Faded Light: Book II
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,205
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,205
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Characters and places belong to JRR Tolkien and to his estate. I own only my OC's and twisted storylines.
Estelvist
(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see top of Chapter 1.)
- A/N: Here’s a new one, and it’s got Thranduil in it. I know I haven’t had any scenes with him in part II yet, which is a long time, but there are a few more coming up with him soon...
And Ziggy3, thank you for your comments, (I promise you won't seen any descriptions of "cerulean orbs" in this story; I also set out from the start to avoid turning Legolas into some kind of maiden in distress)...anyway, I'm working to finish writing Part II of this story, hopefully by early next year, (though the story will be continued in Part III) so I will try to keep posting once or twice a week through the next 30 or so chapters... -
Chapter 12
Estelvist
“...I have already told you, Legolas, you are not spending midsummer’s eve with Faervel’s people. The Lord and Lady are paying us a visit and Mirkwood’s Crown-prince will not be absent...
“And besides that,” added the king, “there is a trade delegation coming from Esgarosth and from Dale. I need you here Ion Nin,” he ignored the sour look that always crossed the youth’s face when being forced to deal with Men.
“Why can’t Leralonde or Ethiel...?”
“Your cousins will all be here, but you are my heir; there are many things a future ruler can only learn by spending a suitable amount of time attending the tedious business of the court...and not only on patrol or with woodelves...”
“You know I do not mind having to attend council meetings, but I have not the patience for dealing with Men,” the prince admitted unhappily.
“...just what is it that you have against Faervel and Aphadon...?” he asked suddenly angry, ignoring the previous subject and the point of the entire argument.
“It cannot be simply that they are silvan, for Naneth was silvan and so is my brother and at least a quarter of your nobles...and I have never known you to be less than a just king to any of your people...but them you treat as if they were too far below you to even...”
“How I feel about Faervel or anyone else is my affair...and has nothing to do with this discussion.”
“Forgive me, Ada, but I think it does. For I doubt you would object as much if it was Nemir or even Tadion, I chose to spend my time with...centuries have I tried to understand what this ill will is toward Faervel and Aphadon and still it eludes me...nay, not them only but their entire house...”
“There are things that happened long before you were born, Legolas, that you know nothing of...and that I have no intention of discussing with you,” it came out more harshly than he had it meant to.
"You will be here to greet the Lord and Lady and celebrate the festival with your family, as is proper,” said the king more calmly, “and to meet the delegation from the human settlements, and that is my final word on the matter.
“...and you will watch your tone, penneth,” he added. “Four hundred seventy-five is still not too old to be sent to your rooms.”
"Perhaps not,” the youth raised a blond eyebrow, looking not unlike his father and stood firm, “however, as I am also no longer an elfling and I am shortly to leave on patrol, I know that you will not wish me shirking my duties to remain grounded at home for two weeks...
"Though, I suspect I may upon my return...”
The king forced himself not to smile at the youth’s boldness.
He rose and came around his desk to stand in front of his son, gently cupping his face...
“Ada, whatever your objections are to Faervel and his family, or to the ways of woodelves...you know I would never do anything that would bring shame on you or on my name...” he tried to smile, “Silvans are hardly heathens...their ties with the Avari are far in the past..."
"I know that, Ion Nin...and it is not your good sense I distrust...”
“And you should not doubt Faervel and Aphadon either. I would trust them with my life.”
“May the Valar grant there is never any need of it.”
Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son, anxious, as he was every time he let his youngest out into an ever darkening world. “Harthon gerich rui vaer, Ion Nin...”
Legolas bowed his head and let his father place a soft kiss on his brow.
"And be careful.”
"I will.”
"And expect we will have another long talk about your plans for the Midsummer Festival,” he admonished with little severity.
It was the last time he ever saw his son...
\\\\\\\\\\\\
Thranduil looked with disinterest at the pile of paperwork on his desk; he had meant to work late and catch up, but as too often happened of late he had lost himself instead in the past...
He could no longer deny it; his heart had grown too weary. Despite all of Elrond’s skill, he did not know how much longer he could hold off making the choice of taking the ship to Valinor or fading here, but he knew he could not leave it all to Leralonde while everything seemed to be falling to chaos.
Closing his hand over the wedding band he still wore even after so many centuries, he imagined he could almost see his beloved Thalielwen standing before him...in the same place Legolas had stood on that last day; refusing to back down, when he was sure he was right, even if it was his father with whom he argued...
He felt the same pride he had felt then in his strong-willed son, mixed now with the endless sorrow.
“Watch over our son, my love,” he thought, hoping Thalielwen could indeed hear him from where she dwelt in Mandos' Halls, “if he is truly with you now.
“I know soon I too will join you.
“...but not yet,” he rested his head tiredly in his hands for a moment.
“Valar, grant me enough time while there is still so much to do.” With one more look at his unfinished work, knowing he was no more likely to finish tonight than he was to find rest, he got up and left his rooms.
TBC...
Elvish translations:
Estelvist / lost hope
Adar, Ada / Father, dad, daddy
Penneth / young one
Harthon gerich rui vaer / I hope you will have a good hunt
Ion Nin / my son
Avari / primitive elves who refused the summons to Valinor. They remained on Middle Earth, where some intermarried with the ancestors of the Silvan Elves.
