This is a story about an unknown identity that really existed during the Third Age. Now I know there are many and originality is very, very nonexistent, but what I was hoping for in this story was that it would seem quite plausible to the reader that there could've very well been such a character during Bilbo's journey's and the War of the Ring.
A quick word of explaination to all who have never heard of Dark-Elves or Moriquendi. I couldn't find very much about them in the Sillmarillion or the Lost Tales. Tolkien hadn't written very much about them, so for me, it was all a lot of guess work and imagination. If any have any suggestions or observations during the course of this work (which doubtless will take a long,long time) please e-mail me.
All things said and done, elves are peculiar creatures, yet so are humans, and dwarves, and hobbits, and wizards, and the list goes on forever. Yet they all have the bad apples, and the strange ones that really don't fit in with them or the culture they must live with.
Dark-elves are the strange ones of the elf-kind. There were few to begin with and none remain now to tell precisely what they were like. They were clever with metal and shared a great affinity with the dwarves that no other elf-kind would want, let alone wish for.
Many thought that dark-elves had vanished altogether, when none showed for the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, their theory became fact.
Or so they thought……
On the western edge of Mirkwood there dwelt Beorn, the Skin-changer. His was a simple life and he enjoyed making forays into the Misty Mountains to kill a goblin here and a Warg there. He was suspicious of anything out of the usual (if there was a usual in Wilderland), so the appearance of a bundle on his doorstep one morning startled him greatly. There were few things that could sneak up on Beorn and he felt very angry.
Picking up the poker next to the fire, Beorn reached out and jerked the blankets back. Peering up at him was a pair of dark green eyes that showed no fear and much interest. Beorn stared down at the tiny child and gaped, for he had never seen an elven child. As many elves as there were in Middle-Earth, they had all been born long before Beorn's time and over 1000 years ago.
Beorn picked up the baby and wondered where it had come from and why it was here at his front door. But this one did not seem as other elves, for it had black hair, dark green eyes, and the baby's skin was brown unlike the white porcelain of the wood-elves or High-elves.
What would he do with it? Beorn immediately decided that he could not take care of an elven child and there was nothing to do, but send one of his animals to the wood-elves telling them he had an elven babe. The child began to cry loudly, so Beorn took it inside against his better will and began to feed it honeyed milk. Soon afterwards the babe fell asleep.
Beorn walked outside and called one of his squirrels to him and explained the predicament and told it to ask Thranduil to take this child off his hands.
As he walked back inside his home, Beorn wondered what kind of elf this was and why it was here and why was it laid on his doorstep and where had the little tyke come from?
Thranduil stared down at the elven child with disgust. A Moriquendi, and right under his roof! What could the Valar have been thinking? Dark-elves were, as everyone knew, evil and wild with no light or purity within them.
"Take this, this THING into the Mountains of Mirkwood and leave it there. I cannot let any such creature under my roof with a clear conscience. And do not tell any of this!"
Being naturally cautious by nature, Thranduil had sent only his most trusted advisor and friend, Hanath, travel to Beorn's and take the child. Hanath had been shocked and frightened by what he found and brought the child post-haste to Thranduil and let none see the baby.
Now Hanath was not so sure about Thranduil's judgment, for it went against Hanath's character to let a helpless child starve or be eaten.
"My lord, you cannot do this thing!" the King frowned and Hanath added, "we cannot just let it die, for the Valar sent him to us with a reason. At least give him to the Lakemen and let one of their women take care of him."
Nodding, Thranduil said, "This I will let you do, but hear me out Hanath!" he stared steadily at his friend, "be sure to tell them to who and what he is. Lying would not be helpful to our alliance with the men of Esgaroth."
Hanath bowed and hurried out of the room to prepare his next journey. He passed Haldir in the hall and Haldir stopped him.
"I need to see the King. I am returning to Lothlorien immediately, for I have summons from Lady Galadriel and must leave."
Hanath grinned to himself and bowed to the emissary, "The King will be happy to see you. I will tell him you have arrived." He strode back into the room he had just exited grinning broadly. Hanath knew precisely why Haldir was leaving. Lady Lindwen had fallen in love with Haldir's brother Orophin and at the same time Prince Legolas had also introduced Dorwinion to the unsuspecting elf.
"Lord Haldir to see you, my lord." Bowing Hanath proceeded to walk out the door, but Thranduil stopped him.
"Perhaps you should stay a moment Hanath." He bowed again and sat down.
Haldir swallowed and Hanath could see his cheek muscles twitch with anger, "My lord, I have received a summons from the Lady of the Golden Wood and must return immediately. I am very sorry for…"
Thranduil interrupted, "No, I am very sorry Haldir for my son's behavior but Lady Lindwen is perfectly harmless and it might be a good match for our two kingdoms." Haldir opened his mouth, but Thranduil held up his hand. "If you must go, my servants will help you out of Mirkwood. But I have a favor to ask of you."
Hanath stared at his King with amazement, for he knew what Thranduil was about to ask.
"I have an elven child here who is not one of ours and I have no one who can take care of it…"
This time it was Haldir's turn to interrupt. "If you mean the dark-elf, you are badly mistaken if you think that the Lady Galadriel will allow such riff-raff into Lothlorien. It would be better if you got rid of it or sent it to Rivendell."
Thranduil sighed, "Well I suppose I could always send a messenger to Lotherlorien to request Galadriel's help, but that will mean you will have to stay here for a little longer."
Grinning, Hanath watched Haldir's face turn panicky at the thought. A moment of silence reigned as the Lorien elf went over his options. He could stay and let Orophin become engaged to a wood-elf and continue to be under the influence of that wild Legolas, or he could just take the baby to Galadriel and see what happened. The latter seemed the best conclusion, so Haldir accepted.
"It was a wise move my friend," Hanath chuckled as he and Haldir left the throne room, "who knows what Legolas could've gotten your brother to do while you waited. I heard them talking about something that sounded strangely like a trip to Esgaroth for the next shipment of wine." Light as air andbubbling as a brook, laughter rippled through the great halls of the palace.