This is my first real bit of LotR fanfiction, and I tried to do it justice.
I had some problems figuring out what level of formality to use for the
speech, since Tolkein's elves seem to use around fifteenth century English
and the movie characters speak more in seventeenth. As a compromise I tried
to keep the dialogue at around sixteenth century English, but I've
rewritten everything at least once and many paragraphs more than once.
Comments, at least on that part of it, would be very greatly appreciated.
~Indicates words spoken in the Sindarin tongue~
All Elven is listed at the bottom.
~
Jewels of the Valar
Chapter One
~
The solitary figure slowed as it approached the edge of the forest. The rider got off of his horse, letting the reins hang freely as the animal made no motion to leave, and went to the nearest tree, putting a hand on the bark. He noted something, then crouched, examining but not disturbing the silvery leaves and twigs that were worked into the forest floor. Finding whatever he was looking for, he stood and returned to his horse, stroking its head gently for a moment and whispering something in its ear before taking hold of the reins and leading the animal into the forest.
There was no path, at least no conventional one, but the trees were not cramped, and he had no difficulty progressing. Contrarily, it seemed almost as if the branches went out of their way not to hinder his passing. There was a feeling of peace around him, and his boots made almost no noise, despite the twigs that littered the ground.
Gradually dusk began to sweep over the forest, and finally he stopped, halting his horse and taking from its back a sleeping roll. He made no fire, but the light from the stars seemed to filter down through the trees and the leaves, and the forest was cast into an ethereal light, more dreamlike than real. He fed his horse and watered it, once again not attaching the reins to any branch, letting it wander as it willed while he slept.
When it dawned the next morning the animal was waiting almost exactly where he had left it. With practiced ease he returned his bedroll to the animal's back and continued through the woods. He watched around him with keen eyes, and paused at times to check the trees and the ground, keeping on his course. He sighed. It had been a long time since he had last been able to enjoy the beauty of this place, and he savoured it as he walked.
Around midday he came across a gentle stream running through the forest, and he stopped on one bank to take food from his pack and water his horse. Then he straightened, adjusted his quiver and bow across his back, and leapt across the river. His horse looked at him for a moment, then followed his master. When its feet touched the bank its ears suddenly pricked and it pranced in front of him. He smiled.
"All right," he said warmly, stroking its forehead. "I will survive without your company the rest of the journey. If you know the way, you can go ahead." The animal nuzzled its head against his shoulder for a moment before racing off through the forest.
The man adjusted his load once more and continued along in his horse's wake. He would reach his destination, if not tonight then the next morning. He was in no hurry, and had no need for his pack. It would be good to arrive, though, he knew.
Suddenly, he felt a thin line of cold fire press across his throat. He froze, cursing himself for his stupidity. Twice now he had been caught off guard in Elven woods, twice too many. The dagger's edge pressed for a second, then the pressure on his neck eased, and a lilting laugh came from behind him.
~"What is this, now?"~ his captor inquired, mirth evident in his voice. ~"I had hardly expected the chief of the Dúunedain to be taken this easily." ~
Aragorn paused for a moment, then let out a breath as the blade came away from his throat. He turned, shocked, and found himself facing a tall, blonde Elf whose piercing blue eyes sparkled with laughter. The Sindarin Elf smiled at him, twirling the knife between his fingers.
~"Elessar,"~ he said in the Sindarin tongue, ~"it has been too long since I have seen you." ~
Still speechless, Aragorn gazed at his captor. The Elf hadn't changed noticeably since he had last seen him; he still wore his customary garments, plain except for his silver-gilded gauntlets, and his silver- blonde hair still cascaded down his back and flowed around his shoulders where it was not caught back in its customary plait, with minuscule braids weaving down behind his ears; the braids of a skilled warrior. He blinked slowly, but the image didn't change, except that the smile slowly widened into a smirk and one delicate eyebrow rose.
~"You have nothing to say by way of greeting?"~ he demanded in a teasing tone. ~"I should be offended."~
Aragorn finally found his tongue. ~"How are you here?"~ he asked. ~"I saw you board the white ship to the Havens, almost fifty years ago."~ The Elf smiled.
