Faded Light: Book II

(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see top of Chapter 1.)



= Here is another one with Thranduil; just a little father, son heart to heart between Thranduil and Feredir, and a short Legolas, Mel scene at the end... I haven’t had as much of Thranduil as I’d like in this story, but there should be at least one or two more scenes with him coming up...enjoy this one and thanks in advance for the r and r... =



 

Chapter 33



Adar hon Emel Pt. 2

“...Ion Nin, it’s late...what are you still doing here?” The King was surprised to come upon anyone during one of his too-frequent nocturnal vigils, as he entered the Royal wing’s private library...



“I thought I’d go over these maps again...” said the younger Elf, glancing up from the table where he was leaning over a section of the area where the Orcs had recently attacked...



“...that work is done,” said the Elvenking. “Those Orcs have been dealt with...you should go get some rest now...”



“You’re probably right...” Feredir took a deep breath and took a step from the table.



“But sleep hasn’t been coming so easily of late,” he said, “it’s better if I have something to do...”



His father frowned, “Bad dreams...”



“Old dreams...” the younger shrugged and gazed back at his map, rearranging some of the different colored markers representing Mirkwood’s warriors.



Thranduil did not have to ask for any other explanation. He had known the dark things that had haunted his elder son’s nightmares since he was a child; though it had always seemed that he had been too young to actually remember the Orc attack on the Silvan village where he had lived, as an infant, with his birth parents.



Feredir and Palanel, his colindo, had both been nearly killed then...Feredir himself still carried the scar of that day, even after all these centuries though it had by now become faded enough to hardly be noticed most of the time...when Inthenin, his sire had fallen only a few years later, it was finally too much for Palanel and he Sailed...



To think there had been a time he really had hated Palanel, mused the King, for reasons that seemed now like such senseless spite...



“...it had probably been centuries since I’d dreamed about it as often,” said the younger Elf.



“...I think seeing those burned out villages in Rohan brought some of it back,” he admitted. “And the past fortnight hunting those Orcs...”



He shrugged again. and raised an eyebrow, looking at his father, “...but should I ask why you’re here at this hour?”



The King waved away the look his son sent his way and smiled a little, “Elrond and Mereniel and even Vaurna have been trying to get me with that look for thirty years...” he said.



He moved away for a moment and came back with two warm cups of something and handed one to the younger Elf and took a seat in one of the chairs beside the desk...



“Galion makes sure there’s a tea tray here every night,” he explained.



“I sleep when I need to...” he went on. “It’s not something I’ve ever needed much of anyway.”



He smiled again, “It used to annoy Thalielwen quite a bit, for about the first fifty years after we married, when I would work late and then was up with the sun...



“I think it’s a habit I never managed to shake from all those years during the Last Alliance...” a dark shadow passed over his face at the memory of that war, where so many of their kin had fought and fallen, pushing aside the memory that had fleetingly caused him to smile



“Worry not about me, Ion Nin,” he said, seeing the frown on his son’s face. “It really is not as bad as it once was...at least, it has not gotten much worse in some time...”



“...I am glad to hear that, Ada...”



The King stood again and moved to rekindle the fire and stopped, looking at something on the far wall...Feredir followed the King’s gaze and saw where his mind had gone...



“...it got too hard to look at it,” said the King before his son could say anything. “Your grandfather asked to keep it...”



Feredir had seen the new painting when he sat in here alone earlier, the landscapes that had replaced the portrait that had hung in here for over a hundred years...the picture of Legolas, dressed in the dark green tunic of a first decade’s Novice Warrior...



He remembered how proud the Prince had been of his new status, which he had longed for centuries to reach...and the morning he at last got to wear his new uniform; Feredir had helped plait his brother’s hair into the warrior’s braids that day before the ceremony...



Maybe it wasn’t just having needed to search for his brother or that his relationship with his father had become so strained all this time, which had kept him away, Feredir realized; the loss hurt now as much as it had that first year, and it was more constant and harder to ignore here than a thousands of miles and two kingdoms away...



The King moved back to the table and looked down at what Feredir had been busy with...



“Now,” he said, gesturing to the map, “show me what you were working on here.”



...and trying to bury his pain, thought his elder son, in some more immediate matter thing concern; it was the same impenetrable grief that neither of them had ever been able to find their way through since Legolas had been gone.



