Chapter 1: The Stolen Child
Spoiler alert about prequel story & author's notes on this story, posting frequency, format, etc. below. Please read note on content warnings if you have sensitivities and are trying to avoid certain types of material. This story will briefly touch on some things that you may not want to read, but I have not included them in any filtered warnings because they will not be explicit, the focus of any story line, nor extreme. I hope you are safe & well – please take care of yourself.
C/W: loss of child
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The daughter of Legolas was a beautiful child, but she was reckless. As soon as she could crawl, she climbed. She would leap from one branch to another, always getting up again if she fell, causing her mother great worry. The elf-girl was called Angharad, an unusual but lovely name chosen by her mother, who was not from Valinor. [1] Her hair was straight and flaxen, like her father. Her eyes were a shining green-and-gold hazel, like her mother. The girl had a clear and lovely voice and loved to sing for her delighted elders.
For the first twenty-five years of her life, she knew only joy. She grew enfolded in the warmth of a large extended family, living in the Silvan Quarter in Valinor, where her grandfather's former subjects had mostly settled. She played gleefully in the forests and streets with other elf children – scaling walls that stood in her way as easily as the trees, which she loved dearly. She was terribly curious, which led her to frequently be in trouble with adults. She was always sporting various scrapes and bruises she'd gathered trying to explore some nest or other remote thing.
Her mother, Lossrilleth, worried constantly about her, fussing over this or that injury and admonishing her child to take better care. [2] Legolas rarely worried though, delighting in his daughter's vitality, for he had the confidence of his own long experience and knew that she was learning with every mistake. Her strong elven body would heal easily from any little bump or cut she might inflict on herself. Even a broken bone would not have been a problem in the long run, for it would only serve to teach her her limitations.
The girl was especially dear to her grandfather Thranduil, who saw his eldest son clearly in the rowdy youth. Though by the time she was born, he had had four children in addition to Legolas (making him one of the most prolific elves in history, to his great pride), Thranduil found that Angharad held a special place in his heart. His own daughter, barely out of childhood herself, was his last baby and only girl child. By the time Angharad was born, he had only just begun to understand the depths of tenderness a father might share with his daughter.
On this new daughter of his line, she shone the full strength of his love, allowing himself to play with and delight in her; dropping the great seriousness with which he held himself. She returned his affection entirely – her adoration for the ancient elf melted the hearts of all those who knew them. She would hardly ever go to bed without first finding Thranduil wherever he was and wishing him goodnight, often bringing little gifts of feathers, acorns, or shining stones, each of which he admired stridently.
All seemed well in Valinor, though in the last hundred and fifty years, it had begun to change in small ways. In the forests of Oromё, hunters had claimed to see creatures that looked like small-winged elves flying high in the trees. A lost elfling made his way back home, swearing he had been guided by a talking fox. These reports were especially curious to Legolas, Lossrilleth, and Gandalf, who had encountered these creatures before but knew they should not be in Valinor.
Occasionally Lossrilleth could be seen deep in the forest, speaking to the air in the strange language that only she knew, and that was said to be the mother tongue of the creator Eru themselves. She wondered if the great being had listened to her many years ago, when she had warned them that the elves grew stagnant in the repetitiveness of life in Valinor. But such things were no longer her concern. She had renounced the power of creative imagination as the cost of her right to stay in these lands with the one she loved.
On the fateful day that changed all their lives, the sun shone bright and the air grew hot, as though summer had finally arrived in the land of eternal spring. Angharad woke early, racing from her parents' talan on the edge of the settlement and into the Silvan Quarter's great communal dining hall, where the morning meal was being set out.
"Grandfather, grandfather!" she shrieked with delight, upon seeing Thranduil. He scooped her up and threw her in the air only to catch her again, giggling loudly.
"Grandfather, it's hot today! Let's go to the ocean!" she chattered, running to the window to look outside at the sky, and then back again.
"Calm yourself, nettё, you will trip someone," Thranduil said fondly. Legolas and Lossrilleth arrived on her heels, happy to see that she was already under the eye of a responsible adult.