~"It's true, I boarded Círdan's ship,"~ he replied, leaning casually against a tree. ~"I stayed in the Havens for a score of years, in fact. But, you should know as well as any that while the Lady of Lórien speaks nothing but the truth, her truth does not always mean what we believe it to."~
~"You're speaking in riddles, my friend,"~ Aragorn scowled at him. ~"Will you tell me what I want to know voluntarily, or will you force me to find other ways to make you reveal the information?"~ He loosened his Anduril in its scabbard menacingly, his eyes twinkling merrily.
~"Ah,"~ Legolas smiled. ~"Your haste will ruin my tale. But, for the sake of my good health, I will be brief. In short, if you insist, I found that I couldn't remain idle in Mithlond while the world went on around me. I am young still, though in Middle Earth I am older than many living things. I felt compelled to return, just as before I had been compelled to depart. My land needs me here."~
Aragorn smiled and moved to embrace his friend. ~"And you have remained here since then?"~ he pressed. Legolas laughed.
~"Will you give me no peace until you have heard everything that has happened since we last met?"~ he asked. ~"Very well, I will explain, but I beg you, wait until we have reached the city."~
~"All right,"~ Aragorn nodded. ~"Why are you so far away?"~
~"You will never give up,"~ Legolas shook his head, then smiled. ~"The destruction of Sauron and the One Ring did not mean the destruction of the Dark Lord's armies. The yrch still roam free, and without the guiding hand of their master they wander aimlessly over Middle Earth. This forest is protected, true, but some still feel the need to come back to destroy the place of their creation. My father has strengthened the guards at the city, and had called for the patrols to move further out, to guard the borders of Eryn Lasgalen."~
Suddenly Aragorn burst out laughing. Legolas looked at him curiously.
"The Wood of Greenleaves, Legolas?" The Ranger asked in Westron, one hand covering his mouth in an effort to contain himself. "I had heard, of course, that your father and Celeborn had re-christened Mirkwood, but I had never learned the new name. It is no wonder, now." Legolas scowled.
"I had nothing to do with the matter," he protested. "Although my father must have had some influence over the choice."
"Indeed," Aragorn noted mildly. "There is little chance of coincidence."
~"The similarity is not as pronounced in this tongue,"~ Legolas looked somewhat sheepish. ~"If it were, I doubt I would be able to show my face again."~ The Elf still held his dagger, and he spun it idly between his fingers. Aragorn adjusted his sword-belt.
~"You are returning to the city?"~ he inquired. Legolas nodded. ~"Then perhaps we could travel together."~
~"The old times are gone,"~ the Elf noted, ~"but memories live on. I have not walked with you for over three score summers. I would be glad to again." ~The knife spun in a flash of silver, and then he returned it to its sheath at his back. Aragorn shifted the weight of his pack, and then started down the path.
They walked side by side in silence for a while, taking in the peace of the woods and the pleasure of seeing an old friend. Slowly, as night fell, the shapes in the distance began to take the forms of a great arched gate, intricately worked. Two elves, dressed in fine mail, stood on either side of the gate, strung bows held deceptively loosely in one hand. Aragorn was not deceived; those warriors could have an arrow through his heart before he could register a change in movement. He stalled for a moment, allowing Legolas to take the lead.
~"Mae govannen, my lord,"~ one of the elves called, and both bowed.
~"Mae govennen,"~ Legolas replied. ~"Has there been any trouble?"~ Both guards shook their heads.
~"There have been no disturbances today,"~ the other replied, ~"save a riderless horse who seemed to know the way to the stables."~ The soldier's eyes glinted as he looked at Aragorn. "Greetings, Elessar," he said formally in Westron. Aragorn nodded.
"My thanks," he replied. The guard turned back to Legolas.
~"Your father was asking of your return. I believe it was in regard to the feast, though I could not be sure. He may still be trying to make it a surprise."~ He grinned when Legolas put a hand over his eyes.
