Golden One: Story of a Prince

Confusion, uncertainty, insanity, rage, distress. Legolas simply fled. He rushed away from his family’s home and into the night, blind to all things apart from the tainted memory.

Culmîr nîn. . .meleth nîn. . .

Their willowy, masculine figures melded together in harmonic passion. Culmîr’s hair, unbridled and free, basking amongst his muscled shoulders. His father’s complete and utter devotion to his closest friend and a male as well.

Two ellon, why Eru? Why?! And his father!

It was a long while before Legolas found that he had ceased walking and was now slumped against a pale beech tree. His temples pounded with a dull ache. Rubbing his face, he drew a shaky sigh and exhaled slowly, attempting to stifle the confused, heated moan writhing within his throat. He drew his hands before his face, and noticed them to be trembling slightly. Never before, had the young prince been so unsettled. Leaning his head back to rest against the tree, Legolas closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to calm his anxious spirit, and struggling to become one with the forest.

Soon, the forest began to take in its kindred and welcome the prince into its silent embrace. The thrumming roar in his ears died, and his breath slowed. Fluttering his eyes opened, he peered into the softened evening, gazing at nothing in particular.

His eyes widened.

Someone watched him.

The princeling thrust himself away from the tree with almost ungainliness, and glanced to his right. His heart slowed once more. ‘Twas only his naneth. . . .Oh dear Valar, his naneth! I must tell her, yet I cannot! Her heart will surely break! Legolas backed away from her then, as an animal does when cornered.

“Legolas, I saw you dash into the woods, looking troubled. You look as if you’ve seen a balrog!” His naneth smiled and half chuckled. Her beautiful, nurturing face warm with concern. Legolas held his tongue, knowing full well the information he held would tear the warmness of her features away to be left with anguish and grief. Yet, it was his duty to tell her. Confliction stabbed through his very essence.

The queen must have seen the variance in her son’s eyes, for she walked closer.

“My son, has something happened? You must tell me.”

Her words were quiet and full of worry, yet commanding.

“I. . . . .I cannot. .I mean. . . .” he helplessly trailed as his mother came still closer to him. He no longer retreated from her.

“You can tell me, Legolas.” They stood close enough so as she could whisper.

Memories of his past flooded into the prince’s mind at that statement. He remembered the day of his twenty-third date of birth, and how he’d accidentally set his adar’s stallion loose from his paddock. Though fear had torn through him as a knife, he had been able to tell his naneth. He remembered during his forty-second year of life, when he’d broken the expertly crafted bow his adar and gifted to him, he loathed facing his father, yet he had been able to tell his naneth. His naneth had always been there for him and always would. He would tell her. Taking a shuddering breath, Legolas weakly began,

“I – I saw something. In – In your bedroom. Something I was never meant to see. I’ve no doubt it was not meant for anyone to see.” He looked down into his naneth’s questioning eyes.

“What did you see?” Caution and speculation lined her tone. The prince closed his eyes briefly and opened them once more. And now it would be revealed.

“I saw father with another. Another male. ‘Twas Culmîr. They were making love as an ellon and elleth do.” If the forest had been silent before, the memory of it was nothing but a dim echo of what hushed stillness covered the wood now. His eyes had been raking the forest floor as he had confessed his knowledge, and he now ventured his eyes to gaze upon his mother. He mentally prepared himself for her baffled and hurt expression.

Her eyes had widened in surprise and yet. . . .There was no sadness nor sorrow in them. Only. . .surprise and concern. For him. In the name of Elbereth, why does she show concern for me?! Why is she not crying in despair over her lost herven?

Queen Lómësil heaved a heavy sigh, and looked downward, shame now gracing her features. Without looking into the eyes of her son, she took one of his hands in her own and stroked it lovingly with her other hand.

“Legolas, hun nîn. There is much we must speak of.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed in perplexity as a cool night breeze cut through the air, though neither elf took notice of its chill.

“What do you mean?” Legolas questioned her. He began to feel the dull ache behind his eyes again.

A long while passed before his naneth spoke. She merely continued to caress his hand tenderly, seeming to ponder her next words. At great length, she looked up into his eyes.

“Legolas, has your father ever told you of how we first met?”

Baffled bewilderment shuddered through the prince as he retorted,

“Naneth, what has that to do with what I have said?!”

“Just tell me,” she softly persisted. Legolas clenched his jaw, and gazed into the distance before hesitantly replying,

“He told me that he first came upon you in Lothlórien, your home then.”

“Aye,” she nodded, smiling at the memory. “’Twas my home so long ago. . .Your father and the Lord Celeborn, they are kinsman, did you know?”

