Faded Light: Book II

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, canon characters, the world of Middle of Earth or anything remotely connected to it; they all belong to JRR Tolkien and to his estate (and to the studio and people who made the movies). Only the storyline and OC's are a product of my own twisted imagination. No profit whatsoever will ever be made from this story.

Note 1: First off, huge apologies for seemingly abandoning this story. I really didn't; I had wanted to revise part of it, so I took down all of the chapters I had posted for Part II, but I never found the time to do the revising I wanted. And then, I lost my internet connection, followed by my computer crashing...I had a copy of the story though, so I didn't really lose much.

Anyway, I've almost finished writing Part II now, so I will try to post a couple of chapters a week through to the end. I decided to put it up as a separate story to make a little easier, (so if you're new to this story, please go back to Book I, otherwise you'll probably be confused...)

(However, if you really want to give it a try without reading the first part, here's a short summary of the story so far: About twenty or so years ago, when Legolas was a novice warrior, his patrol was ambushed by maurauders on the borders of Mirkwood. Everyone else was killed and he was taken to Harad as a slave and sold to a brothel keeper...his grief left him mute and he came to be called Dafi by the slavers. He became pregnant several times during those years but always miscarried...as the story opens, he is with child again, shortly after that the King of Harad notices him and wants him. Legolas has his child, but he is led to believe by his master that it died...there's a war, Legolas gets pregnant again; the King decides to buy him and this time Legolas is allowed to keep his child, who is a daughter.

Meanwhile, in Mirkwood, Thranduil has come close to fading many times because of his grief over losing his son. The heir to the throne now is Thranduil's nephew, Prince Leralonde, who is secretly the lover of Saelbeth, who is with child. When Leralonde's father, Ruthlagor finds out about his son's affair with Saelbeth, his head almost explodes...and while this is going on Thranduil's cousin is plotting on how to get the throne for his own side of the royal family, and Legolas older brother, who is adopted, so he's not in line for the throne, has left to try and find Legolas...

Note 2: And to avoid any confusion for those who read Part I, I would like to say that the story is now going to move ahead in time several years. In this part I am also finally introducing Legolas' adopted older brother Feredir, who so far has only been mentioned.

(...feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.)

Book II:

Chapter 1

Lost Elfling

It had been a very small Rhohirrim settlement on the western edges of Rohan.

When Prince Thengel and his riders rode through now, after the attack of the wild men, there was nothing left but the charred ruins of a few dwellings, the townspeople having either fled or been killed.

“We’ll find only death in this place, Highness,” said the sole Elf among them, steely gray eyes taking in the destruction as he swept back loose strands of long blond hair with one hand. The faint scar on the left side of his face where he had long ago been mauled by an Orc tightened and became more evident with his tension.

“The Dunlendings are long gone.”

Before Thengel was able to form a response, a call came from one of their companions, searching through the rubble of what had been the village’s only inn. “My Prince, Lord Feredir, there’s someone under here.”

In a few minutes the men had uncovered what appeared to be part of a table and looked at one another in surprise at their discovery.

Huddled in fear beneath the dust and broken wood was a small Elf-child, of about the human equivalent of an eight or nine year old, fair-haired, with striking pale blue eyes.

“It's all right, little one,” Feredir soothed in Elvish reaching a hand out to the boy. "We're here to help.”

The Elfling did not move or show any sign that he understood.

“How do you suppose he got here?” asked the prince, squatting down next to Feredir.

The elf lord did not miss how the Elfling’s eyes immediately darted in Thengel’s direction, as he spoke in the common tongue.

“Do you speak Westron then, child?” asked the warrior softly. He smiled and opened his arms. “I promise, you’re safe now. Those other Men are gone.”

Tentatively, the boy inched forward until he was close enough to reach the outstretched hand and two strong arms wrapped around his suddenly shaking form.

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” mumbled the frightened Elfling burying his face in his rescuer’s shoulder. “Master said to lock the door and hide...I could hear...they killed everyone...”

“Your master was the keeper of the inn...?” He looked into the small face and smoothed the boy’s dust covered hair. “What’s your name?”