~"Right now I have no greater wish than for this fortnight to fade into oblivion,"~ he said, shaking his head. ~"But, if it is my father's will, I will bear what I must. Thank you, Rilthalion."~
Aragorn passed through the gate on Legolas's heels, receiving fractional bows from the two guards. When he entered the city he quickened his pace and caught up with his friend.
~"What is going on this fortnight?"~ he enquired with a sly grin. ~"What feast does the noble prince wish to avoid?"~
Legolas glared at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes. ~"On the eve of the next full moon I will have seen three thousand summers,"~ he answered wryly. ~"It is not important to me, but my father wishes to hold a feast in my honour. A wonderful event it should be, no doubt filled with needless frivolities, and my title will follow me about like a lapdog."~
"Three thousand years?" Aragorn stopped suddenly, and flushed under the curious gazes his outburst had earned him from those nearby. "Surely you're joking."
"No," Legolas shook his head. "Believe me, I would not joke about this. I wish to avoid it at all costs."
"I understand why you would wish to run," Aragorn nodded sympathetically. "For my name, Elessar, is heavier to me than any crown, but, it will not be as bad as you think."
"Oh no," Legolas laughed. "It will no doubt be worse."
Aragorn continued to walk once more. ~"But, three thousand years?"~ he frowned, looking over at the blonde Elf. ~"You do not look as if you have aged a day since I last saw you."~
~"If I did you would have cause to worry,"~ the Elf pointed out with a laugh. ~"Elves do not show age after we have left our infanthood."~
~"True,"~ Aragorn agreed. ~"Indeed, your father looks hardly older than you, except for the wisdom in his eyes."~ Legolas nodded, and they continued along in silence for a time.
When they reached the gate to the Palace of Mirkwood, now the Areska Lasgalen, they were met by four more guards who nodded to Legolas as he passed. Aragorn's presence earned him curious glances; he heard murmured whispers after he had started up the central staircase. A human was no longer a common sight in the Elven realms, and this dark haired stranger who seemed so at ease was cause for comment.
At last they reached the throne room of the palace. A dark haired messenger moved as soon as they came within sight, and as they entered the room she curtsied.
~"Your father wishes to speak with you,"~ she said politely, but not shyly, casting a look at Aragorn. Legolas nodded.
~"Diola lle,"~ he replied. She nodded and withdrew, and Legolas looked at Aragorn with a wry smile.
"Into the fray," he remarked, and Aragorn laughed, following his friend through yet another ornately carved archway and into the throne room proper.
Thranduil, lord of the Mirkwood Elves, sat in a straight-backed throne on a raised dais. He looked up from the scroll he was reading when they entered the room, and rose fluidly from his seat. He descended from the dais and met Legolas at the foot of the stairs, placing one hand on his shoulder.
~"I have been awaiting your return, my son,"~ he said formally, without preamble. Legolas nodded.
~"I was led to believe that it was in regard to this feast that you seem so insistent on holding."~ He groaned good-naturedly. ~"Are you certain that there is no way for me to change your mind?"~
Thranduil grinned merrily. ~"I realize that you would probably prefer that I was not so in favour of this,"~ he conceded, ~"But you must allow me my trivial pleasures. I have not as much time for them of late."~
~"Of course, father,"~ Legolas nodded.
~"And besides,"~ Thranduil added, a gleam now apparent in his eyes, ~"I could hardly send messengers to all those invited at so late a date."~ He laughed softly as Legolas's face took on a look of mild panic, then a scowl.
~"All right, father,"~ he growled, ~"There is no need to bait me. What exactly did you wish to speak with me about?"~
~
Sorry for cutting it off here, but ff.net seemed to want to cut it off, so I decided to just make one chapter into a few shorter ones. Anyway. ^_^
For the people who already know this, bear with me or skip it. Otherwise, I think this is everything that came either from the appendices or my knowledge/finding abilities of the Elven language.
Círdan - the shipwright who created the ships to the grey havens as well as the elf who recreated the havens themselves
Mithlond - Elven name for the Grey Havens
Yrch - orcs
Eryn Lasgalen - Thranduil and Celeborn renamed Mirkwood on the first day of the new year, 3019. The new name means The Wood of Greenleaves
Westron - the language of men, originally the Numenoreans
Mae govannen - well met, greeting
Areska Lasgalen - took some liberties here, naming the palace. The name means Royal House of Greenleaves, a somewhat fitting title for the palace, I thought
Diola lle - Thank you
~Indicates words spoken in the Sindarin tongue~
All Elven is listed at the bottom.
