This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*

I don't claim any of Tolkien's characters as mine, and I wouldn't take money for writing these fics, even if I could.

THIS, AND MY HEART BESIDE





From where he stood between his mother and father, his small hands clasped in each of theirs, young Legolas gazed up at Thranduil, his blue eyes wide with wonder and filled with unspoken questions. The eyes of the King of Mirkwood slid down to look at his son, a small smile lifting the corner of his lips as he squeezed the Prince’s hand in brief reassurance. Then he again assumed an aura of regal dignity as he faced the delegation that now approached the throne. It was the occasion of the first visit to Mirkwood by the King and Queen of Ilandros, an Elven kingdom that lay in the far eastern corner of Middle Earth. It was known as the Land of the Golden Elves, in reference to the exotic coloring of its inhabitants, whose hair was either of the deepest sable brown or the blackest black, made even more striking by skin that ranged in color from a honey that resembled the purest amber, to a deep golden brown like the rich earth of Mirkwood’s farmland. Even t eye eyes set them apart from all other Elven clans, colored in deep hues such as slate, brown as dark as mink, or even ebony, and graced with a delicate upward tilt.

It was the most exciting day of Legolas’ young life. He’d heard many tales of the eastern kingdom of Ilandros, all of them telling of the alleged mysticism of its people. They were said to have “powers”, but Legolas had never been able to confirm this, no matter whom he’d questioned. Even his father, when asked about the authenticity of the rumors, would simply answer, “So it is said.” The young Prince’s curiosity burned like a flame within him. Like an itch that he couldn’t scratch, he was unable to find respite from it. But, by the Valar, he meant to learn the truth or the lie of it before their guests returned to their homeland in one week’s time.

And now these wondrous Elves, these supposedly magical beings were in the palace, walking right *toward* him, their beautiful dark eyes intelligent and kind. It was then that Legolas realized a small child walked between the King and Queen, gripping their hands with trepidation, even as he looked all about him in awe and fascination. Behind the royal family came the members of the King’s Council and, after them, a company of armed guards marched. Thranduil barely managed to suppress his surprise when he saw how they were dressed, for the guards of the kingdom of Ilandros wore uniforms unlike anything he’d ever seen. Where his own guards wore tunics, and leggings tucked into high boots, they wore only knee-length tunics slit to the thigh, their well-muscled legs bare, except for sandals that laced in a crisscross pattern up to their knees. Their weapons were also unlike any the King of Mirkwood had ever seen. Broad, wickedly curved swords hung at their sides and shields engraved with the emblem of their kingdom hung on their backs. Without exception, each one wore his dusky hair loosely braided, with ribbons and cords of various colors woven into the luxurious lengths. As they passed between the two lines of Mirkwood’s Royal Guards, they nodded to their fellow warriors in greeting.

Awed, Legolas stared at them openly, until he realized that the royal family of Ilandros was now standing mere feet away from him and his adar and naneth. At this close proximity, he was dumbstruck by the wild, dark beauty of these Elves, their kindred from the East. As he gawked up at the visiting King and Queen, he felt the gaze of another, and looked to find the other Prince staring at him in wonder. Legolas gazed into the most beautiful gray eyes he could imagine; their charcoal depths shimmered. His glossy black hair fell in loose waves that framed his angelic face and tumbled down his back, all but covering the fine Elven ears. Only the delicate tips were visible as they peeked out, slightly more pointed than those of the Northern Elves.

The visiting Prince studied every inch of Legolas’ face, overwhelmed by the radiance of his fair beauty and straight silken tresses. The two Elven children marveled at one another, each the absolute opposite of the other. They smiled.

Forgetting himself, and protocol, Legolas placed his hand on his chest and said politely, “I am Legolas.”

The Dark Elf child replied, “I am Isalith. Greetings, Legolas.”

“The little ones do not stand on ceremony, do they?” Both children looked up to find their parents smiling indulgently down on them. Realizing his misstep, Legolas clasped his hands behind his back and looked contritely at the floor. How many times had his father reminded him that he should not speak first in situations like this?

“I am sorry, adar,” he said humbly, “I forgot.”

The King of Mirkwood bent to cup his son’s chin in his hand. “’Tis nothing, ore nin,” he said gently. “No harm was done by it.”

Thranduil straightened and turned to face his royal visitors. He place a hand over his heart in respect and welcome, saying, “King Tyrion, Queen Anylinde, and Prince Isalith, it is my very great pleasure to introduce to you my wife Naniel, and my son Legolas, and to welcome you all to Mirkwood. I must beg your forgiveness; I have been remiss by not inviting you here before now.”

The Eastern King inclined his head graciously and returned the sign of respect. “My Lord Thranduil,” he said, “no forgiveness is required. I also have been negligent in not suggesting this meeting sooner. The important thing is that we put it to rights *now*, is it not?” he asked kindly.