“Yes” Legolas answered softly. She continued as if she had not heard him,

“I remember, he was there to discuss his newly inherited rulership of Greenwood with the Lord and Lady. We became friends. . .” Her eyes were lost to the memory. “During his visit, we were much in each other’s company. We even maintained our friendship through written correspondence after he had returned home. And your father would return to the Golden Wood to visit. me now and then”

Legolas nodded impatiently, not quite understanding the reason for this reminiscence.

“Yes, your courtship.” He affirmed.

Lómësil’s eyes lowered in discomfiture.

“That is what many believed, and we did not persuade them otherwise,” she confessed so softly that had Legolas been a mere mortal, he would not have been able to distinguish her words.

“What?” The prince questioned in the same soft tone, though he could not keep his voice from shaking.

“’Twas true our relationship had grown and blossomed until we cared very deeply for one another. Though that was its extent. We were the closest of friends Legolas. So close that your father entrusted me with a secret. A secret he had revealed to no one besides myself and one other.”

A new wave of questions flooded into Legolas’ mind. Yet his previous inquiries had still not been answered. Shaking his head in disbelief, he asked,

“What secret?”

“The secret was. . .” she continued hesitantly, “was that your adar did not desire the touch of elleth.”

Legolas found himself relating to his father, for he himself had never felt any inclination of bedding a maiden. He waited patiently for his naneth to carry on.

“He desired such from ellon.”

At this, the prince felt himself beginning to slump against the tree again. He’d noticed as much from seeing his father with a male that evening, yet the sheer strangeness of it still perplexed him.

Lómësil caught her son’s eyes and locked her gaze with his, attempting to calm him.

“Now, Legolas, the relationship between two of the same masculinity and femininity is not at all unheard of in Middle-earth, nor by the Valar. It is simply a quality that some posses.” Her eyes shifted, laying themselves in thought. “The dwarves encourage it, that I am sure of. For the race of men, I have indeed heard of instances, yet I believe it his held in somewhat lower regard.”

“And elves?” Legolas prompted.

“For elves, ‘tis simply a normality. Of course it is not as common as a relationship between an ellon and elleth, but ‘tis certainly understood and respected.”

Legolas’ mind reeled. Instead of his questions being answered, more seemed to sprout up.

“Naneth,” he argued, “if it is a normality, as you say, then why did Adar tell no one of his preferences but to you and this ‘other’? And why have I never known of it?”

Lómësil looked overhead, above the canopy of leaves and into the stars, sighing.

“The answer to your first question, my son, is that your adar kept his preference a secret for the good of his people.” She lowered her head to gaze at her son once more. “Naming himself King of Northern Greenwood, he wished faith and trust from his people. Yet they were ever worried, for your father; he had no wife, no heir. No one to take his place if by chance he should fall into death should an orc brigand or the like, Eru forbid, attack his domain. For where would they be without a King, and no heir to take his place? They would be leaderless, and without guidance, driven by fear. And so, Thranduil did not reveal that he had no wish to bond with a maiden and therefore, produce more of his lineage.”

Legolas swallowed, awaiting his mother to reveal the rest of this tale. His sapphire eyes fixated upon her, hanging upon every word she said.

“And yet, as the years progressed, their unease of his bachelorism became more profound. Your adar grew troubled, knowing that if he wished to encompass the utter trust of his subjects, he would have to make a sacrifice.”

Legolas roved his eyes to his mother’s hand to see her twirling her binding ring around her forefinger. Suddenly, he understood.

“And so, nearly three thousand years ago, your adar journeyed once last time to Lórien and in the Lord and Lady’s presence, he asked me to bind myself to him. . . .and I consented.”

“Did you love him?” the prince asked quietly.

“Yes, I did. And he loved me. Our friendship was unsurpassed. He had told me of his plight. His wish to gain the love and trust of his people by taking a wife, and I wished to help him.”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Legolas questioned warily,

“Nana, who was the other with whom father had entrusted his secret?” Though even as the prince uttered these words, he knew. “Culmîr.” He stated, answering himself.

His mother smiled and nodded, “Yes, Culmîr. He and your father have been lovers for years beyond count. Before your adar had even known me.” She paused before continuing, “Of course, out of respect for me, your adar had told me that he would not socialize with Culmîr in such ways again if I agreed to marry him. I can still remember the utter pain in his eyes as he spoke this. They loved one another, Legolas, and still do to this day. Not even the most selfish being could stand in the way of such love. And so I said to your adar, ‘Thranduil, he is the heart of your heart. Many persons search ages to find such compassion. You would be a fool to give such a blessing away, and I would be a fool to ask you to.’ And so we married. Our people were glad. And Thranduil and Culmîr have secretly held their liaison intact ever since.” A slight wind carried a silver tendril of hair into her eye, and she brushed it away while continuing. “Also, my son, you are now the only soul, besides your adar, Culmîr, and I that knows of their relationship. Your gwanur and muinthel do not know of this. I’m quite sure your adar would appreciate it greatly if you did not tell any other of this. As I said, it would not be found distasteful, yet he would not wish his people to know that he had lied to them, no matter how long ago it was.” Lómësil walkalmlalmly to her son and placed a hand upon his shoulder, silently consoling him. He nodded in assent, and then stared out into nothing, lost in reflection. His eyes turned to her, confusion in them once more.