“I spoke with Leralonde and Hirgon earlier,” he said, looking back down at the map, grateful as much as the King for the chance to focus on something else, “and they both think there’s not enough attention to these far posts,”



“I was thinking we could reassign some of the warriors from here or here; these are not the most strategically important areas, so they could be replaced when Uruviel’s next class graduates in the summer...”



But then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his father surprised him...



“...you are troubled, Nin Ion...” he said, “and it is not only old dreams...



“I have seen it...something more weights on you mind that was not there when you first came home...”



The younger Elf thought about what he and Ruthlagor had talked about; of the things he had learned about his brother...it had been weighing painfully on his mind, but he knew he could not add to his father’s grief...



He decided on a half-truth and hoped it would be enough...



“It is being back here,” he said, “it is too full of memory...everywhere I look, I can see him still...as an Elfling, running through every hall, as he looked the last time I saw him...



“I wanted to believe that after all this time it would not hurt so much...” he trailed off and shrugged, feeling as helpless as he had all those years ago, when he had sent the bodies of their fallen warrior’s back to the King and had gone himself after the marauders, to find no trace of his brother...



it seemed since that day, he had never stopped chasing them...he was lucky, he thought, that the wife he finally found had turned out to be the most understanding Elleth on Arda...



“Ada,” the younger began uncertainly, looking at his father again, “I know that before I left I said many things to you I should not have...”



“They were words spoken in anger,” said the King. “You loved your brother...and you were right, maybe if I had tried harder to find him, if I had done more...”



“You should not blame yourself; you know that he would not want you to...



“He was my brother,” he said gazing down at the maps again, “but he was your son...your only true son...”



“You are my son, Feredir. As much as any son of my blood...” reaching out, he lifted the younger Elf’s chin until the grey eyes met his own. “It was so, from the time Thalielwen brought you here...never let yourself think otherwise.”



He smoothed his son’s hair gently, as he used to when Feredir was an Elfling though such gestures with his eldest had been abandoned by the time he began his training as a Novice Warrior and disliked being treated like a child. Legolas had been different though, being the youngest in the entire family and the last child Thranduil would raise, he had remained his father’s Little Leaf ...too much overprotected perhaps...



He was sure Thalielwen would have thought so. Loving mother though she had been to both their sons, the Queen’s Woodelf temperament had never allowed her to be an overly spoiling parent...



“You may not have been born under my roof,” he went on, “but you are as much my son as Legolas...if ever I caused you to feel differently or unintentionally pushed you away in the midst of my own grief...”



“You didn’t,” he assured his father. “From the first day I came here, you have been my father...I have little memory of anyone else...”



“Palanel and Inthenin loved you more than anything,” said the King, “if they could not stay, it was not by choice...”



“I know, but I barely remember them.” The younger smiled, “When I think back most of my memories are here...and I do not think I would have been the same person were it not for you and Nana...



“...I remember the day Naneth came for me,” he said lost in a more than thousand year old memory, “though I did not think of her as Naneth yet...I used to call her Aunt Lili...” He laughed, “I guess Thalielwen was a bit of a mouthful for a toddler...



“It was the two of you who were there when I had a bad dream or got hurt in some childish recklessness and who taught me to ride and shoot my first bow...”



“We had little experience with Elflings, you know,” said the King. “And I am not the most emotionally effusive person; I was terrified I would make a terrible parent...”



He smiled and squeezed his father’s shoulder affectionately, “I think everyone feels that way...I used to panic in the beginning every time I heard Ithilhen start crying...it’s a good thing children can’t tell when you’re unsure of yourself...



“...you know, Ada,” he said, serious once more, “that I cannot give up my search...not until I know if my brother is not longer alive on Arda...”



“Iston...and I cannot make you do otherwise... I understand that now...”



“...but I know...how bad things are here, so Alatariel and I thought we might stay for a while; though I doubt one more warrior really will make much difference...”



“This has always been your home, Ion Nin. I would be happy to have you and your family, back here...



“And I’ve never really thought Human lands were a proper place to raise Elflings...” he said lightly, as he turned back to the map...



“...Ada,” said the younger after another minute, “there is something else I want to speak with you about...it’s about Benain...”



“Saes, don’t you start on that too, Ion Nin...Benain is a very dear child, but he is not Legolas faer somehow returned to Arda...or any of the other odd notions some have come up with since he’s been here...