"Father! Mother! It's so hot, I want to go to the ocean!" their daughter crowed, humming with energy. "Grandfather said we could."
Thranduil shook his head at the mischievous girl, replying, "I have said no such thing – you haven't stopped talking since you arrived, when would I have had a chance to say anything at all?" She giggled nervously, caught in her fib.
"But can we, please?" she asked again, bouncing from foot to foot. Her joy was infectious and there was no reason to deny her. It was an unusually hot day, and the seaside was not far away. Soon many elves had caught onto the idea and a full-blown beach party was in the works. Word was even sent to the house of Elrond, who called Lossrilleth kin by adoption, that their family should join if they wished to.
On the shore, the elf-children ranged about in a pack, scouring the sands for shells and other treasures. The adults picnicked merrily on blankets laid out under colorful tarpaulins meant for large hunting parties. Elrond, Celebrian, their sons Elrohir and Elladan, and Gandalf joined them from across town, bringing great barrels of wine to add to the merriment. The sun sparkled on the shifting waters, looking out towards the east.
The children had run far down the beach towards the south, where the retreating waves had left tide pools full of fascinating sea creatures open to easy inspection. Barefoot, skirts and trousers tied up for easy movement, the youths sank their feet into the sand and water, splashing each other and feeling joyful. Angharad skimmed her hands over the water, soaked up to her waist knowing full well that she'd get a scolding later.
She looked further south and saw something dark on the shore. Shining in the hot sun, a group of gray seals scurried into the water, running from the boisterous voices of the children. Behind them, they left a strange looking object lying tipped over on the sands. This was a mystery the young Angharad could never resist.
Breaking away from her companions, she raced ahead. What she found looked at once like a large cradle and a small boat. It was carved from dark wood that had decayed with time. Its hull was covered with barnacles and green slime. Looking into the bottom of the vessel, she saw a tattered old blanket. Something shiny poked out from underneath. She reached deep into its belly, rooting through the folds of moldered wool to try to find the object underneath.
But the boat had been carved deep and she was small. Reminded of her diminutive stature, which often led to her to lag behind the other elf children her age, Angharad felt a stab of frustration. She climbed into the coracle and reached all the way into the bottom, where she found a rough silver broach of interlacing arms that had no beginning or end.
"Humans!" She thought in excitement, for she was always asking her mother, who knew them well, about the legendary people. This object must have washed up from Middle Earth, miraculously floating up the Straight Road to be deposited on the shores of Aman.
In her excitement imagining the valiant men of old, she failed to notice that the tiny ship had started to rock as each wave struck it. The tide was coming in. By the time she realized, she was floating on the waves close to the shore. She prepared to jump out, but the dark seals had returned, leaping at her if she tried to leave, forcing her back into the boat. The young elf was overtaken swiftly. The selkies (for this is what they were) dragged their quarry away from the shore and onto rough waters.
The other elf children had just started to approach her when the seals had attacked. They tried to follow her, but the selkies drove them back, hissing and slapping their great bodies against the water. One child waited no more and raced back towards the adults screaming and pointing at the quickly retreating ship. The far-sighted adults tried to catch sight of the floating object, but the sun was blinding reflected off the water.
"What is it?" one of them called out to the panicked child as he tried to reach them.
"It's Angharad," the young boy shouted.
Legolas and Lossrilleth felt hot dread wash over them. Both dashed for the water – Legolas diving in and swimming as hard as he was able. But the coracle was far ahead in the distance now. The elves watched in fear as the great door between their realm and the Straight Road back to Middle Earth bloomed wide, and then shut again. Lossrilleth released a scream that more easily could have come from a wounded animal than an elf. Legolas tread water, watching the distant spot where his only child had disappeared into the aether with numb disbelief.
The souls of elf children remained connected to their parents in a triumvirate of safety until the children reached the age of maturity when, of their own accord, they would release themselves from this bond. Angharad was only half the age she should be to be separated from her parents. There was not an elf present who could imagine a more grievous separation. All watched in helpless horror as the two parents reeled in shock. [2]
Lossrilleth was on all fours on the sand, panting with stuttered sobs. She was overcome with a feeling of nausea – something she could only recall from now dim memories of her previous life as a human in a world far away.