The boy nodded, wiping at his eyes. “Benain.”

Little blond one, someone had had a rather poor imagination, he thought, though the name did suit him.

“And your parents...were they here...?”

“I don’t have any...master bought me when I was little...” he stuttered, again resting his head on the other Elf’s shoulder, small hands clutching tightly at his cloak.

The warrior frowned and looked up at his human companions.

“It is true slavery is supposed to be outlawed in Rohan,” replied the prince regretfully, “but I fear there are always unscrupulous men. And my father takes little real interest in curving such hateful practices.

“Come on,” he said standing up, “I think we had best leave this place and camp elsewhere where we can better tend to the child. He’s been through enough.”

The warrior nodded silently following his friend, the boy still in his arms.

“You know,” observed one of their companions, draping his own cloak around the child’s thin shoulders, who trustingly seemed to be nodding off, “he looks a bit like your Ithilhen. One could easily take them for kin.”

“It’s not obvious at first glance, but I think he’s a half-half,” the Mirkwood warrior gently brushed aside blond locks to reveal a small ear, its tip less pronounced than that of a full Elf’s.

“I wonder where he came from,” the Man took the dozing boy, from Feredir, as the warrior mounted his horse.

“I shall send a message to Rivendell,” said the elf lord settling the child in his arms again.

“Lord Elrond may know of any Elflings gone missing from elven lands in the past few years...”

Unconsciously nestling closer elder elf, it did not take long for the boy’s eyes, to glaze over and his breathing to confirm he had fallen asleep.

“He seems to have taken to you fairly quick,” said the other with a grin, as he climbed on his own steed.

It rather surprised the seasoned warrior; that a child reared under such circumstances should give his trust so freely or perhaps it was only tiredness and the aftermath of the shock that had finally overcome him.

That anyone could enslave a child, he thought. It was appalling and made the parent in him seethe. And he wondered what manner of Man had been this innkeeper that he would buy a child slave...

They had been riding awhile when he noticed the pair of bright blue eyes watching him curiously.

“What is it tithen pen?”

The boy bit his lower lip anxiously before admitting with childish wonder. “I had never seen another elf before...”

"...and am I quite as frightening as the tales Men tell?" The warrior raised an eyebrow and smiled kindly.

“No..."

He frowned at the serious look on the child’s innocent face. “But you must have seen elves even if it was a long time ago..."

The boy shook his head and looked away again, obviously not wanting to speak anymore on that subject.

“Where are we going?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“We are riding to Edoras. And I suppose you’ll be staying with my wife and I for the time being...”

Benain merely nodded, accepting the answer, but the warrior could see the child's eyes brighten at his words.

"May I sleep awhile," he asked cautiously after a minute.

“You don’t need to ask for permission to sleep, if you’re tired, little one.

“You are no longer to be anyone’s servant, do you understand?”
The boy did not look entirely convinced but nodded again.

Wrapping the cloak closer around the child, he began humming an ancient Sylvan tune he remembered distantly from his earliest memories, when and he and his birth parents lived in a small woodelf settlement among his sire's people...

But he quickly pulled himself from those thoughts and the old pain of their loss, looking down at the exhausted Elfling, his thumb in his mouth now, who had easily fallen into a deep a sleep again, soothed by the soft melody.

He and Alatariel had spoken many times of someday having another child, he thought, perhaps he ought not to question the designs of the Valar...

And there was something unaccountably familiar about this boy...something he could not point to, but he could not entirely put from his mind.


TBC...


Elvish Translations:

Dunlendings / Wild men of Dunland, living to the west of Rohan

Tithen pen / little one

Note 3:

Feredir - Elvish word meaning hunter. (Just in case anyone was curious.)

Thengel (who in my story is a friend of Feredir) was the son of Fengel, an extremely unpopular king of Rohan. Thengel, like everyone else, did not get along with King Fengel and eventually left Rohan, spending many years in the service of the Steward of Gondor and returning home only after his father’s death to become king. He became the father of King Theoden and grandfather of Eowyn and Eomer.