His smile was staggering in its beauty and radiance. Taller than even Thranduil, Tyrion cut a very imposing figure. Like his guards, his garb was utterly foreign to the court of Mirkwood, but beautiful nonetheless. The eastern King wore a copper-colored tunic and leggings of an iridescent fabric that shimmered with his every movement. The tunic reached to his knees, but was slit up to his waist and the leggings were loose-fitting. A delicately wrought headband of fine silver encircled his head. The front of it, just above his forehead, was graced by the figure of a falcon with wings outstretched. King Tyrion’s jet-black hair fell nearly to his hip in a thick braid.

Anylinde, his beautiful wife and Queen, glowed at his side in an emerald green gown of the same gleaming fabric that her husband wore. It gracefully swathed her delicate form, leaving one golden shoulder bare. Her sable brown hair was dressed in a feminine, intricate style, with a few tendrils dangling along the sides of her lovely face. She looked questioningly at Tyrion, who nodded gently in reply. She smiled at the Queen of Mirkwood and, turning to a servant who stood behind her, indicated that he should step closer with the small, carved oak cask that he cradled in his arms. Taking it from him, she thanked him graciously and turned to face Naniel once again.

“For you, Lady,” she said in a lyrical voice as she held out the chest.

Naniel stared at it in bewilderment, although she was genuinely touched by the gesture. Taking it in her hands hesitantly, she looked at the other Queen.

“I hardly know what to say,” she said. “This is so thoughtful and unexpected, but I’ve nothing for you, dear Anylinde.” The fear of offending the visiting Queen was evident in her crystal blue eyes.

With a reassuring touch of her hand, and a gentle smile, Anylinde put Naniel at ease. “It is not necessary; your hospitality is gift enough. I only hope you like it.”

Opening the case carefully, Naniel peeked inside it. An elegant and beautifully shaped crystal flagon, filled with a silvery liquid, lay on a burgundy velvet cushion.

“Our rarest and finest perfume, in Ilandros,” Anylinde explained. “It is made from the alqua lote, which blooms only in our homeland, and only at night.”

The Queen of Mirkwood removed the stopper from the flask and delicately inhaled its contents. Smiling blissfully, she sighed, “It is exquisite, unlike any other scent.”

Anylinde leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “It has other benefits as well. Take care that you do not use too much. It will have a very ….. *profound* ….. effect on King Thranduil.” Arching a delicate dark eyebrow, she gave Naniel a meaningful look.

“Indeed?” the blonde Queen asked, as a playful smile graced her lips. “I shall remember that. I cannot thank you enough for this gift.” She pressed a kiss of gratitude onto Anylinde’s soft cheek.

“And for you, my Lord,” King Tyrion said, as he held out a large book bound in embossed leather. “I have heard of yoove ove of reading, and your extensive library, so I enlisted Elven historians from the four corners of Middle Earth to construct a history of Mirkwood. You may already have something similar to it, but being told from four points of view, I hope it will be somewhat unique to your collection. And there is something in the twelfth chapter that I think you will especially like. May I?”

Thranduil nodded, intrigued. Tyrion carefully opened the large book to a page that he had obviously marked in his memory. Turning it around, he handed it back to Thranduil.

The King of Mirkwood nearly gasped at what he saw. Naniel came to his side and slipped her arm around his waist, tilting her head to see what had surprised her husband so.

“’Tis Oropher!” she whispered in amazement, and looked up at her husband’s stunned face.

“I have never before seen this likeness of my father,” he whispered, overcome with emotion.

“It was discovered by one of the historians who contributed to the book. The artist’s daughter lives in the same city, and when she heard that a history of Mirkwood was being compiled, she donated the drawing to honor both you and her father,” King Tyrion explained.

Thranduil had become so still upon his first glimpse of his father’s image in the book he held, that the raven-haired King asked him hesitantly, “Do you like it, my Lord Thranduil?”

The King of Mirkwood looked at him, gratitude evident in his aqua-blue eyes. “My dear Tyrion, it is magnificent!” A pleased smile spread across the face of the eastern King.

“Never have I received such a gift; I shall treasure it always. Thank you,” Thranduil added. “But you must be weary after your journey. We will show you to your rooms so that you may rest before the dinner to be held in your honor this evening.”

The King and Queen of Ilandros were led by Thranduil and Naniel to the elegant and spacious rooms where they would be staying during their visit. They rested, but their son, Isalith, remained in the company of Legolas. They found they had much to talk about, and although several close friendships were forged at that meeting, none of them were stronger than the one struck between the two Princes that day.

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With many thanks and big hugs to Janie, friend and feedback-giver extraordinaire, for the delicious images that inspired this story. Thank you for the privilege, my friend. And to Laurelin and Sue for catching my many blunders.

ore nin: my heart

alqua lote: swan flower