“You never answered my second question, Naneth.” The queen’s mind reflected upon the conversation, finally understanding what it was her son wished to know.

“You desire to learn why you had never before heard of same gender relationships?”

Legolas gave a single, tiny nod.

“Well, my son, that is another tale unto itself. However, I have already revealed much to you this night, I suppose I must tell you all there is to be revealed.” She smiled wanly and began.

“A number of years after our marriage, your adar and I bedded one another.”

Legolas’ ears flushed slightly pink at this, his eyes no longer meeting her gaze.

“A year and one half later, Barasûl was born. And from the moment of his birth, we were completely and utterly honest with him, about everything. . . .including the relationships of two of the same gender. And for a long while, we were content. Your father had his heir, and I had a wonderful son to raise. However, as time passed we realized that your gwanur resembled your adar in more ways than one.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Legolas’ eyes widened in astonishment.

“Barasûl? He desires. . . .?”

Lómësil nodded solemnly.

Once again, the dull ache in the young prince’s head began to thrum. His brother desired those of his own kind! Legolas had no doubt that under any other circumstances, his jaw would have dropped open in astonishment, however he had seemingly begun to feel somewhat numb after the initial shock of is father’s preferences. And as he thought there, leaning against the tree, certain reflections of his brother’s behavior in the past began to come to mind. He realized that he had never seen his brother’s eyes gaze over an elleth’s form appreciatively or speak of a maiden he particular desired. No, the only company Barasûl chiefly encompassed himself in was that of ellon! At the time, Legolas had thought nothing out of the ordinary, for he did not particularly demonstrate a weakness for elleth either. However, now looking back, his brother’s inclinations were nothing short of obvious.

His mother went on with her story, despite his ashen expression.

“He even informed us of his desires when he was of his twentieth year. At the time, I could tell that your adar was disappointed, for he knew that Barasûl would never produce children; heirs. Yet, hope was not lost. Barasûl could yet become an eligible heir in his time. You see, Legolas, the time will come eventually when your adar and I will feel the pull of Valinor in our veins. We will wish to pass over the sea, and a great deal of our realm is sure to accompany us. However, there will be a select few, who will still feel a bond with Middle-earth aish ish to remain here a while longer. It will be then, that the heir of your adar must take their place as ruler. They must remain here to rule until the very last elf passes West. After having known your gwanur your whole life, can you see Barasûl in this position?”

Legolas thought for a moment. He had always assumed that Barasûl would travel to far off places one day. He had always known, for his brother oft spoke of one day venturing off to Lindon, and Lórien, and even the Númenórean city of Gondor. He knew Barasûl would indeed live unhappily should he be obligated to remain in Northern Greenwood to pass over with the last of his father’s people.

“Nay, I cannot. He longs to travel Middle-earth, Naneth.” He told his mother.

“Precisely, my son. Your adar and I loved Barasûl dearly and we did not wish him to be unhappy. And so it was. . .we decided to have another child; another heir.”

The prince’s eye widened as he realized it was now he whom she was speaking of.

Acknowledging, her son’s questioning look, she answered,

“Yes, you were born Legolas. However, ai, this was also the time your adar and I made mistakes. Fearing that we would lose yet another successor, we decided that it would be best if you were not aware of the liaisons of two ellon. Indeed we were lucky, for there are but only a few in our Kingdom who posses such desire. We went to them, explaining that we wished you to take a wife in your later years and were currently unaware of these specific preferences. And as a kindness to us, they not not openly express their affections, but kept them in the privacy of their homes.” She suddenly quieted, “I am sorry we were not honest with you, my son.” Her voice died into a whisper.

“Why did Barasûl never mention this to me?”

“We told him you were not to know of ellon relationships, and so your adar bade him swear an oath never to tell you.” The corners of the queen’s mouth twitched up into a kindly grin.

After the prince was silent for a few moments in thought, Lómësil lovingly held her son’s face with her palm.

“Legolas, I know how hard it must be for you to take in all of this. I cannot imagine what it must be like. But I would like you to know that you are deeply loved by your family. I, your adar, Barasûl. . . .Culmîr, and little Galenril.”

