Bloodlines

Chapter Summary

In this chapter, the gwinig gets a name, Legolas listens to a story, and Thranduil breaks an ancient artifact!

Chapter Notes

Y'all are going to hate me with this chapter. If you know something of the Silmarillion, it won't be too horrible, but if you only know the movies, you might get a bit confused. For that reason, I'm adding some character names to this note as well as the normal "this is what this Sindarin/Elvish word means". Again, I apologize. This is necessary for much, much later in the story.

* mellontew - pen pals

* adar/ada - father/dad

* gwinig - little one/baby

* ellon/ellyn - male elf/elves

* Rhimlath - the original name for Orophin, Haldir's brother (yes, the Marchwarden from Lothlórien). I'm borrowing it because it's an actual Tolkien name that ended up not being used.

* Imlondess - it means "Lady of the Flowering Valley" in Sindarin, I think. I made it up but I'm still 100% beginner at Sindarin so feel free to correct.

* Solchbar - the village Legolas found the gwinig in. It means "House of the root vegetable" in Sindarin

* Nerdanel - Fëanor's wife.

* dúlin - nightingale

* Ecthelion of Gondolin - Contemporary and friend of Glorfindel. Lord of the House of the Fountain. Seriously, up there in the heroes of the first age.

If I missed any that aren't explained in the story itself, let me know in the comments!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 3: Bloodlines

The two internal palace guards placed on either side of the doors let the prince into the elvenking's apartments without Legolas needing to moderate his stride. As he approached, they opened the ornate doors and closed them again once the prince was through. The outer halls and chambers of his father's apartments were overly ornamented; these were meant to impress emissaries or other guests to the Woodland Realm. A stately chamber for sitting, a vibrant chamber for dining; each had complex carvings and richly embroidered tapestries. Those chambers were also hardly ever used and were kept closed until a delegation arrived.

Rather, Thranduil preferred the soft woods and simple linens of his own rooms to the back of the apartments. Here, though the three main chambers he used were large, they were fairly unadorned compared to the rooms at the front of the apartments. The floor in the main sitting and dining area was of beech wood – in remembrance of Thranduil's father – and the walls were mostly only hallowed out of the surrounding rock. The small bit of decoration consisted of curtains or a corner which was tiled and a small fountain poured out making its way down to a tiny pond. Surrounding the titled area were plants of great variety, from vines which were growing up the walls to lovely forget-me-nots and the wonderful smelling rosemary.

Legolas walked to the set up of a table no bigger than the length of his arm, square, which already had the plates set upon it. Galion stood over it, pouring mulled wine into stoneware goblets. Thranduil was just passed him, near the fireplace, his back to the prince. However, his son noticed the bouncing movement of his father's arms and the slightest hint of a smile on Galion's lips. The elvenking must still have the babe.

"Galion," Legolas said warmly in greeting.

The butler bowed to the prince when he finished pouring the heated wine. "My lord Legolas," Galion acknowledged. "Is there anything else you require?" the venerable old butler asked.

Legolas looked at the table and noticed a small stand to the side of his father's usual chair. There he beheld a clay pot with a thin spout for the baby's bottle and a stoneware pitcher presumably filled with warmed milk. An old rag lay by, thrown to the stand haphazardly. Smiling, Legolas shook his head. "No, my thanks, Galion," he informed the butler.

"Then I will bring the meal at half past," Galion informed the two royals before taking his leave.

Legolas watched the ellon go before turning and making his way to his father. Thranduil was softly talking to the gwinig in his arms. The elvenking moved ever so slightly so he could peer over his shoulder at his grown elfling. "She recently had her evening meal. I suspect she may fall asleep soon," Thranduil informed his son.

Legolas shook his head. "She does not sleep until the hour is late, about when the guard would take the first shift of the night," he stated. Getting her to sleep and to stay asleep had been an issue. The gwinig's inquisitive eyes wished to behold all she could until her eyes would stay open no more.

Standing behind his father now and slightly to the side so he may also gain a glimpse of the babe, Legolas asked, "She is a descendant of Fëanor, is she not?"

Thranduil closed his eyes as if in pain but gave an affirmation with a nod of head. The elvenking had wished to at least hold this discussion until after the evening meal. However, he also knew his son's patience level was already stretched thin from this afternoon. At the very least, he could give the short version of how the house of Fëanor came to live in a distant corner of the Greenwood.

"She is a descendant of Fëanor through his son Amrod," Thranduil lamented. "She is also a relation of ours through my father's brother," he continued in a braver voice as he turned to his son. The prince appeared shocked at the news as he had not known that any of the kin of that line survived beyond the first age. "My father's brother, Rhimlath, had a daughter he named Imlondess," Thranduil informed his son, faltering as he recalled Imlondess in her distress when they made their way across the Misty Mountains when Beleriand fell. He could still picture her on her hands and knees, pleading with Oropher to allow her and her son to join them for she had nothing left.

