The Half Breeds

Author: Bird
Title: The Half Breeds
Chapter: Arrival…
Rating: NC-17 over all (in later chapters)
Pairings: Let’s see, all the normal ones…Haldir/OFC, Legolas/OFC, TWINS/OFC…Thranduil/OFC…Various OMCs/OFCs…etc…
Warnings: Some sexuality…
Disclaimer: I own the OCs … but not much else…
Summary: Most of the Elves have sailed, but there are still quite a few left…Haldir is lonely. Elladan and Elrohir are bored. Legolas wishes to escape his home. Rumil and Orophin wish to find bed partners. The Avari want to be heard…
Timeline: Post War of the Ring during the early-ish/mid Forth Age (no exact date will be given)
Setting: Endore (otherwise known as Middle Earth, and basically the whole of Arda.) All places will be in their elvish names as this story is completely from Elven points-of-view.
Betas: Amy and Kath (the sweet dears putting up with my ADD and constantly changing mind…:P)

AN:

Cuind – is another Avarin word created by Tolkien, I am using it as the name of the Avari tribe living in the jungles of Harad under Morwë’s brother’s leadership…so far we have Hwenti (Carniwen’s original tribe), Kinn-Lai (Morwë’s desert dwelling tribe) and the Cuind…(just a reminder so one is not confused…;) )

Forodwaith – the icy lands in the north of middle earth…also known as one of the last dwelling places of the dragons, and also where they came from. Angband was situated on the border…

Urewe – means ‘hot one’

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Ironclad feathered hooves pounding the earth
On an October’s day, toward evening…
(Jethro Tull, Heavy Horses)
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Legolas was weary, in both mind and soul, and all he wished was to rest. Luckily for them, the High Pass was not yet snowed over, as winter was bearing down on them, but still open aiding in their travel.

Celegrod was crouched on his haunches, peering down at the valley below them. He had expressed a wish to climb a ways up the mountainside facing Imladris, wanting to see the valley from above. Some of the green remained, evergreens sprinkled through the fall-colored leaves, a patchwork quilt of foliage. And like the warmth of a quilt, he knew that the sons of Elrond would engulf them.

Leaping from his perch, Celegrod joined Legolas on a lower terrace of the mountain.

“We should be there before morning, but only if we ride hard.” Legolas nodded his agreement, handing the reins of his friend’s horse to him. After Celegrod was mounted, the prince looked to the sky.

“I smell snow. It will not be long before the High Pass is blocked,” Legolas guided his horse down along the rocky path. Stones tumbled downward, creating a slippery trail, but the surefootedness of the animals gave them no worry.

It was afternoon by the time they reached the bottom of the mountain, and the warm air of the valley ate away the chill of the higher altitude. A grassy plain lay out toward Imladris, stretching till it ended with the outlying edges of the trees surrounding the virtually empty city. Sadness tugged at their hearts, recalling the bustling center Imladris had once been, until the elves had sailed.

Travelers were still welcome, and occasionally some did pass through and rest under the care and aid of Elladan and Elrohir. However, as the years drew on, fewer and fewer did.

Forward they rushed, spurring their steeds forward with a squeeze and shout. Wind rushed against their faces, refreshing their melancholy spirits in hopes of a warm welcome.

Forgotten was the home they’d left, and the disarray of emotions.

Images of mulled wine and friendly countenances flashed before them, and grinning Peredhel with mischievous twinkles in their eyes to lighten their spirits. Warm fires blazed in cozy rooms built of wood and stone, nothing like the cold caverns of Eryn Lasgalen.

They only paused twice in their flight, to give rest to the overworked animals, food and water. And true to Celegrod’s word, they passed through the natural barrier of trees into the forest under the dark of night, reaching the city shortly before dawn.

Both pulled their horses to a halt, looking around in wonder at the eerily quiet buildings surrounding them in the twilight. Stamping loudly, the horses whinnied in question. A deep musical voice behind them startled both ellyn.

“And what brings Legolas Thranduilion and the brave Celegrod to us now?” Whirling his horse around, a grin spread across his face as he recognized Elrond’s seneschal. Gone were the robes of his station, replaced with a casual jerkin and breeches. As he remembered, the elf’s hair hung unbound in a halo of shimmering wheat. Looking over, he noticed that Celegrod’s grin matched his.

Giving his attention back to the standing elf, he pressed his fist to his heart and bowed his head, “Well met, Glorfindel of Imladris.” Lifting his eyes again, he noticed the darker elf standing behind Glorfindel, the quiet advisor that was always shadowed by the slayer’s glowing light.