~
Jewels of the Valar
Chapter One
~
The solitary figure slowed as it approached the edge of the forest. The rider got off of his horse, letting the reins hang freely as the animal made no motion to leave, and went to the nearest tree, putting a hand on the bark. He noted something, then crouched, examining but not disturbing the silvery leaves and twigs that were worked into the forest floor. Finding whatever he was looking for, he stood and returned to his horse, stroking its head gently for a moment and whispering something in its ear before taking hold of the reins and leading the animal into the forest.
There was no path, at least no conventional one, but the trees were not cramped, and he had no difficulty progressing. Contrarily, it seemed almost as if the branches went out of their way not to hinder his passing. There was a feeling of peace around him, and his boots made almost no noise, despite the twigs that littered the ground.
Gradually dusk began to sweep over the forest, and finally he stopped, halting his horse and taking from its back a sleeping roll. He made no fire, but the light from the stars seemed to filter down through the trees and the leaves, and the forest was cast into an ethereal light, more dreamlike than real. He fed his horse and watered it, once again not attaching the reins to any branch, letting it wander as it willed while he slept.
When it dawned the next morning the animal was waiting almost exactly where he had left it. With practiced ease he returned his bedroll to the animal's back and continued through the woods. He watched around him with keen eyes, and paused at times to check the trees and the ground, keeping on his course. He sighed. It had been a long time since he had last been able to enjoy the beauty of this place, and he savoured it as he walked.
Around midday he came across a gentle stream running through the forest, and he stopped on one bank to take food from his pack and water his horse. Then he straightened, adjusted his quiver and bow across his back, and leapt across the river. His horse looked at him for a moment, then followed his master. When its feet touched the bank its ears suddenly pricked and it pranced in front of him. He smiled.
"All right," he said warmly, stroking its forehead. "I will survive without your company the rest of the journey. If you know the way, you can go ahead." The animal nuzzled its head against his shoulder for a moment before racing off through the forest.
The man adjusted his load once more and continued along in his horse's wake. He would reach his destination, if not tonight then the next morning. He was in no hurry, and had no need for his pack. It would be good to arrive, though, he knew.
Suddenly, he felt a thin line of cold fire press across his throat. He froze, cursing himself for his stupidity. Twice now he had been caught off guard in Elven woods, twice too many. The dagger's edge pressed for a second, then the pressure on his neck eased, and a lilting laugh came from behind him.
~"What is this, now?"~ his captor inquired, mirth evident in his voice. ~"I had hardly expected the chief of the Dúunedain to be taken this easily." ~
Aragorn paused for a moment, then let out a breath as the blade came away from his throat. He turned, shocked, and found himself facing a tall, blonde Elf whose piercing blue eyes sparkled with laughter. The Sindarin Elf smiled at him, twirling the knife between his fingers.
~"Elessar,"~ he said in the Sindarin tongue, ~"it has been too long since I have seen you." ~
Still speechless, Aragorn gazed at his captor. The Elf hadn't changed noticeably since he had last seen him; he still wore his customary garments, plain except for his silver-gilded gauntlets, and his silver- blonde hair still cascaded down his back and flowed around his shoulders where it was not caught back in its customary plait, with minuscule braids weaving down behind his ears; the braids of a skilled warrior. He blinked slowly, but the image didn't change, except that the smile slowly widened into a smirk and one delicate eyebrow rose.
~"You have nothing to say by way of greeting?"~ he demanded in a teasing tone. ~"I should be offended."~
Aragorn finally found his tongue. ~"How are you here?"~ he asked. ~"I saw you board the white ship to the Havens, almost fifty years ago."~ The Elf smiled.