Carefully, the elvenking handed the gwinig to his son, knowing he must continue but not wishing for either the child or his child to see his pain. Legolas took the babe without question, enraptured and shocked at his father's telling for he knew well his bloodlines. With the gwinig safely in his son's arms, Thranduil turned and placed a hand upon the mantle, staring deeply into the fire.

"It is Imlondess who married Amrod," the elvenking whispered. "They had a son, Carandol," he continued at a whisper. Lost in thought, Thranduil tried, and failed to keep his pain in check. He remembered the Sack of Doriath far too well despite the centuries passed. He was an elfling himself then. The blood and the hröa of far too many coated the walls of the palace he called home in those days. Many were still in mourning for his kinsman, King Thingol, as the King perished only three solar years before, leading Melian to abandon them.

He also remembered only thirty years later when he and his father had received word that most of those that had taken refuge in the Havens of Sirion were slain. The pain of the violence and death of those days threatened to overwhelm him. Clutching the mantle, the elvenking recalled that, at least, in those days, he had his father. His father who stood tall and protected as many of possible against those that would wish them dead. Thranduil wanted to be as mighty to Legolas as the elvenking recalled his father to be in those days. Calling on what inner strength he had, he continued. His son needed to know so this history.

"Imlondess followed my father over the Misty Mountains after the War of Wrath," he breathed, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. Legolas, holding the gwinig – who was babbling quite contentedly despite the heaviness in the chamber- place his free arm on his father's.

Thranduil turned his head slightly only to give his son the slightest of smiles in thanks. His beloved Lessig gave him the strength he needed to continue. "Adar-nin did not know it until we nearly completed the journey to the crest of the pass. She pled for the life of her son who was too alike in appearance to his father's kin to deny who he was. Being she was his brother's daughter, he found he could not send her out and back to ruin," the elvenking began, his voice softening towards the end.

Turning to his son and the gwinig, Thranduil gently lifted his hand, only to give it to the elfling to play with. "He swore that he would protect her and her line if she forsook her rank and that her son would never take up the Oath of his father's father."

Legolas and Thranduil were quite for a while, only the sounds of the crackling fire and the gwinig's gibberish permeated the chamber walls. The prince wished not to cause his father more pain but questions he had. In need of answers, he asked, "How did they come to live in Solchbar?"

At that, Thranduil gave only the slightest of noises to which it may be called a smirk and moved to get his now, unfortunately lukewarm goblet of mulled wine. He sipped it and grimaced, placing it back down on the table as he spoke. "I asked them to live as far from the western woods as possible. It is apparent that Nerdanel's gene for red hair never left their blood."

Looking at the tiny gwinig, Legolas quite agreed. Thranduil moved back over to his son and the elfling. "I was…afraid. I didn't want Celeborn or Galadriel to come across any of the line. I am unsure of what they may do upon finding any of the House of Fëanor still stands," the elvenking admitted.

Grimacing, Legolas admit he agreed. Although he knew the Lady and Lord of the Golden Woods well, and he thought Galadriel might be reasoned with, his great great uncle may not be. Though he did not believe either would hurt an elfling, he could easily see brother of his father's father being far harsher in any dealings with the woodland realm because of whom they harbored.

"What will become of her?" he questioned again, this time more of himself than his father.

Striding back to stand before his son, Thranduil delicately pulled back some of the blanket wrapped near the babe's head to smile down at her. "She is our kin. Both through my father's brother and through the sister of your mother's mother," he informed his on. The elvenking this time did smirk upon hearing his son's intake of breath. "Her mother," Thranduil stated as he indicated the small babe in Legolas' arm, "Was Glorindis, Lady Miluiel's daughter."

It was what his father didn't say that made Legolas realize how tied they were in both blood and within the traitor's conspiracy. Lady Miluiel, whom Beinion murdered, was a cousin of the prince's mother.

Thranduil continued while Legolas still contemplated, "She will stay with us."

Once fed on a delicious meal of a hearty stew with side dishes of cheeses and brined vegetables, both ellyn got to the business of deciding a name for the gwinig. The thought being that, even if a name for the child was recorded in the archives of the palace, they could not present her as the daughter of the village chief Sarmo and his wife Glorindis. There were still too many unknowns, too many possible traitors in their mist.

"We are not naming her Solchaearwen!" Thranduil angrily stated in exasperation at his son. Legolas' grin only grew.

"I believe she likes it!" he answered, getting a sleepy smile from the gwinig still within his arms.

"She will not like it when she is older. We are not calling her a carrot!"

Legolas chuckled. He thought it befitting given her hair, but his father wanted to give the babe a proper name. Since they could not name her after any of her kin, as Thranduil had with Legolas, the two ellyn had been jovially battling it out over all the elleth names they could think of.