Erestor allowed them a small approving smile, nodding his head in greeting as well. He leaned forward whispering in Glorfindel’s ear something inaudible to the mounted elves. A deep rumbling laugh escaped the slayer’s lips, as he expressed his agreement. Erestor then turned and disappeared through the door behind them.

Striding down the steps of the First Homely House, Glorfindel approached Legolas and Celegrod.

“Let me take you to the stables, and give your horses rest. They seem a bit tired.” No questions asked as to why the horses seemed exhausted and over-pushed…and it relieved both riders. Glorfindel guided them to the stables, empty now except for the slayer’s infamous steed and a few others. Sadness once again invaded the visitors’ hearts, as the realized just how empty the city truly was.

“Is it true, is everyone gone now?” Celegrod broke the silence that had fallen over them. Not looking up from his work spreading fresh straw through the two empty stalls, Glorfindel breathed deeply.

“Aye, all remaining now are Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor and myself.” He stood, dusting his hands against each other to remove the bits of straw stuck to them. Facing the other two, a tiny smile touched his lips when he saw the melancholy in their expressions. “Do not feel saddened for us, a few do pass through to give us enough entertainment. Come now, and I will take you to the buildings we haunt now-a-days.” He motioned for them to follow him.

Wind whispered through the leaves, a few falling upon their heads in the growing morning light. Peaceful calm now surrounded them as the light brightened the grove.

But the serenity was quickly broken by a yelp and an angry cry.

Celegrod and Legolas paused in wonder, as Erestor flew down the stairs, his façade screwed up in angry lines…at least in frustration. Glorfindel just shook his head in amusement, continuing toward the irate advisor.

“I swear, Glorfindel!” Erestor stopped his flight, pointing an accusing finger at Glorfindel. The slayer threw his hands up as if to reflect whatever imagined thing Erestor might hurl.

“Erestor, please. Not in front of our guests.” He brought Erestor’s attention to the silently watching, briefly forgotten ellyn. Exchanging a glance, Legolas and Celegrod smiled. It was as they remembered, and truly the twins would lighten their hearts. “What could the twins have possibly done now…” Glorfindel smirked knowingly at Erestor’s exasperated expression.

“You ought to know! You taught them everything they know in the regard of all things foolish and unsafe!” Erestor threw his hands up in irritation and stalked back inside, where more of his curses could be heard, as well as various banging noises.

Legolas, Celegrod, and Glorfindel turned to face the snickering twins behind them. Grey eyes sparkled with humour, just as the two had imagined they would. Glorfindel just sighed.

In a stern tone he mock scolded the Peredhel, “Every time you two do something, I get the brunt of it…I swear, you two behave much younger than your years.” Shaking his head, he watched the twins lose interest in whatever ill they’d cast upon the obsessive compulsive Noldo. Quickly the Eryn Lasgalen travelers were overwhelmed by the enthusiastic greeting the twins bestowed upon them.

“Legolas…”

“Celegrod!”

“Erestor is…”

“Saved!”

“We’ve been so bored…”

“All these years since…”

“Since Ada and all the others left!”

Legolas felt dizzy with the back and forth toss of words between the twins. How long had it been since he’d seen them…? Since the battle of Pelannor Fields and Arwen’s marriage… Too long for him to remember how to tell them apart…

Identical chestnut hair framed identical light-grey eyes that flashed. Identical noses sloped between high cheekbones, leading down to identical wide, crimson lips and delicately rounded chins. It was amazing the likeness they bore to Elrond and Celebrian, yet looking nothing like their parents.

Releasing the well-greeted ellyn, they tugged eagerly at Legolas and Celegrod’s sleeves…

“Come with us…”

“You have much to tell us!”

“And we have much to share…”

Arms slung over reunited friends, the four rushed up the steps to the warmth beckoning from within. Glorfindel followed closely behind, chuckling at the younger ellyn and their mirth.

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It had taken him longer to reach the jungle of Harad than he’d originally thought, though he’d settled his band on the furthest southwest edge of Khand.

The jungle. Morwë reined his stallion to a halt and stood in the stirrups. Taking a deep breath, he let the sweet scents in the humid air assail his nostrils. Memories of years past, years of running and hiding in this same jungle, hit his mind like an army of Sauron. And did he know about those…

He settled back into the saddle and squeezed the flanks of his horse. Carefully at a walk, they entered the dark green foliage. Vines dangled crisscross from every tree, and broad leaves and aromatic flowers brushed against them, as they pressed deeper and deeper. Exotic birds, plumages in an array of color, cawed through the air, swooping above them.