~"It's true, I boarded Círdan's ship,"~ he replied, leaning casually against a tree. ~"I stayed in the Havens for a score of years, in fact. But, you should know as well as any that while the Lady of Lórien speaks nothing but the truth, her truth does not always mean what we believe it to."~
~"You're speaking in riddles, my friend,"~ Aragorn scowled at him. ~"Will you tell me what I want to know voluntarily, or will you force me to find other ways to make you reveal the information?"~ He loosened his Anduril in its scabbard menacingly, his eyes twinkling merrily.
~"Ah,"~ Legolas smiled. ~"Your haste will ruin my tale. But, for the sake of my good health, I will be brief. In short, if you insist, I found that I couldn't remain idle in Mithlond while the world went on around me. I am young still, though in Middle Earth I am older than many living things. I felt compelled to return, just as before I had been compelled to depart. My land needs me here."~
Aragorn smiled and moved to embrace his friend. ~"And you have remained here since then?"~ he pressed. Legolas laughed.
~"Will you give me no peace until you have heard everything that has happened since we last met?"~ he asked. ~"Very well, I will explain, but I beg you, wait until we have reached the city."~
~"All right,"~ Aragorn nodded. ~"Why are you so far away?"~
~"You will never give up,"~ Legolas shook his head, then smiled. ~"The destruction of Sauron and the One Ring did not mean the destruction of the Dark Lord's armies. The yrch still roam free, and without the guiding hand of their master they wander aimlessly over Middle Earth. This forest is protected, true, but some still feel the need to come back to destroy the place of their creation. My father has strengthened the guards at the city, and had called for the patrols to move further out, to guard the borders of Eryn Lasgalen."~
Suddenly Aragorn burst out laughing. Legolas looked at him curiously.
"The Wood of Greenleaves, Legolas?" The Ranger asked in Westron, one hand covering his mouth in an effort to contain himself. "I had heard, of course, that your father and Celeborn had re-christened Mirkwood, but I had never learned the new name. It is no wonder, now." Legolas scowled.
"I had nothing to do with the matter," he protested. "Although my father must have had some influence over the choice."
"Indeed," Aragorn noted mildly. "There is little chance of coincidence."
~"The similarity is not as pronounced in this tongue,"~ Legolas looked somewhat sheepish. ~"If it were, I doubt I would be able to show my face again."~ The Elf still held his dagger, and he spun it idly between his fingers. Aragorn adjusted his sword-belt.
~"You are returning to the city?"~ he inquired. Legolas nodded. ~"Then perhaps we could travel together."~
~"The old times are gone,"~ the Elf noted, ~"but memories live on. I have not walked with you for over three score summers. I would be glad to again." ~The knife spun in a flash of silver, and then he returned it to its sheath at his back. Aragorn shifted the weight of his pack, and then started down the path.
They walked side by side in silence for a while, taking in the peace of the woods and the pleasure of seeing an old friend. Slowly, as night fell, the shapes in the distance began to take the forms of a great arched gate, intricately worked. Two elves, dressed in fine mail, stood on either side of the gate, strung bows held deceptively loosely in one hand. Aragorn was not deceived; those warriors could have an arrow through his heart before he could register a change in movement. He stalled for a moment, allowing Legolas to take the lead.
~"Mae govannen, my lord,"~ one of the elves called, and both bowed.
~"Mae govennen,"~ Legolas replied. ~"Has there been any trouble?"~ Both guards shook their heads.
~"There have been no disturbances today,"~ the other replied, ~"save a riderless horse who seemed to know the way to the stables."~ The soldier's eyes glinted as he looked at Aragorn. "Greetings, Elessar," he said formally in Westron. Aragorn nodded.
"My thanks," he replied. The guard turned back to Legolas.
~"Your father was asking of your return. I believe it was in regard to the feast, though I could not be sure. He may still be trying to make it a surprise."~ He grinned when Legolas put a hand over his eyes.
~"Right now I have no greater wish than for this fortnight to fade into oblivion,"~ he said, shaking his head. ~"But, if it is my father's will, I will bear what I must. Thank you, Rilthalion."~
Aragorn passed through the gate on Legolas's heels, receiving fractional bows from the two guards. When he entered the city he quickened his pace and caught up with his friend.
