AN: In this part, Legolas' age is roughly equivalent to a five-year-old human. Relfían would be about eight, and Ceretín nine.
Part One: A Light is Shadowed
Late Summer, 2489 TA
Chapter One: A Warning IgnoredIsáwien, Queen of Once-Great Greenwood, was not skilled with a blade yet she wielded it nonetheless.
Her guards had been struck down, but the she-elf was not quite defenseless, particularly when the life of her youngest child, Legolas, was at stake.
The spider advanced. On all eight legs it was as tall as an elf, the bright green markings on its sides standing out in the twilit darkness. On its four hind legs it was a terrifying height, towering over the she-elf and casting a shadow about the entire clearing.
"You cannot have him," the queen declared, ignoring the numerous cuts she had already endured.
The spider hissed at the queen, cursing at her in its own foul tongue as it side-stepped to find its prize.
The Great Spider would not rest unless it took a certain elfling with it for dinner. An elfling whose spirit was so bright that every foul creature in Mirkwood could sense it the moment the elfling left the walls of the palace.
Isáwien lunged for the spider, aiming for its left eye. She cried out in pain as one of its massive legs tossed her aside. She scrambled to her feet, ready to launch an attack from behind when the beast turned toward her son.
She screamed in anger, running at the spider though her strength was failing.
Impatient, the spider turned on the queen, snatching her up in its forelegs to deliver the deadly bite.
It was just what Isáwien was waiting for. As the beast brought her to its horrible fangs she struck out one last time, burying her sword deep in its foul head.
Black blood oozed out, and she cried out in pain as the creature's fangs pierced her arm as it jerked in its death-throes.
She pulled away and landed roughly on the ground, gasping for breath and holding her injured arm close. Her consciousness was quickly fading, the paralysis that would destroy her body taking hold.
She had the strength left for one final thought. "Thranduil...protect our son."
The king sat up, gasping for breath. He ran one hand over his face, cursing the memories that were etched in stone in his mind.
Ten years. Ten years since the queen had been killed by a spider, yet he had only had dreams this vivid just after her death.
And yet three weeks ago, with the last anniversary of Isáwien's death, he had begun to have this same dream every night.
And every night it ended the same.
Thranduil...protect our son.
He walked to the balcony and threw the doors open, inhaling deeply the fresh scent of morning. It was still too early for the sun to be seen, but he could see servants and other elves bustling about in the courtyard preparing for a new day's tasks. Yet he barely noticed the elves of his kingdom as his thoughts turned inward, considering his wife's words in his dream.
Protect their son?
He had spent his years as king trying to safeguard Mirkwood for his people and his children...of course he was going to protect his son.
But Thranduil shivered as cold fingers seemed to run up his spine, and he knew the message of the dream was something more.
Only their two youngest children had been born after the Shadow fell on Greenwood.When Tinlith was born she had been sent to Lothlorien to live with distant kin, out of the reach of the Shadow. Isáwien had wanted to do something similar with Legolas; to send him to Rivendell to be raised by Lord Elrond.
Thranduil was reluctant to do so, and had argued that enough time had passed since the Shadow fell over Greenwood that they could protect their son enough within the palace walls. Though Isáwien had not agreed, she had gone along with his decision.
Then, ten years ago Isáwien had taken Legolas, accompanied by a contingent of guards, to visit some other elflings in the small village half a day's journey away. They had been attacked by spiders, and Isáwien herself had fought off the last spider: a Great Spider the likes of which had not been seen in centuries. She had died from the venom, but Legolas had been found unharmed, hidden beneath a cloak cast off by one of the guards.
The prince had not seen much of the battle, hidden as he was, but he had known his mother was dead.
It had taken nearly two years, but Legolas had recovered from the tragedy that struck so early in his life and regained his cheerful disposition, though he still had a few sad moments when he remembered his mother.
Whether he knew she had sacrificed herself to save him, though, Thranduil wasn't sure.
And yet, that danger was not enough to convince Thranduil to send Legolas away. Instead he had issued a decree that the young prince was never to leave the palace walls until he came of age and began his warrior training. Surely he would be safe if he never strayed from the protective power of the elven stronghold.
And for ten years it had worked.
The king smiled at the thought of his growing son. Many in the palace had remarked about the strong resemblance Legolas bore to his father. They shared the same coloring and similar features, though Thranduil was discovering that Legolas had his precious mother's spirit. At twenty-four, Legolas was just beginning to learn his letters and numbers and would often sit on his father's lap and try to point them out in the documents the king was going through.
Those were precious moments to Thranduil...moments he hadn't been able to share with his older sons.
Sighing wearily as the thought of paperwork brought to mind his responsibilities for the day, he quickly erased all thought of his dream from his mind and threw his robe around his shoulders. Perhaps if he took care of reading over that trade negotiation now he would have time to breakfast with his family.
