a/n: This story is a slightly AU version of the end of the Silmarillion and of LOTR. I move my two principal characters, Legolas Cúthalion and Lúthien Tinúviel, around quite a bit, but since Tolkien never actually specified where they were during this period, I am taking creative license. Lego and Lia are both named after heroes of the First Age, which you will hear about later. I used Lúthien's name (no, this is not the one who married Beren) because I wanted them both to seem young, like they had a lot to live up to, but to also give the names some weight and age, and to make their positions seem more realistic. Okay, onward ho!
The Heir of Fëanor
Chapter One
My name is Lúthien, daughter of Maglor, son of Fëanor, son of Finwe.
I have jet hair that I prefer to wear long, though it is typically in a braid to keep it away from my face. My eyes are, according to those with minimal bardic talent, like two icy amethysts that stare through one as if one were made of glass.
As I said. Minimal bardic talent. Anyone who would waste their time (even if they have an eternity of it) writing paeans to the beauty of one who has no interest in ever loving them instead of putting their talents to better use is so conceited that they cannot be helped.
I am a lady. So they tell me. They address me as the Lady Lúthien, no matter how many times I implore them to call me Lia.
When this story began, I was seven hundred and fifty-one years of age. I was forced to wear long, unpractical gowns more often than I would have liked. I loved the sword, and trained many more hours than my cousin would have liked.
I am the Heir of Fëanor.
It was the bane of my life.
My cousin, Celebrimbor o Eregion, was the son of Cúrufin, who was a younger son of Fëanor than my father, Maglor. Hence, despite the fact that I had no interest whatsoever in any title, I was apparently the next in line for the throne of the Noldorin.
This was also true in spite of the fact that my cousin's counselors often complained about my sex. They held that a female was incapable of ruling an entire people. I directed them to my cousin Galadriel, greatest of elven women. They ran in the opposite direction.
So to spite those aforementioned advisors I used my title, though I had no intention of ever becoming Queen. Ever. If ever Ereinion Gil-Galad, the great High King of the Eldar of the West, would ever have passed to Mandos, I would have abdicated in favor of Celebrimbor. I was no Queen, nor did I believe that I could I ever become one. I spent most of my time on the back of a horse, not sitting beside Cele in council.
My story began on a cool autumn day in the year1378 of the Second Age of Middle Earth. My chier could probably remember the exact day, but I've forgotten. I was not yet in the habit of keeping a record of my days at that time. Unfortunately for my current ambitions as an archivist, I did not pick up this habit until several millennia past when my story begins. Oh, well. One learns much in hindsight.
But I digress. As I said, it was a cool autumn day. I was sparring in the courtyard of the armory with the Captain of the Guard in Ost-In-Edhel, Arantar. At that time we were perhaps equally matched, for what I lacked in experience I made up for with speed and reflex.
Our spar was going well when of a sudden he tripped me. Unprepared for the move, for my mind had been wandering in my youthful confidence, I, embarrassingly, fell flat on my back with Arantar's sword at my throat. The experienced campaigner grinned down at me.
"Never let your guard down, Lia," he admonished. He was one of the few that addressed me informally, being as he had taught me everything I knew about warfare. He was a Vanyarin elf who had remained following the War of the Jewels, and had trained under Eonwe himself.
I smiled respectfully, nodding my head. "You are right, of course, goron nin."
He glanced up at the entrance way. "I believe we shall finish for today," he commented. "You are tiring, and company has arrived." With a wink, he helped me to my feet, bowed to Celebrimbor, who had entered with a strange elf, and strode away.
I turned to my cousin, who was more a father to me than any I have ever known.
"Aure vaer, Cele. Do you need something?" I asked, eyeing his companion, a tall, blond, handsome creature with a solemn expression.
"Anar vaer, elar," he greeted me. He seemed slightly uncomfortable. "May I present Legolas Cúthalion of the Cassiline Brotherhood."
The handsome blond elf bowed, crossing his arms in a formal show of obeisance. He met my eyes, and I was shocked at the bright, icy blue color of his own. They were very beautiful… and then I registered the second half of Cele's introduction.
I stared. No wonder he appeared to be so dour. The Cassilines were notoriously uptight and boring. Why would Cele hire a Cassiline, though? He had no need of one, so that only left…
"NO!"
Feanor- eldest son of Finwe; the name means literally "spirit of fire," remembered as the greatest of the Noldor, or High Elves
Finwe- first king of the Noldor
Eregion- Hollin, a land south of Rivendell and north of Dunland, just west of the Misty mountains, bordering Moria
Curufin- fifth son of Feanor, father of Celebrimbor, not very nice
Mandos- lord of the deceased, his halls are the destination of the elves that die and await rebirth
chier- a word of Dennis L. McKiernan's sylvan tongue that means "love" (I'm using his Sylva for the most part as the tongue of the wood elves)
Ereinion Gil-Galad- "scion of kings" "starlight", son of Fingon, highking of the elves in the Second Age
Ost-In-Edhel- "city of the elves", capital city of Eregion
Arantar- "noble king"
Eonwe- herald of Manwe, lord of the Valar,according to legend the greatest warriorin Arda or Valinor
Vanyar- the highest elves, beloved of the Valar; few live in Middle Earth, if any at all
Aur vaer- good morning
Anar vaer- good day
elar- Sylva for niece/nephew, a pet name of Cele's for Lia