~"What is going on this fortnight?"~ he enquired with a sly grin. ~"What feast does the noble prince wish to avoid?"~
Legolas glared at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes. ~"On the eve of the next full moon I will have seen three thousand summers,"~ he answered wryly. ~"It is not important to me, but my father wishes to hold a feast in my honour. A wonderful event it should be, no doubt filled with needless frivolities, and my title will follow me about like a lapdog."~
"Three thousand years?" Aragorn stopped suddenly, and flushed under the curious gazes his outburst had earned him from those nearby. "Surely you're joking."
"No," Legolas shook his head. "Believe me, I would not joke about this. I wish to avoid it at all costs."
"I understand why you would wish to run," Aragorn nodded sympathetically. "For my name, Elessar, is heavier to me than any crown, but, it will not be as bad as you think."
"Oh no," Legolas laughed. "It will no doubt be worse."
Aragorn continued to walk once more. ~"But, three thousand years?"~ he frowned, looking over at the blonde Elf. ~"You do not look as if you have aged a day since I last saw you."~
~"If I did you would have cause to worry,"~ the Elf pointed out with a laugh. ~"Elves do not show age after we have left our infanthood."~
~"True,"~ Aragorn agreed. ~"Indeed, your father looks hardly older than you, except for the wisdom in his eyes."~ Legolas nodded, and they continued along in silence for a time.
When they reached the gate to the Palace of Mirkwood, now the Areska Lasgalen, they were met by four more guards who nodded to Legolas as he passed. Aragorn's presence earned him curious glances; he heard murmured whispers after he had started up the central staircase. A human was no longer a common sight in the Elven realms, and this dark haired stranger who seemed so at ease was cause for comment.
At last they reached the throne room of the palace. A dark haired messenger moved as soon as they came within sight, and as they entered the room she curtsied.
~"Your father wishes to speak with you,"~ she said politely, but not shyly, casting a look at Aragorn. Legolas nodded.
~"Diola lle,"~ he replied. She nodded and withdrew, and Legolas looked at Aragorn with a wry smile.
"Into the fray," he remarked, and Aragorn laughed, following his friend through yet another ornately carved archway and into the throne room proper.
Thranduil, lord of the Mirkwood Elves, sat in a straight-backed throne on a raised dais. He looked up from the scroll he was reading when they entered the room, and rose fluidly from his seat. He descended from the dais and met Legolas at the foot of the stairs, placing one hand on his shoulder.
~"I have been awaiting your return, my son,"~ he said formally, without preamble. Legolas nodded.
~"I was led to believe that it was in regard to this feast that you seem so insistent on holding."~ He groaned good-naturedly. ~"Are you certain that there is no way for me to change your mind?"~
Thranduil grinned merrily. ~"I realize that you would probably prefer that I was not so in favour of this,"~ he conceded, ~"But you must allow me my trivial pleasures. I have not as much time for them of late."~
~"Of course, father,"~ Legolas nodded.
~"And besides,"~ Thranduil added, a gleam now apparent in his eyes, ~"I could hardly send messengers to all those invited at so late a date."~ He laughed softly as Legolas's face took on a look of mild panic, then a scowl.
~"All right, father,"~ he growled, ~"There is no need to bait me. What exactly did you wish to speak with me about?"~
~
Sorry for cutting it off here, but ff.net seemed to want to cut it off, so I decided to just make one chapter into a few shorter ones. Anyway. ^_^
For the people who already know this, bear with me or skip it. Otherwise, I think this is everything that came either from the appendices or my knowledge/finding abilities of the Elven language.
Círdan - the shipwright who created the ships to the grey havens as well as the elf who recreated the havens themselves
Mithlond - Elven name for the Grey Havens
Yrch - orcs
Eryn Lasgalen - Thranduil and Celeborn renamed Mirkwood on the first day of the new year, 3019. The new name means The Wood of Greenleaves
Westron - the language of men, originally the Numenoreans
Mae govannen - well met, greeting
Areska Lasgalen - took some liberties here, naming the palace. The name means Royal House of Greenleaves, a somewhat fitting title for the palace, I thought
Diola lle - Thank you