A/N: Hi! This story was conceived after reading the Silmarillion and deciding that, for once, the Elf in Elf/Human relationships should be male. As such, the main characters in this story are original, with some existing characters supporting.
Disclaimer: Names and places you recognise belong to Tolkien, not mine, names you don't recognise belong to me, blah blah blah. Enjoy!
Spring, 2455 TA
Beleglor, an Elf of Mirkwood, was taking his daily walk around the grand halls in which his King, Thranduil, lived.
Beleglor was a minstrel, proficient with his voice and a harp, sometimes called in to the King's service, such was his ability. He lived alone in a small house, near the Elf-Path. He had not yet taken a wife, but he was not yet looking for one, either.
As he passed the front gate of the halls, he heard a strange sound. It was a cry, loud and anguished. Pressed by curiosity, he moved further to the source.
He found a bundle, wrapped in a blanket. He undid the blanket somewhat and peeped in. It was a crying baby.
He undid the blanket more, and found a note:
To the Elves of Mirkwood,
This is my daughter, whom I have named Ilirdin, which means 'hunter' in our tongue. I am forced to entrust her to your care. Her father was killed in a skirmish, while I must flee my ravaged homeland and fly elsewhere.
Both her father and I are of the Dúnedain, and I hope that you can teach her to be fair, noble and wise, and give her a better life than Rangers can provide.
Beleglor picked the child up and cradled her in his arms, whereupon she stopped crying immediately. She opened her eyes, of pure emerald, and looked at him. He was overcome in his heart by love, and he gently stroked the babe's cheek.
'Well, Ilirdin,' he said softly. 'You shall become my child. I name you Farothwen - hunter maiden.'
Disclaimer: Names and places you recognise belong to Tolkien, not mine, names you don't recognise belong to me, blah blah blah. Enjoy!
Spring, 2455 TA
Beleglor, an Elf of Mirkwood, was taking his daily walk around the grand halls in which his King, Thranduil, lived.
Beleglor was a minstrel, proficient with his voice and a harp, sometimes called in to the King's service, such was his ability. He lived alone in a small house, near the Elf-Path. He had not yet taken a wife, but he was not yet looking for one, either.
As he passed the front gate of the halls, he heard a strange sound. It was a cry, loud and anguished. Pressed by curiosity, he moved further to the source.
He found a bundle, wrapped in a blanket. He undid the blanket somewhat and peeped in. It was a crying baby.
He undid the blanket more, and found a note:
To the Elves of Mirkwood,
This is my daughter, whom I have named Ilirdin, which means 'hunter' in our tongue. I am forced to entrust her to your care. Her father was killed in a skirmish, while I must flee my ravaged homeland and fly elsewhere.
Both her father and I are of the Dúnedain, and I hope that you can teach her to be fair, noble and wise, and give her a better life than Rangers can provide.
Beleglor picked the child up and cradled her in his arms, whereupon she stopped crying immediately. She opened her eyes, of pure emerald, and looked at him. He was overcome in his heart by love, and he gently stroked the babe's cheek.
'Well, Ilirdin,' he said softly. 'You shall become my child. I name you Farothwen - hunter maiden.'