The elvenking sighed and moved to his son. "Oh, give me her," he said before taking the gwinig from Legolas. The prince smiled as he watched all frustration melt from his father's face while he held the babe. The elfling was now fighting against sleep and failing. The world around her held too much interest to fall victim to the Master of Dreams.

"Laukiendess could be her name for it where I found here," Legolas supplied but his voice held too much mischief to be serious.

"No," Thranduil smirked. Gazing at the tiny creature, who yawned as she snuggled into his arms, he began to think of another name. One that would honor her line as both a descendent of Galadhon and of her Silvan blood. "You said you found her in a large telian rooftop garden?" the elvenking questioned his son.

As his father turned to softly pace with the gwinig, Legolas leaned forward in his old chair. It was just at the point where it may be getting too old. He is pretty sure he has had this one for three hundred years. It may be well to ask for another in replacement. "Yes, in a vegetable sack within a tool basket," he informed his father with a hint of laughter to his voice. Despite the devastation around them at the time, he found it hard not to smile at the memory of a tiny, chubby arm reaching out from the sackcloth.

"A telian – a tree platform- at the very edge of the Greenwood," Thranduil murmured as he watched the gwinig fall to sleep. The Great Greenwood of old- the old forest. Forest! That was it. For Legolas seemed fairly convinced that only he knew of whom the child belonged to in name, for he had not recognized Glorindis. His son's once cousin and the prince met but a few times over the many centuries as the Lady Miluiel stayed away from court due to her marriage to a Silvan smith. Her husband was badly injured in an accident five centuries passed and begged to sail to see if in Valinor there might be some respite from his injuries. Thranduil knew far too well the pain the smith suffered and gladly wrote to Círdan to prepare for the Silvan whom Thranduil honored.

"Tauriel," Thranduil breathed. The elfling opened her eyes slightly and made a slight noise before scrunching up tighter and turning towards the elvenking to sleep. Legolas stood upon hearing the name roll from his father's tongue. Looking up at his son, Thranduil smiled. "Tauriel, her name will be Tauriel," the elvenking more questioned than proclaimed.

Legolas moved to tuck himself at his father's side and nodded. "Tauriel," the prince murmured in agreement as he now too gazed at the thankfully sleeping little one. As she lay half upon her side, her large Silvan ears were all the more apparent and nearly hid her Sinda and Noldo blood. Perhaps that was for the best for this Daughter of the forest.

Once the gwinig was safely placed in a cradle in Legolas' chambers – where Galion managed to produce such from neither the elvenking nor the prince questioned – Legolas brought out the embroidery he found in the village chief's telian. The silver chest that lay with it had been brought to the King's apartments earlier in the day. Thranduil was studying the chest when Legolas reappeared from his adjoining apartments.

"Ada?" the prince called to his father.

The elvenking turned slightly to stand before his son, beckoning his grown elfling over and eyeing the bit of luminescent silk in his child's hands. "These are the items?" the king asked as he gestured to both the silver chest and the silk bound in the prince's hands.

Legolas nodded as he approached the table and laid the silk and linen embroidery out for his father to see. As the elvenking came to view the piece, Legolas took a step back so that his father might have more room. "It was hidden in the flet's floors, beneath the chest," the prince stated.

Thranduil's long fingers ghosted over the names written here. Some he knew, a few he did not. Ailinóne- the daughter of Ecthelion of Gondolin- married his cousin Carandol. How that fateful meeting occurred or when, the elvenking knew not. He wondered if Glorfindel was aware of what became of his friend's daughter.

The bloodlines were all of the highest pedigree. Noldor and Sindar blood in near equal amounts ran through the gwinig's veins. And yet, thank the Valar, it was her mother's father's ears that gave way to the tiniest hint of Silvan blood she possessed. They might be able to hide her, keep her as a mere Silvan child and not the royal treasure she truly was.

Still, simply knowing what bloodlines she did have, Thranduil could not deny them for one was his very own, no matter how distant. The elvenking and his son would keep the child, as a ward of the king. He could not let any other raise her. The explanation to the populace would be simple enough – the child is the only survivor of a massacre, King Thranduil took pity on the gwinig and would raise her in place of her parents. Little more would need to be said.

Of course, there was the massacre, the kinslaying, itself that would need to be dealt with but that is something Thranduil would deal with later. He was already formulating a plan to cover for the child.

"Only your eyes have seen this, yes?" he questioned his son.

"Yes, ada," Legolas began. "I did not tarry upon realizing what it held."

Sagely, Thranduil nodded. He glanced up at the chest. "And none have yet opened that," he said knowingly. Before his son could respond, the elvenking continued. "None could save those who knew the words to do so."

Legolas' brow furrowed. "Then it is impossible to open? This enchantment is lost to us now," he muttered towards the end.

