Golden One: Story of a Prince

This chapter is a bit longer than the others. I hope that you will enjoy it! Please review if you take pleasure in this chapter. Love you all!

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Legolas dreamt that afternoon. He dreamt of the stars above, the sea, and the beautiful countenance of the Valar. Slowly, the mists of his reverie faded from his vision until he realized he was awake once more. Rolling his shoulders drowsily, he sat up in his bed and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looked with a peaceful gaze upon his talon. He’d built it himself a number of years ago. The bed and a small trunk of his belongings were all that rested on the flat wooden panel that was built into the winding branches of the tree. The many leaves coating the winding limbs of the beech domed over the living space and provided protection if rain should happen to fall on spring and summer nights.

A quarter of an hour later, the prince climbed down the silk ladder from his talon, attired in finer garments for the feast. He wore a pale tunic, embroidered with threads of silver, a golden circlet donning his brow.

He swiftly made his way back through the wood to the cavern of Thranduil once more. The afternoon’s sun had vanished, replaced with the pale moon. The forest lay quiet and dark, no longer bright and intense. Gaining closer ground towards the cavern domain, he could see lights twinkling just ahead. He strode onward seeing that a large and beautiful pavilion had been erected within a stone’s throw distance from the large cavern. The prince smiled. His father and mother had indeed gone above and beyond to make this feast enjoyable for him. The pavilion was only set up for the most wondrous of occasions such as weddings and majority feasts. Legolas was quite sure that within an hour’s time, the tent would be filled with all of the merry elves in the realm, dancing in their mirth long into the night. For now, however, it was time for the feast.

Walking toward the back entrance to the cavern, he could already hear laughter and chatter coming from within. Pushing back the velvet curtain in the small arched walkway leading inside, the smell of roast deer and wine immediately assailed his senses, awaking his hunger and thirst. Entering into the throne room, he caught sight of a few elves lounging near the King’s wooden seat, humming softly together. Upon noticing their prince they called,

“Prince Legolas! The people await you in the dining hall!” Smiling and thanking them politely, the prince made his way through an adjoining hallway towards the dining cavern. The buzz of many conversations and the smells swelled considerably as he rounded a corner. The dining cavern housed as many elves as he’d ever seen that evening. A large, writhing fire burned and crackled in the fire pit toward the rear. All were laughing and drinking wine merrily. Singing songs, and recounting the tales of old. The long, wooden table was as long as the entire room itself; which was considerably long. From end to end, it was laden with all the deities Legolas favored. Crimson wine, sweet luscious grapes, loaves of satisfying lembas, and in the center, lay the very deer he had shot the previous day, carved, cleaned, and roasted. His brief feeling of remorse brushed over him briefly, however, ‘twas instantly forgotten as he turned his gaze to the far end of the table.

At the head sat his father with his mother beside him. At either ends of the royal couple sat Culmîr to his father’s right, and little Galenril to his mother’s left. His brother seemed to be missing, however. Legolas smiled warmly at the sight of his family and made his way over to them. His father’s eyes were currently glinting blithely as he listened to his youngest child gloat over her ever sharpening archery skills. The King’s eyes shifted swiftly to his son approaching. Smiling warmly, he stood and held out his arms to enfold Legolas warmly.

“It seems time has passed most swiftly since you were but Galenril’s years.” Thranduil murmured quietly. The prince flushed slightly as he took a seat to Culmîr’s right. Seeing that their prince was amongst them, elves began to pass down the platters of fruit and deer down to him, and he hastily attempted to accept all that they offered him.

Looking down on his now full plate, he wondered how anyone could be expected to eat this much. He glanced up to see his father taking a bite of deer and winking encouragingly at him. Though he was loath to taste the deer he felt he had killed mercilessly , he hesitantly pierced a shredding of it with a knife and placed it into his mouth. He was surprised at its sweet taste.

“’Tis good, is it not?”

Legolas turned to his left to see Culmîr smiling at him.

“Yes, it is,” Legolas agreed, “I must admit, I did not believe I would enjoy it.” He then took a swallow from his goblet of wine in front of him, the heavy taste running through his veins immediately. The wine of Thranduil was, by far, the most alluring of all other wines. Setting down his wine, he noticed two elves approaching from the far end of the room. The leading elf was his brother Barasûl. The eldest of Thranduil and Lómësil had adopted his mother’s soft features and bright hair, though he resembled his father in countenance and manner. Noticing Legolas, he smiled a hearty smile that lifted his indigo eyes.

“Brother! How do you fare?” Barasûl bellowed as he sat down beside Galenril, and called down the table for wine. Before Legolas could answer, his mother inquired sternly,

“And just where have you been this past afternoon?”

Barasûl froze, his goblet halfway to his lips. He hastily lowered it back to the table and answered promptly.