- A/N: Here’s a new one, and it’s got Thranduil in it. I know I haven’t had any scenes with him in part II yet, which is a long time, but there are a few more coming up with him soon...
And Ziggy3, thank you for your comments, (I promise you won't seen any descriptions of "cerulean orbs" in this story; I also set out from the start to avoid turning Legolas into some kind of maiden in distress)...anyway, I'm working to finish writing Part II of this story, hopefully by early next year, (though the story will be continued in Part III) so I will try to keep posting once or twice a week through the next 30 or so chapters... -
Estelvist
“...I have already told you, Legolas, you are not spending midsummer’s eve with Faervel’s people. The Lord and Lady are paying us a visit and Mirkwood’s Crown-prince will not be absent...
“And besides that,” added the king, “there is a trade delegation coming from Esgarosth and from Dale. I need you here Ion Nin,” he ignored the sour look that always crossed the youth’s face when being forced to deal with Men.
“Why can’t Leralonde or Ethiel...?”
“Your cousins will all be here, but you are my heir; there are many things a future ruler can only learn by spending a suitable amount of time attending the tedious business of the court...and not only on patrol or with woodelves...”
“You know I do not mind having to attend council meetings, but I have not the patience for dealing with Men,” the prince admitted unhappily.
“...just what is it that you have against Faervel and Aphadon...?” he asked suddenly angry, ignoring the previous subject and the point of the entire argument.
“It cannot be simply that they are silvan, for Naneth was silvan and so is my brother and at least a quarter of your nobles...and I have never known you to be less than a just king to any of your people...but them you treat as if they were too far below you to even...”
“How I feel about Faervel or anyone else is my affair...and has nothing to do with this discussion.”
“Forgive me, Ada, but I think it does. For I doubt you would object as much if it was Nemir or even Tadion, I chose to spend my time with...centuries have I tried to understand what this ill will is toward Faervel and Aphadon and still it eludes me...nay, not them only but their entire house...”
“There are things that happened long before you were born, Legolas, that you know nothing of...and that I have no intention of discussing with you,” it came out more harshly than he had it meant to.
"You will be here to greet the Lord and Lady and celebrate the festival with your family, as is proper,” said the king more calmly, “and to meet the delegation from the human settlements, and that is my final word on the matter.
“...and you will watch your tone, penneth,” he added. “Four hundred seventy-five is still not too old to be sent to your rooms.”
"Perhaps not,” the youth raised a blond eyebrow, looking not unlike his father and stood firm, “however, as I am also no longer an elfling and I am shortly to leave on patrol, I know that you will not wish me shirking my duties to remain grounded at home for two weeks...
"Though, I suspect I may upon my return...”
The king forced himself not to smile at the youth’s boldness.
He rose and came around his desk to stand in front of his son, gently cupping his face...
“Ada, whatever your objections are to Faervel and his family, or to the ways of woodelves...you know I would never do anything that would bring shame on you or on my name...” he tried to smile, “Silvans are hardly heathens...their ties with the Avari are far in the past..."
"I know that, Ion Nin...and it is not your good sense I distrust...”
“And you should not doubt Faervel and Aphadon either. I would trust them with my life.”
“May the Valar grant there is never any need of it.”
Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son, anxious, as he was every time he let his youngest out into an ever darkening world. “Harthon gerich rui vaer, Ion Nin...”
Legolas bowed his head and let his father place a soft kiss on his brow.
"And be careful.”
"I will.”
"And expect we will have another long talk about your plans for the Midsummer Festival,” he admonished with little severity.
It was the last time he ever saw his son...
\\\\\\\\\\\\
Thranduil looked with disinterest at the pile of paperwork on his desk; he had meant to work late and catch up, but as too often happened of late he had lost himself instead in the past...
He could no longer deny it; his heart had grown too weary. Despite all of Elrond’s skill, he did not know how much longer he could hold off making the choice of taking the ship to Valinor or fading here, but he knew he could not leave it all to Leralonde while everything seemed to be falling to chaos.
Closing his hand over the wedding band he still wore even after so many centuries, he imagined he could almost see his beloved Thalielwen standing before him...in the same place Legolas had stood on that last day; refusing to back down, when he was sure he was right, even if it was his father with whom he argued...
He felt the same pride he had felt then in his strong-willed son, mixed now with the endless sorrow.
“Watch over our son, my love,” he thought, hoping Thalielwen could indeed hear him from where she dwelt in Mandos' Halls, “if he is truly with you now.
“I know soon I too will join you.
“...but not yet,” he rested his head tiredly in his hands for a moment.
“Valar, grant me enough time while there is still so much to do.” With one more look at his unfinished work, knowing he was no more likely to finish tonight than he was to find rest, he got up and left his rooms.
TBC...
Elvish translations:
Estelvist / lost hope
Adar, Ada / Father, dad, daddy
Penneth / young one
Harthon gerich rui vaer / I hope you will have a good hunt
Ion Nin / my son
Avari / primitive elves who refused the summons to Valinor. They remained on Middle Earth, where some intermarried with the ancestors of the Silvan Elves.