Looking back towards her trusted elders, she shouted, "We have to follow her!" Celebrian, who had been her foster mother in Valinor ran to Lossrilleth and held her tight in both soul and body, feeling the young mother tremble under her touch.
"You cannot," Elrond said, quiet and somber. "We are forbidden by the Valar from returning to Middle Earth – to a one."
Lossrilleth could not accept this. She was ready to fight God over this. Her thoughts churned over what she knew about the powers of her adopted world. The Valar ruled, ensuring that everything unfolded according to Eru's great symphony.
Eru, the maker of the world, she had met before. She recalled how enormous and distant the being was. In their land of imagination, ideas came and went. Their attention might wink in and out, focusing on an individual, then spread over the great expanse of all beings everywhere. Had they even seen what happened?
But before they were the great maker, he had been a man. A man who loved his children so dearly that he had created this incredible world to send them to sleep at night. Lossrilleth thought as quickly as she could. What if this were a mistake? A fluke, not some great plan? If she could capture Eru's attention, perhaps he could intervene, bypassing even the orders of the Valar.
An idea born of desperation came into her mind. Eru loved the English language and folklore. Eru loved songs and stories. She stood with purpose and walked to the edge of the water, raising her arms toward the sky as the waves lapped her feet, palms raised in supplication. In the language of her childhood, she began to sing the ancient Scottish song [3]:
Oh the water is wide, I cannot cross o'er
And neither have I wings to fly
Send me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row, my love and I
The elves watched in confusion and shock as she sang, her typically clear and high voice dark with sorrow.
A ship there is that can cross the sea
She's loaded deep as deep can be
But not as deep as the love I'm in
I know not how I sink or swim
Only Gandalf and Legolas really understood what she was doing, for they had been with her the first time she sought audience with their maker. A frantic hope crossed each of their hearts, as they raised their own prayers to the supreme being asking for respite.
Then, she innovated, making her case to the one to whom she had promised her faith so long as Arda remained:
If I may follow to yonder shore
Shall I return here nevermore?
But I would go, whate'er the cost
To seek the one from whom I'm lost
As she sang, the elves had the impression that something gathered above them that covered the whole sky, but nothing could be seen. The imposing presence gathered over the young mother until it seemed she stood under a mountain that might crush her at any moment. All watching shook with awe. She stood straight and firm with determination, looking up into the face-and-not-face that she had encountered before.
"Please," she begged in English.
Eru scolded her, "It was you who said the elves grew weary in Valinor without variation. I brought the selkies here with the other creatures due to that interference. You do not know my design, and yet you sought to instruct me."
They were angry. This error caused them pain in their own being, so long removed from the cares of existence.
"I will do whatever you ask of me," Lossrilleth answered, in her heart showing her contrition. "I will walk on my knees from one end of Middle Earth to the other. I repent utterly for interfering in your plan. You know better than I, I shall never again forget. This mistake is mine and mine alone; let me suffer in her place. Let her be spared and returned here, where she belongs with her father and her family. I submit to total obliteration if that is your will."
Eru could not help but be moved by this mother's fierce love for her child. He looked out into the vast web of his creation, where trillions of melodies of fate intertwined with each other. Second by second, each being in all the world was in harmony with every other. What had happened could not be undone now without creating discord. The fate of the elf girl was to travel to Middle Earth. But…
In ancient Quenya the voice spoke to all, its power shaking the very teeth of those present. "Follow."
And to the Valar the creator commanded, "Find a way."
The presence lifted suddenly and Lossrilleth collapsed into the waves. Legolas was already swimming back to her. He helped her rise on weak legs and the two stumbled out of the water together before their community. While not a corner of any blanket had stirred, the elves all lay flattened in stunned silence at what they had just witnessed.
Legolas and Lossrilleth held each other, shaking. They were to return to Middle Earth.
(~*~*~)
Footnotes:
[1] Angharad is a Welsh name meaning "much loved" or "well-loved". As a note, the 'g' in Angharad is almost silent, so to English speakers, it would sound like "ahn-HAR-ad". Sorry for not picking an elvish name – I just love this one.