"It may not open," Thranduil began, a hint of mischief in his own blue eyes as he came to stand behind the silver chest. He son stood before it. "If you try the usual methods."

Before the prince could question his father further, the King of the Woodland Realm tipped the chest over, causing it to crash to the ground. Legolas jumped back in surprise before his father moved back around the table and picked the chest up, upside down. There, the prince could see the issue – the bottom of the chest was a set in but not secured silver plate. With the slightest push of a hand, the bottom of the chest could be opened.

Legolas did not give voice to his questions but simply gave his father a look. Placing the chest so it may lean betwixt two brass candle sticks whilst upside down, Thranduil pushed his shoulder's back and hid his smile. "I recall this chest for it was of Doriath," the elvenking informed his son. Still giving his father an incredulous look, Thranduil coughed slightly and had the good grace to look the slightest hint sheepish. "I may have….played with this particular chest a time or two as an elfling."

"You were an elfling?" Legolas teased. To that, Thranduil gave a sour look but said nothing against it to his son. It turned soft again as he became lost in memory.

"Queen Melian caught me once," he breathed. The elvenking remembered the fear he felt in his heart as the Maia found him sitting in a room filled with treasure – exactly where he shouldn't be- sorting the treasures hidden in the enchanted chest when he found a way around the enchantment. Rather than be angry, she gave him more boxes and chests to break into to see what the then fifteen year old elfling would do. When King Thingol questioned her about it, the Queen answered, "What better way to find out how impenetrable an object truly is than to give it to a child to break?"

"She then proceeded to cast enchantments over objects and see if I find a way around the enchantments," he mused at the memory. His father, Oropher, was simply glad that Thranduil's skill of getting out of things or breaking items was put to a good use.

Legolas chuckled but said nothing more as his father pressed against a corner on the bottom of the chest. The silver plate gave way slightly but not enough to push it in at an angle to force the bottom out. Rather, Thranduil looked about and beheld his brass letter opener – just strong enough against the silver that it could bend it at the right leverage point. He pressed it against the loose corner and folded the edge back, tearing and manipulating the silver so badly that the smiths might have issue with pressing it back again should any wish to use the chest.

Inside was as wooden panel which Thranduil looked at with a hint of confusion. The chest was well over 8,000 solar years old, if not a great deal older. The wood that the chest was originally made with should have long since gone to rot. Perhaps the panel had been replaced by Sarmo or another and the secret to opening the chest properly lay with them.

Taking the letter opener, the elvenking jabbed it into the wood, causing the panel to break away enough that, after a few stabs, he was able to at least reach inside. What he pulled out surprised him and had his son look on in confusion for it was nothing more than a stack of letters. He placed them upon the table, pulling out more as he went. Some letters were folded with nothing to indicate their contents, others had names upon them. Thranduil stopped pulling the letters out when he saw one with his name upon it.

With a slight tremor, he picked that particular letter back up. The handwriting was not of Sarmo – for he knew his mellontew's handwriting well- but of one he knew long gone from Arda's shores. He near stumbled to his chair as he read its contents, letting his hand fall, clutching the letter still, as he gazed towards the fireplace.

"Ada!" Legolas exclaimed before rushing to his father and looking to the letter himself. Standing next to his father, Legolas read the following words:

Little Elfling Prince,

The secret word was dúlin. I have placed a small enchantment on the inside this time so that anything placed within it may not rot but preserve until the end of Arda. Take care, little elfling, and cherish those you still have. The babes you hold dear, one grown and fair and the other new to your heart, will help to bring peace to all of Arda.

Melina the Queen

Legolas looked to his father and noticed his expression. Trying to rouse the elvenking, he smirked slight. "Dúlin," the prince spoke. The top of the silver chest broke open, spilling more letters and a few scattered gems on to the table upon which it sat. Looking upon the now mess of a broken silver chest and the scattered letters, the prince turned back to his father. "Well, that was easy."

Chapter End Notes

I admit, this chapter was somewhat hard to write because it becomes so obvious why Thranduil is bitter. He's lived through hell and hell again. He survived a kinslaying and then had to help guide the Sindar after a third kinslaying while the world was, quite literally, falling apart. Add in a cousin marrying the blood enemy and it just gets worse from there.

And yes, my headcannon is that Celeborn and Thranduil are pretty closely related. The line is thus:

Elmo who is brother to both Thingol and Olwe, had a son Galadhon. Galadhon had two sons, Galathil and Celeborn. So far, that's all Tolkien. However, my headcannon is that Galathil is the father of Oropher- making Oropher the brother of Nimloth - Elrond's maternal Grandmother.

Confused yet? There is a reason I now have a notebook and a spreadsheet to keep all this sorted. I swear there will be fluff soon! Need to get past the kinslaying aspect first...