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"Legolas! Sit still!"
The little elf wriggled, making a face as his nurse ran the brush through his hair. "But it hurts," he whimpered, wondering why his nurse always managed to pull his hair when his father and his sisters never did.
"Well, unless you want to look like a dirty little orc at the breakfast table you will stop squirming," Amarthwen declared, no trace of humor in her voice. "If you do not sit still I will pull all of your hair out and leave you bald," she said sharply, putting one hand on Legolas' shoulder and pressing down.
The prince complied meekly, wincing as she managed to pull out half the hair in his head (or so it felt), and she still wasn't satisfied.
"There. That is done," Amarthwen sighed. "Your father will be at breakfast, so try not to show him how ill-mannered you are today."
Legolas sighed. He was not a bad elfling, he didn't think. But Amarthwen was constantly finding things he did wrong...she was worse than Belegdur sometimes! And if he got just a little bit dirty she called him a dirty little orc, which was not nice at all.
"May I go now?" he asked politely.
The nurse grunted and waved him away. Legolas stood up excitedly and bolted out the door, ignoring her cries to him to slow down. Maybe if he behaved extra good Ada would say he didn't need a nurse anymore...he was big enough now, wasn't he? And if his sister Luni could help him, maybe then Amarthwen could go back to the village like she was always saying she wanted to.
He decided he had to talk to Ada about this. Right after breakfast, of course.
"And there is the little one!" someone shouted when he entered the dining room, and in a moment he found himself picked up around the waist and hoisted onto a pair of broad shoulders.
"Good morning, Gilfaroth," Legolas giggled as his brother-in-law carried him over to the breakfast table.
"Look what I caught, Beleg!" Gilfaroth announced to the second-born prince.
Belegdur glanced up, a slight smile creeping onto his face. "So Ada is stocking the pond with elflings now, is he?" the blonde elf asked.
"Gilfaroth!" a she-elf swooped in, lifting Legolas easily off her husband's shoulders. "Do be careful...he could have fallen!"
"I was being careful, Luni," Gilfaroth replied, planting a kiss on the she-elf's cheek. "See? Not even a strand of hair out of place."
Legolas smiled up at his biggest sister. The dark-haired, brown-eyed she-elf had been like a mother to him ever since Naneth had died, even though he still couldn't quite say her name (Luinlothiel was quite the mouthful for an elfling). "Morning, Luni," he said brightly.
Luinlothiel pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Has anyone seen Ada yet?" she asked, taking a seat next to Legolas.
"He was looking over those trade agreements," Belegdur spoke up. "He said he would try to make time for breakfast this morning."
Gilfaroth smiled at Legolas, sitting down across from his wife. "The guard is changing today," he said. "Do you know who are coming in?"
Eyes wide, Legolas could only shake his head.
"Haudhel and Eithellim."
Legolas' smile took up his entire face. "You mean Relfían and Ceretín are coming?"
The dark-haired elf nodded, laughing to himself. Relfían and Ceretín, sons of two of the royal guard, were two of the only elflings close to Legolas' age, and even though Relfían was fifteen years Legolas' elder and Ceretín twenty, both were extremely close to the little prince.
At that moment, Thranduil entered. He smiled warmly at his family, taking a seat on the other side of Legolas as the servants brought the breakfast dishes forward. "Good morning, Legolas," the king said to his youngest. "Did you sleep well?"
"Aye...I dreamt that Gilfaroth's horse learned to talk and saved an elfling from an ugly spider!"
Thranduil raised one eyebrow, his gaze turning to his son-in-law who usually took charge of Legolas' bedtime stories.
Gilfaroth pretended to ignore the king, engrossing himself in a conversation with Belegdur.
"Ada?"
The king turned to the small elfling beside him. "Yes, Legolas?"
"Can I play with Relfían and Ceretín when they come?"
Thranduil again glanced up at his son-in-law. "I suppose so...provided you've finished your studies."
Legolas smiled happily, applying himself to the bowl of porridge his sister placed before him.
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Thranduil had felt a small shiver run up his spine when Legolas asked about being allowed to play with his friends. He did not know why, though. Even though Relfían and Ceretín were older they were always careful and never led the younger elfling into danger. Their fathers had first arranged the friendship under the belief that the pair would eventually become royal guards and might be assigned to the prince, but none had expected the true friendship that had arisen between the three.
And yet...somehow he knew this feeling was connected with his dream. He brusquely shoved it aside, smiling at a story the elfling was telling.
It was only a dream, nothing more.
Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?
AN: Great Spiders, as I wrote them, first made their appearance in chapter eight of Beginnings. You can check that story for my description...they're not exactly Tolkien, though.