“I don’t know what it is Meldamiriel has been imbibing out in the wilds...but that is not a point I have any desire to argue any further...” said the King with finality...



“...as you wish, Ada; though that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to talk about...I think you’re right, I don’t believe he is my brother returned either...



“Tariel and I, however, wanted your leave to adopt Benain...if we aren’t able to find any of his relatives...”



“I have no objections of course,” said the King, straightening up and taking a deep breath, as he thought of his previous conversation with Elrond and all the questions that kept coming up about that child, questions he was not sure he would ever find the courage to confront. “Once we’ve ascertained he has no family left in Middle Earth willing to take responsibility...



“You know,” he said after another moment, “it is rather late and there is no reason this can’t wait until tomorrow. We’ll call in Leralonde and see what he thinks...



“I’m sure you’re wife would appreciate not spending the entire night alone...” he added.



Feredir looked at his father pointedly, “...I’ll retire,” he said, “if you promise you won’t stay up all night either...”



The King looked like wanted to argue but then just nodded and gave in, “Yes, all right...I think it might be one of those nights I might actually get some sleep...”





=================================

 

“What are those for, Ada?” asked the child, entering the small room and watching as her father carefully lit the candles one at a time.



“...seven candles,” he said softly, “in memory of friends who wait in Mandos...”



“...but there are eight there...”



He was quiet for a long moment, watching the flames and thinking of each fallen warrior the candles represented, before he answered, “The last one is for my naneth, who also dwells in the Halls of Waiting...”



He turned to his Elfling standing beside him and smiled now, smoothing her unruly hair; more than anyone, he had always thought, it was her ind-nana she most looked like.



Though he had been younger than Mel when his mother passed from this world, his childish remembrances of her had always stayed with him.



Her hair had been as black as Mel’s though she never allowed hers to be out of place, and her eyes, a rare kind of blue-violet among Elfkind which sometimes made her eyes seem to be a darker shade, and she was as tall as the King with a regal bearing though not of Royal blood herself; he remembered watching the stars beside her while she would sing...



“She was a Woodelf and a very brave warrior...” he said.



“Really...?”



There were so many things he would have liked to tell her not only about her grandmother but about where she really came from, but knew he couldn’t yet...though Valar willing she would learn of her true heritage in time...



“Did you finish the passage I gave you?” he asked as they left the little room he had years ago converted into a private iaun, a meditation room, and moved back into his bedchamber...he hadn’t realized it had gotten so late sitting alone, trying to order his thoughts while he left Mel working on her Tengwar...



“Yes, Ada.



“Ada, can I stay with you tonight?” asked the Elfling bouncing on his bed as he looked over the parchments where she had copied an excerpt about the final days of Numenor...



A ‘not tonight’ was on the tip of his tongue, which she apparently sensed, and he saw her face begin to fall in disappointment...



“All right,” he said, reconsidering; he had this night to himself after all...and after Horondor, Valar only knew how long they might be parted...he knew there was only so much left of their time together...



“I’ll send Numair to tell your Nana and to bring some of your nightclothes...” he said putting aside the parchments and moving to the door.



“Will you tell me a story?” asked the Elfling, cheerful again, as he came back a moment later from giving his brief message to the Haradrim servant.



He smiled, “How about I tell you the story of how King Thranduil met his Queen?” he said, the tale coming to his mind, that he had so often asked to hear himself when young, from almost anyone in the family who had the patience to keep retelling it...



“Thalielwen was a warrior maid and the daughter of one of King Oropher’s advisors,” he began, “but she and Thranduil, who was still only the Crown-prince, did not yet know each other for she had always lived away from Court...



“It was near the end of the Second Age, when one day, some of the King’s warriors encountered a pack of Orcs in the forest...”

 

TBC...





Elvish Translations:





Adar hon Emel / Father's Heart



Ion Nin / My son

Colindo / Bearer (In this context, Feredir’s birth father.)



Adar, Ada / Father, dad, daddy



Iston / I know



Saes / Please



Faer / Soul

Ind-nana, Ind-naneth / Grandmother (Adapted from Indyo, meaning “grandchild” or “descendant” in Quenya. I’ve been playing around with the existing Elvish words for family and coming up with some for the terms Tolkien didn’t invent.)



Iaun / sanctuary, holy place, meditation room