realm to be part of the same world as humans. They would rather allow themselves and all things elvish to fade like tarnished silver than face the depths of their denial. He suddenly felt the walls of the palace closing in, crushing the life from his spirit. I should never have come here. Whatever I have to say makes no difference.
"You were right in one thing," began Thranduil.
Legolas looked back to the impassive face of his father.
"I am angered by your absence from the realm. You have been remiss in your duties ever since your foolish return from the Undying Lands," Thranduil interlaced his finger behind his back and began silently pacing the stone floor.
"I am not a cruel ruler. We obviously cannot simply leave the woman at that border to fend for herself, particularly with winter approaching. She shall have accommodations within these halls. She must also learn one of our languages so that we may question her. You have until the spring."
Legolas felt his jaw drop, "I what?"
Thranduil turned on his heal to face Legolas, "You have until spring to teach her at least one of the languages of Middle-earth."
"But why must I do this?" asked Legolas incredulously.
"She will be our guest. But, we know nothing about her nor her purpose in our lands. She obviously needs a warden. Someone who will watch her every move and escort her at all times. Who better than the one responsible for bringing her to the palace? One who is admittedly remiss in his duty?"
Legolas stood speechless as Thranduil returned to his chair and calmly began reading his book again. His father had just manipulated him back into his role as Prince. A role that he not only intensely disliked and felt ill-suited to but had been absolved of upon his departure for Valinor. Momentarily, he thought to protest but looking at his Thranduil he realized refusal would mean a direct breech of authority. His father had chosen this issue to push him to a decision. Either he broke with his birth-land and his people or he obeyed this command.
Closing his mouth tightly, Legolas turned to leave.
His father's voice stopped him at the door. "And Legolas, I am holding you responsible for all her actions in our land."
Legolas bowed stiffly and closed the door behind him.
In the room adjacent to Thranduil's study, Aduial sat in a chair near the mortal woman. Her elvish ears had caught every word of the conversation between Legolas and Thranduil. As Legolas reentered the room, she schooled her feature into a mask of neutrality. Looking up at his grim expression she said, "I know this new burden weighs heavily upon you, I will shoulder this responsibility with you."
Though his features remained set in a grim expression, Legolas' nod conveyed gratitude and relief. He had returned to the forests of his birth in hopes of finding peace, believing that the well-worn paths and ancient trees would soothe him where the everlasting beauty of Aman could not. Unfortunately, the barbarity of Middle-earth in the hands of humanity and the slow decay of the Elvish race served had only served to compound the weariness of his spirit. Now he found himself entangled with his father's fading court and saddled with the responsibility of an odd woman.
Aduial's eyes misted with sadness as she watched the emotions flicker lightly across Legolas' face. She knew he did not wish to be part of courtly life. But, she had concluded that he had an important role to play in the events of the near future. He was one of the rare elves willing to acknowledge that something was deeply wrong in Middle-earth and amongst the remaining elves as well.
She had long heard the dissonance in the music though she sat silently among the others, no matter that she desired to loudly voice her doubt of the elves' chosen path of spiritual withdrawal from Middle-earth. She had watched and waited, the trust of which she was guardian stilled her tongue. Glancing at the sleeping woman in the chair near her, Aduial knew that the time to play her role was at hand.
"We should find suitable quarters for her," said Aduial gesturing toward the sleeping woman.
"Yes," said Legolas as he leaned down and scooped Ilorin into his arms.
"I know exactly where," said Aduial gesturing for Legolas to follow her. The three exited the room in search of quarters for Ilorin. Time, fate and the Valar had intertwined their paths into a delicate dance to the music of Arda.
(1) I Lhathron - one in a series of poems authored by an
unknown human seer.