“We were – ah – steed riding, mother. I allowed Thilion to ride Maethor, if that bodes with you father.”

Legolas noticed the King exchange a furtive glance with the queen.

“As long you fed and watered him afterwards. He is no longer a youthful colt such as yourselves.” Thranduil consented wearily.

Barasûl nodded.

“We did, I assure you.” The eldest prince then returned to his wine and meal.

It was then that Legolas first looked upon his brother’s companion. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized the strange elf was glaring directly at him! The elf had pale, silver hair, and light azure eyes that stayed locked upon the prince as the stranger took a casual sip of wine. Without parting his gaze, the elf inquired quietly to Barasûl,

“Are you not going to introduce me to your brother, Barasûl?”

Glancing up from his plate, Barasûl glimpsed to his companion, then to his brother before stammerin
“
“Oh – ah – Legolas, this is Thilion from Lothlórien. Thilion, this is my younger brother, Legolas.”

“Mae govannen,” Legolas spoke graciously and nodded.

“Always a pleasure to meet a prince, Legolas.” Thilion uttered softly, his light eyes casting a reflection of the burning fire in the fire pit. Legolas felt uneasy under the intense stare, wanting to somehow shield himself. He returned his attention to his meal, and tried earnestly to listen and participate in the conversation his mother, father, and Culmîr were having pleasantly. Legolas bit his bottom lip worriedly as he found that his eyes kept reaching up to sneak a glance at the fair elf from the Golden Wood. Thilion’s appearance and manner were different than any other elf he had ever known. Where the Sindarin elves were bright and merry, Thilion was quiet and. . .Legolas could not find the word to describe the strange quality the elf possessed. Of a sudden, a word popped into the prince’s mind. . . .seductive. His heart hammered as he came to a realization of what he’d just thought. Oh sweet Eru. He hurriedly grabbed his goblet to down a few swallows of wine, struggling to hide his uneasiness. I shall not look at him for the rest of the meal, Legolas vowed to himself.

He looked up to see his mother scolding Galenril for spilling the contents of her plate onto the floor. To his left, he saw his father bidding Culmîr to try one of the plump, scarlet grapes. He began to grow desperate when he could find no means of distracting his gaze from where it obviously wanted to go. A wave of relief flooded over him, when his brother questioned,

“So, Legolas. I hope no tears were shed for this tasteful doe of yours,” he chuckled mischievously. Legolas’ tipped ears flushed pink at the statement, and felt reprieve when Culmîr came hurriedly to his defense.

“Actually, Barasûl, Legolas held his own quite well. Took her down in a single shot he did. He will be quite the warrior some day!”

“We shall see,” the prince’s elder brother mockingly complied, though a hint of pride for his sibling shone in his eyes. There had never been any hostility between the two eldest children of Thranduil, though each had had their share of tiffs with one another in the past.

“You shot her with a single arrow, ernil neth?” Thilion asked quietly yet interestedly, causing Legolas’ unease to return.

“Ah – I did, yes. . .why?” Legolas forced himself to look into the piercing stare.

“Well, it’s just that in my home of Lorien, we believe that to kill game with a single shot on your first hunt implies that you will have good fortune in life.” A corner of Thilion’s mouth tugged upward into an appreciative smirk. “Impressive. . .” he continued quietly, though it seemed as though he uttered the last part entirely to himself.

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The span of an hour later, the majority of the company had retreated to the outside pavilion for music and dance. The joyous melody of harps and laughter filled the air with a festive shimmer. The throng encircled a space where both ellon and elleth danced together in merriment. Legolas had consented to dance with a few doe-eyed young ladies out of courtesy and respect, yet he loathed dancing. Though his swift feet were ever ready to prepare himself for battle, he had never been able to dance well. It was all he could do to make sure he did not topple over, without the young elleths’ expectant gazes at him.

He stood now amongst the crowd smiling and clapping to the thrum of the tune. He laughed heartily as he watched his sister dance with his brother, who obviously looked as if he’d been forced into the situation. Scanning his eyes across the crowd he caught sight of Thilion dancing skillfully with a young elleth, who gazed up at him with adoration. In fact, the prince could not help but notice that many of the young elf-maidens had had their attentions fixed upon the mysterious elf from Lorien. Legolas looked on as the elf spun the maiden adeptly into a circle as the dance ended. He was indeed skilled on the dancefloor, the prince noted.

As the night grew older, Legolas began to relax and enjoy himself a tad more. Towards the end of the evening, he’d been congratulated by many friends and laughed until he was weary. Finally deciding to retire for the evening, his eyes scanned the pavilion for either of his parents to bid them good night. His eyes quickly found his mother speaking to another elleth, and he began to make his way toward her. He was waylaid however, when Thilion appeared in his path.