Very little light filtered through the tightly woven canopy, a sharp contrast from the open and arid desert he’d just left days before. Dense vegetation hindered their movements greatly, and he slipped off the horse, pulling out his sword to hack away at vines and branches blocking their path. His beast snorted its displeasure at the unusual surroundings.

Not only did the birds fly overhead, cawing out the warning of intruders, but also other creatures’ calls and voices invaded his ears. Snakes hissed, wrapped around branches, their heads dangling down to view the elf and horse. Screeching monkeys danced, whooping and hollering their alarms, above them as well.

Sweat broke out across his brow, and Morwë realized just how long it had been since he’d left this humid place. He’d had already shed his outer cloak, and though it cooled in the desert, it stifled in the tropical heat. His tunic remained on for protection against the thorns and branches that tugged at the muslin. Squelching with each step, he battered a path through the foliage, water from the air creating a perpetual mud. Insects buzzed irritably around his sensitive ears, and frustration began to take over his senses. ‘Only the Cuind would find this place a pleasure to dwell in,’ he thought. He did not regret settling in the arid clime of the desert.

Morwë slashed through a cross of vines…and stopped.

An elf stood before him grinning madly at the sweaty ellon, inches from the tip of Morwë’s sword. His long dark hair hung to the middle of his back and was braided in a hundred tiny and intricate strands, a scattering of glittering minute onyx beads woven throughout. Pale gleaming skin was exposed beneath the leather straps of his quiver and knives’ holster across his muscled chest. Sinewy arms supported him against an intricately carved bow, jungle cats of colorful agate leaping and tumbling around the smooth black-wood. Clad in nothing but soft black-fur leggings and blacks boots fringed with beads like the ones in his hair, the elf reminded Morwë of the images of the Avari that invaded the others’ imaginations. Truly the epitome of a ‘wild’ elf…

Two sets of identical black eyes glinted with humour when the jungle elf spoke.

“You have arrived, brother.”

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Once settled into their cozy sanctuaries, Celegrod and Legolas made their way through the dusty halls of Imladris. In past years, it had been bright and welcoming, sconces lighting halls filled with laughter and talking, but no more. Mid-morning light passed through the cut-glass windowpanes, creating a play of shadow and ghostly figures on the walls as they passed by. The eerie mood was disturbing momentarily, till the Sylvans heard the familiar voices of the twins in the rooms nearby.

When they finally entered into the room, warmed by a friendly blazing fire, the hushed tones of the twins’ loud whispers quickly subsided. Glorfindel sat near the far wall, perched on the armrest of a long plush couch, made of soft dark red leather. Nearly on the opposite end of the same piece of furniture sat Erestor, lounging lazily with his legs extended and crossed at the ankles, his black eyes full of laughter. Forgotten was his previous irritation with the two pranksters.

However, Elladan and Elrohir were huddled in the middle of the floor, over a low oak table, with barely restrained chuckles bubbling in their throats, identical chestnut heads pressed together as if plotting.

Noticing that none of his companions were going to be able to constrain themselves for long, Glorfindel opened his mouth.

“We are planning to winter in Lorien. The twins wanted to keep it a surprise, and tell you later. However, considering your unexpected arrival and the short time span we have to make it to Lorien before the first snowfalls, Erestor and myself have decided to tell you now. We should be leaving in the morning if we wish to make it before then. How does that sit with you?”

The Balrog Slayer closed his mouth, waiting for a response from the visitors.

Legolas and Celegrod could do nothing but grin. First they had arrived and been welcomed by the warm arms of the sons of Elrond, and now they would be traveling with said elves to visit with possibly the only other three who could match them.

Gold looked at white, and White looked at gold. Both smiled, silently agreeing with each that indeed they would go, and they verbally voiced their assent to the others.

It amazed Legolas, still no questions were asked about their mysterious arrival, though he knew the topic would arise eventually…but for now it was comforting to not think upon it.

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Morwë watched Nurwë glide through the jungle’s undergrowth with ease, a stab of jealously attacking his heart. His stallion no longer protested verbally, though his movements were hesitant and jumpy.

The Harad jungle was deep and vast, and the elves settled in the core of it. Like in Khand, human settlements were common, but on the outskirts of the forest. Only the elves dared to lose themselves in the deep.