Light anger had coated Legolas’ mind when his mother had told him of the secrets that had been so long held from him. Slowly though, his anger dissipated when he realized their reasons for doing so. ‘Twas true what she said. His family did love him, and they had in no way intended to hurt him. Reflecting upon his mother’s last statement, his brow creased.

“Naneth, do you and Adar not believe that I will prove a sufficient successor?”

“What would make you deem this, my son?”

“You gave birth to Galenril but twelve years past. You must not believe me worthy if you had chosen to birth another child.”

The queen gave an exasperated sigh before speaking.

“Legolas, our reasons for bringing Galenril into this world were far different from those that brought you and your brother into it.”

“And what were they?” the prince persisted. “You told me that you would reveal to me all there is.” He swiftly reminded her.

“Very well,” she consented. “As you know, every year on my date of birth celebration, your adar bestows upon me the most lavish of gifts. And one particular day, little less than fourteen years ago, and a few months before my said celebration, your adar came to me and asked what it was that I most desired. Truth be told, there was something for which I had longed for lately, though I knew your adar would not wish to gift me with it. And that is precisely what I told him. Yet, he persisted, continuingly asking what it was that I wished. Finally I relented and revealed that what I had most yearned for of late was. . . .a sweet young maiden to raise and to call mine own. After being shocked into silence for a time, Thranduil, being the kind ellon he is, consented without question. And we laid together one last time. He, afterward, prayed to the Valar to grant us a daughter. . . . . . .And so they did.”

Legolas nodded understandingly, his mind eventually clearing. He had begun to accept the preferences that his father and brother preferred, yet ‘twas still rather alien to him.

“Naneth?”

“Hmm?”

“May I ask you one last question?”

“Anything, my son.”

“Do you ever regret your life? Not ever attaining my adar’s love that he shares with Culmîr?”

“And who’s to say that I’ve never had love or desire?” The queen smiled then rather wickedly. “Legolas, I was e a e a great, long time before I even knew your adar. You must trust me. I have no regrets. I have a husband who is my most trusted of friends, and I would surely fade if he passed, and I’ve no doubt that he feels the same. I also have three children, whom I love more than mine own self. No, meleth, there is nothing I regret.”

Silence fell upon them once more before another word was spoken. Yet this time, it was the queen’s turn to question her son.

“Legolas, may I now ask you something of you?”

Legolas nodded vaguely.

“This is something that your adar and I have been pondering for quite a time now. We wish to know if you would willingly accept becoming the official successor to Northern Greenwood. Is there any young maiden you would wish to take as wife?”

The prince’s heart began to pound in his chest. He was afraid to tell her. Reluctantly, he mutely shook his head.

“There is none?” she questioned. The stone look in her son’s eyes told her such. “Do you – that is – do you long for the touch of an ellon?” Her voice was nothing but a tender murmur.

Legolas knew he did not wish to marry, yet did he desire males? He did not believe so. He had never dwelt on the thought his entire life.

“I don’t – I mean – I don’t believe so. . .” his voiced trailed off helplessly.

Lómësil nodded understandingly.

“I see. Would you then, remain in Greenwood to rule if your adar should happen to be killed, Valar forbid, or pass over West?” Her tone was gentle yet inquisitive.

The prince thought of a life in Greenwood. Never leaving, but simply ruling in his home until he would eventually pass into a world across the sea that he had never known before. Surprised at himself, he found the thought rather disappointing. Perhaps he did wish for adventure, and far away lands. He’d never yet journeyed to Imladris, home of the Master Elrond, son of Eärendil the Mariner.

Looking up, he saw the understanding in his mother’s eyes.

“You will wish to journey. To depart from Greenwood. That is your desire, is it not?”

Legolas did not speak, simply nodded.

“Yet, Naneth, if it is truly needed of me, I will stay - ”

Lómësil held up a hand to keep his proffers at bay.

“Nonsense, my son. You will go and will have adventures in your life. I can see it. You will meet another one day, and you will find love. I do not posses the gift of foresight, such as the most gifted of the Eldar are graced with, yet a Naneth can occasionally see a small light in their children’s future. Yours will be a good love, Legolas. I have also foreseen that Galenril will make a respectful queen of Greenwood. ”

The prince smiled at his mother. Galenril would surely accept the right to be heiress. Her heart was always with the forest. The anxiety seemed to slide off his shoulders.

Sighing, the queen uttered,

“I am weary. You must be also, my young golden one. Go, and get thee rest.”

Legolas allowed himself to be lovingly held for a moment by his mother before he departed into the forest to retreat to bed. His mind and body swam with fatigue, yet he knew he would find no sleep that night. . . . .

This Will Be Continued. . . . .

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If you have read this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Please review, it makes me happy. Even though it’s not quite yet Saturday, I wish you all a good weekend.