“Enjoying your celebration, ernil?” the elf questioned and looked down at him. Legolas felt slightly more uncomfortable when he realized that Thilion was a smidgen taller than him, therefore, forcing him to gaze up at him when replying,

“Very much so, Thilion, and you?”

“Very much so. . .” he replied quietly. There was something about this elf that made Legolas extremely anxious. When he made no move to let the prince pass, he ventured,

“You are quite skilled in the art of dancing, Thilion.”

“You are welcome to notice, ernil.” A slender eyebrow of Thilion’s raised in amusement.

Legolas’ eyes widened then. The statement the elf had made was completely candid and unsettling.

“Excuse me,” Legolas hurriedly moved past him, no longer worrying about being rude.

Sighing as he reached his mother, he smiled and thanked her for a wonderful feast and evening. Returning the smile, she replied,

“Oh, my son, you are indeed most welcome. However, you should thank your Adar, it was his idea to include raising the pavilion.”

“Where is he, Nana?” Legolas asked. He had only just realized that he had not seen his father in some time.

He could see the queen’s eyes rove the crowd behind him with a furrowed brow before she answered,

“I do not see him, Legolas. But I am sure he is within the crowd.” She gave a tiny apologetic grin before embracing her son good night. Legolas then retreated and made his way back through the crowd, searching for his father. He soon came upon Barasûl who was standing toward the edge of the tent, a frown upon his face.

“Barasûl, have you seen Ada of late?” His brother seemed annoyed at the sudden intrusion of his thoughts and answered as if from another world.

“He excused himself earlier to bed. Bade me tell you he was tired.”

Well this was indeed odd. King Thranduil departing from a celebration before the light of dawn touched upon the forest? Ignoring his brother’s foul mood he made his way out of the tent and into the forest.

The air turned quiet and still as the sounds of the festivity faded behind him. A cool night wind brushed through the air, calming the prince’s senses and allowing him to breathe easily and effortlessly. He strode off to the area left of the cavern, seeking his parent’s abode. The royal family’s talon was two levels; both on the ground and built up and into the trees. To unfamiliar eyes, it would look as a small castle intertwined within the trees. He’d decided to see if his ada was well, his his leaving of the celebration so quickly and secretively was indeed strange.

Making his way through the entrance, he gazed around in the still, silence of his former home. He had lived here since his birth until he’d neared his coming of age, and then he’d built a talon of his own where he could reside alone.

Once he sure that his adar did not dwell in the living area on the lower level, he began to ascend spi spiral wooden staircase leading to his parent’s room. Reaching the next level, he caught sight of the bedchamber door. It was slightly ajar, and he noticed that a dull, orange light flickered silently around the edges of it. Venturing very quietly closer, he stood against the door, careful not to open it further and peered inside.

His breath caught in his throat quietly yet harshly. Nothing in all of Middle-earth could prepare him for what he saw. Nothing.

His father sat nude upon the bed, emitting low moans and mutterings endearments. Atop him was another, also nude. . . . . .another ellon. The other elf seemed to be sitting astride him with his back turned towards the King, moaning softly and each sigh was coated with desire. His long dark hair fell down into his face, obscuring his identity. They rocked forward and back together in silent love making, yet their actions screamed of passion. Thranduil ran his hands up along the back of the ellon and tucked the midnight tresses away from the other’s faceposiposing the side of his neck. The King then nglyngly and tenderly kissed the ellon’s neck, his constant endearments becoming louder and more insistent as their pace increased. Legolas gripped the doorframe in fear, anger, and insane curiosity as he recognized the other with whom his father was coupling. Culmîr. The darkling elf, whom he’d once seen as a second father threw his head back and groaneddly,dly, arching into the King’s embrace.

“Culmîr. . . Culmîr nîn. . .meleth nîn. . .” Legolas could now decipher his father’s mutterings.

Together they moved. Pure, affectionate love making causing their bodies to glow with an ethereal flame.

Culmîr’s hair, which was usually bound behind his head, now lay in cascading locks across his shoulders, matted with sweat around his forehead. Thranduil’s glowing golden mane spread down the darkling elf’s shoulder as he continuedadmiadministrate kisses along the other’s neck. Of a sudden, each sighed and shuddered simultaneously, ceasing their movements, and relaxing into one another’s embrace.

With that, Legolas turned and fled quietly back down the staircase; horror, anger, and a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach tugging at his senses and drowning him in emotion. How could his father have done so? How could he couple with another, when he was bound to his wife?! And why was he participating in such acts with Culmîr, his closest friend, and an ellon as well!

What? Why? How? The questions raged through the prince, nearly sending him into a swoon.

This will continue. . .

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I’ve got plenty more to write, it’s just that I have a terrible migraine right now, so I’ll finish this part probably tomorrow morning. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and reviews are very helpful. Cheers.