"Welsh is of this soil, this island, the senior language of the men of Britain; and Welsh is beautiful." – J.R.R. Tolkien
[2] I've embellished on Tolkien's basic description of the connection between elf children and their parents, but I'm going to stick with my interpretation through this story. He only said: "a sundering during pregnancy or during the early years of parenthood, such as by war, would be so grievous to the couple, and hurtful to the child, that they prefer to have children in peaceful times."
Lossrilleth means "brilliant/bright snow".
[3] "Oh the Water is Wide (Waly Waly)" is a Scottish folk song. If you want to listen, I like Orla Fallon's cover of it in terms of Elvishness.
General chapter influences: The Secret of Roan Innish (film, 1994).
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Author's Notes (They won't be long like this again, if I include them at all):
No beta we die as... elves? (Unless you're interested in being my beta reader in which case by all means send me a message.)
Prequel: This story is meant to be able to stand alone. But – there is a completed prequel telling the love story between Legolas & his wife under the title The Forest in Winter by this author/in this collection. Some parts of this story, including this chapter, might ruin some surprises if you'd prefer to start with that story, which is a completed work. They are going to keep being a fluffy romantic couple because I think it's fun, but I'm also going to take a peek under the hood at the costs of having a relationship where your soul is literally bound forever to your partner (codependence *cough*).
Updates & Format: I will try to update this work regularly: either weekly or biweekly. There will be parallel storylines for a while. Because this makes the timeline a little tricky sometimes for me as a writer, the chapter lengths will have a bit of variation The goal is to post chapters in pairs until the storylines converge because it sucks not to get an update on the storyline/characters you prefer. Pick your own adventure! Read one or both! The prequel was novela length. This one is half to a third written currently and it looks like it will be novel length – but probably a shorter novel.
Content Warnings & Sexual Content: If you read my last story – thanks & welcome back! This story is going to be grittier. We're leaving the safety of Valinor and getting dirty with the mortals in Middle Earth. That said, I am not George R.R. Martin: there will be no gratuitous gore or torture and, while the dangers women face from men will be apparent, there will be no rape stories. All chapters will have C/Ws posted at the top as necessary. If it helps at all, I'm American so I never feel totally satisfied with bitterly unhappy endings. (Screw you White Bim, Black Ear.) This is cross-posted on AO3 in a collection that includes some additional scenes that are separately rated.
Other Characters & History: If you hate OC stories, this is probably not for you. There will be many: it's centuries after everyone but the elves died in Middle Earth. BUT the descendants of many of your favorite mortals are going to make appearances. I've always seen the world as a kind of character of its own – one I like to explore. Tolkien has said his legendarium was inspired as an alternative history to the peoples of the United Kingdom. I'm going to play with that a bit here. Please join me!
On Race & Non-Western Cultures: I don't want to give too much away, but this story will stray out of the traditionally European-based portion of Middle Earth for a time. The Haradrim and Easterlings in LotR came from somewhere – I think they can't be just villains. I am a white, cis, straight woman from the Northeast U.S.A. (you're shocked, I know). I am mostly writing from my own experience because it's what I know best.
Here is my promise: when I write about people & cultures that are not my own, I will: (1) do my research first, (2) be open to receiving your feedback (which you do not owe me), (3) make sure all characters are 'real' people with strengths & weaknesses and real driving motivations: not caricatures, and (4) try to portray cultures as similarly complex creatures driven by shared values and conventions that have both strengths and challenges. My intention is appreciation, not appropriation, and I mean to do no harm.
Beta/Consultant Request: If anyone reads this who is personally connected with Chinese culture and loves Wuxia films too (I love them) and would be interested in being a beta reader/contributor/cultural & language consultant, I would LOVE to talk with you about a particular section of this story I have in mind. I will give you credit!
I do not own any of these worlds, canon characters, copyrights, etc. I make no money and get no other benefit out of writing this other than my own joy. Citations will be given to all influences & inspirations from other books or movies as appropriate.