Thus, it was still half a day’s journey to the Cuind settlement. He remembered small huts crafted from the broadest leaves and spindly poles, perfectly camouflaged between the trees. Hammocks would be hung between the huts, and inside as well.

Ever watchful, Morwe scanned the boughs above though he knew these elves would never reveal themselves, even to Nurwë’s brother. A whisper…Nurwë led them, the only sound he made a whisper passing through the flora.

“When we arrive…” Morwë was startled to hear his brother speak. “When we arrive, I will find the one you seek.”

A thought passed in his mind of the one he sought so deep in the jungle, and he did not understand his brother’s meaning. What did he mean he had to find him?

“I do not understand.”

“Much has changed since you left for the Forodwaith, seeking a mate among the ice dwelling Hwenti,” he glanced back at Morwë, a snide grin on his lips. “And how is the dear Carniwen? I trust she has worked out well…” Parting the leaves one last time, he cut himself off as they passed the first of many dwellings.

Huts, no more than ten feet in width and length, crafted from long, poles as thick as his finger was long. Woven between were ropes made of fibrous plants, broadleaves cleverly inserted to fool the untrained eye. Each dwelling was nestled behind vines and bushes, nearly completely camouflaged. But as his eyes shifted toward the upper levels of the trees, he caught glimpses of hidden shelters above as well.

Elves stood in doorways and descended from the trees, sliding down the masses of vines, to nod their greetings to the returned elf lord. Like flowers of the jungle, a rainbow of colors opened up before him, just as his own tribesmen. Hair shades ranged from the lightest whites to the darkest blacks, eyes from practically colorless to jet…skin tones from paler than snow to a small number of the darkest half-breeds. He counted less than fifteen that were of the unnatural elven coloring.

The males were dressed similarly to Nurwë, bare-chested carrying their weapons across their backs, though their hair was worn in a hundred of different styles. The females wore just as little, though modestly covering the different areas of their bodies, mute-colored animal skins carefully tanned and sewn into short fitted dresses decorated in dark colored beads in various shades of greens, blues and black. No soft female resided here, nothing ethereal. Muscular and lean, they too carried weapons, smaller than the men’s and worn at the hip. Long daggers kept close to their sides in case danger threatened the little ones, and hardened eyes darted around, ever wary of the dangers that lurk in the jungle. Young children clung to their mothers, barely clothed, if they wore anything at all. Many were completely nude, and mostly of the younger ones.

Male, female, to the tiniest of children…none spoke, just followed Morwë and Nurwë with their eyes. Many were old enough to remember the returning elf lord.

As they passed the elves, Morwë could hear quiet murmurs, likely questions of his sudden presence. And also likely wonder at his snowy beast, following cautiously behind and pressing its noise into its master’s back, since horses were non-existent in the jungle, being completely impractical. Looking back, he watched as they returned to their routines and daily duties, he a second thought.

“Brother,” Nurwë held his hand up to halt them, and then pointed to a small hut nestled behind a web of vines, set apart from the others. “This is my dwelling…” It was small, and gave no evidence of a feminine hand. Not that it meant anything, considering Carniwen had not leant his tent a feminine touch.

As if reading Morwë’s mind, Nurwë chuckled. “I have never bonded, nor intend to…” Morwë smiled, knowing that though his brother had never bonded, his desires would still be quenched. Not that bonding had forced him to forsake all others either…

A soft thud behind him turned both their attentions. Swearing under his breath, Morwë cursed the half-breeds.

“Urewe, brother.”

Dressed in the fashion of the Cuind warriors and carrying the same weapons, the half-elf wore slung over his shoulder a similar bow carved from the same black-wood a Nurwë’s. Instead of wild cats, however, elven figures danced about, as diverse in appearance as the elves of the tribe. His jet hair sparkled in the dappled evening light filtering through the canopy, a silver hint in it. He also wore it in a hundred tiny plaits, but pulled back and tied with a leather strap into a ponytail.

Pulled back, his hair revealed a narrow face of sharp angles with severe and shockingly crystal blue eyes, the only evidence of his elven heritage beside his pointed ears. High cheekbones and a broad forehead finished his exotic appearance.

Morwe nodded his greeting to the dark half-elf. Few existed, and beside Ranohtar, he knew very few of that few. Though he was used to his captain’s presence, it still unnerved him to meet the brown skinned elves. It was unnatural for humans and elves to breed, and these sly creatures were evidence of that…which made them perfect for particularly unpleasant tasks, as both he and Nurwë had apparently discovered.