Title & Chapter Number: I Lhathron 7/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: PG-13ish heading to NC-17 territory
Disclaimer: I don't own anything written by Tolkien (blah blah blah). I write strictly for my own enjoyment (blah blah blah). I do claim any original characters created by me (blah!).
Warnings: Het sex
Betas: Cristine (thank you thank you thank you !)
Cast: Legolas/OHFC, OHFC/OMC
Timeline: AU, approx.. 2500 Fourth Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: Humans have seriously dropped the ball. Middle-earth is in a state of chaos. The elves that didn't leave for the West are in denial and have sequestered themselves (not that it matters cause everyone thinks they are a myth anyway) in the forest. Now a new threat is growing in Middle-earth. Can the guardian, I Lhathron, Legolas and friends defeat the shadow?
Notes: I suck at summaries so don't be put off by the above babble. This is my very first fic so be kind! Oh and I will try desperately not to beg for reviews but you know how that goes - checking several times a day to see if anyone has bothered to acknowledge your heart & soul - opps I mean story *wink*.
One other thing, I am given to grandiose schemes so in my head this is a huge complex story with many twists and turns. My writing style is such that things might be a little unclear at first but if you sit tight and read on everything is revealed :)
Within the one brought by light sleeping, power knows not its might - Fragment from I Lhathron*
~*~*~*~
Ilorin carefully monitored the length of each inhalation and exhalation, as the muscles of her back and arms began to protest the handstand she had been holding for ten minutes. Carefully lowering her legs from the posture, she breathed in and slowly raised herself to standing. Her arms swept in over her head and ended in a prayer position. She bowed deeply to the western windows of her room where the dawn sun was beginning to lighten the sky. This gesture completed her morning exercises and mediation. At the Temple Imani, each day Ilorin had risen two hours before dawn to begin a series of postures and exercises designed to focus the mind, body, and spirit toward a state of serenity. This was a practice she found useful to continue in Middle-earth. The balancing effects on her state of mind were invaluable.
After grabbing a soft towel from an alcove near her bed, she left her room and walked down the stone hall to the underground hot spring that served as a bathing area. She quickly washed with sweet scented soap, and toweled herself dry. Returning to her room, Ilorin dressed in a simple, long sleeved dress of forest green that fell to the floor in soft waves. The neckline was a bit more scooped than she liked, but otherwise the dress was acceptable. It was the easiest to put on without aid, and she did not wish to call a maid to help her.
She gently combed and braided the errant spirals of her black hair before grabbing her leather satchel and dark brown cloak. Thus prepared, she exited the room once more, this time in search of the door that led to the outside. Though she had finally begun to make sense of the twisting stone halls, she always felt a small flicker of doubt every time she went beyond the first curve.
Outside Ilorin wrapped her cloak tightly around her as she walked the winding paths through the forest. She was on her way to the library, where Aduial and Legolas had given her lessons in Westron every day for the last four weeks. She moved quickly, wishing to escape the chill in the morning air. On the plains of Hassana the temperature never dropped so low and she was still having difficulty adjusting to the cold.
Finally reaching the library, she entered the double doors and walked up the spiral stair to the second level. She found the secluded table and chairs where they usually sat. She glanced around in mild surprise. Aduial and Legolas were not present. With the exception of her morning meditation and exercise, she was hard pressed to take two steps without encountering one or both, though on a few occasions, she had managed to slip into the forest without either elf, taking her flute to play until the melody and story of the land sang in her music.
She put her cloak and satchel over the back of the wooden chair, and walked toward the tall bay window opposite the table. Her mind wandered over the last four weeks she had spent among the the elves as they called themselves.
She was not any closer today than four weeks ago to knowing why she was in their forest, or who had cast the passage. Every day, she wrestled with regret over stepping through that passage. She often wondered if her family knew of her disappearance from the land -- not that it would change their minds or hearts. Those who cared for her would have finished grieving a few years after she joined the novitiate. They would have considered her dead in all but physical form simply for submitting a petition. Those that did not care were most likely still involved in the squabble over her forfeited inheritance.
Leaving the unpleasant thoughts of her family, her mind turned to thoughts of the elves. Legolas and Aduial were kind and patient people who hadn't complained about her slow progress learning Westron, despite the many long hours spent teaching her. She avoided the other elves. They were less than friendly and somewhat irritating, with their non-accepting attitude toward her. She often grew lonely for the people she had known at the Temple, but when those moods began to take hold of her, she reminded herself that they would have been lost to her even were she still in Hassana.
For now, she had to seek acceptance and live life as was. Her days had developed a semi-comfortable rhythm. She rose early and completed her exercises and meditation, then studied Westron with Legolas and Aduial either in the library or while walking the grounds of the city. The three of them usually spent evening in Ilorin's room. Legolas and Aduial read, played instruments, sang, taught Ilorin board games or simply talked.
Unnoticed by Ilorin, Legolas had entered the library and quietly climbed the stair. He silently watched her standing near the window. She appeared deep in thought, and he hesitated to interrupt her reverie.
Ilorin gazed turned toward the scene outside the window. Each day when she saw the forest, she still felt the shock and beauty of this land so different from her home. She thought again of Hassana. The rains would be arriving soon as they did every year at this time. Here in the forest, it was Autumn. The once green leaves of the trees had become a mélange of brilliant oranges, vivid reds and saturated yellows. Strikingly beautiful, but totally alien.
As she looked across the colorful landscape, Ilorin felt an intense wave of sadness sweep through her body. Unconsciously she began to softly sing a song of longing in her native tongue. Her voice was no more than adequate, even for a human but the depth of feeling carried across the limitations of the instrument. So intense were the emotions of her song that Legolas felt the words penetrate his body, wrap around his heart and squeeze.
Sensing a presence, Ilorin turned to glance behind her. Her eyes locked with his. The library faded to the far periphery of their mutual gaze. Mildly surprised, Legolas realized the emotions of her song communicated the meaning of her words as if she were speaking the clearest Sindarin. Her words were of sorrow and loneliness. She sang of the far reaching plains of Hassana and her deep longing in the midst of the breathtaking but foreign land of the elves. Her song told of the confusion of being in Eryn Lasgalen, and the aching need to know why.
Then the song ended and the library once again stood in the forefront of their vision. Legolas quietly closed the distance between them, drawn by the deep sorrow in Ilorin's eyes. He understood the intensity of her longing for the same emotion rested in his own feä.
The desire to give comfort overcame his curiosity and need to question Ilorin about her musical ability. He slowly reached for her. The fingers of his right hand delicately grazed the soft skin of her brown cheek before sliding down her shoulder to clasp her hand. Looking steadily into her eyes, he kissed the back of her hand before resting the smooth skin of his cheek on the spot touched by his lips.
"I understand," he said, his voice low and gentle.
Ilorin nodded slowly, struggling to push away the grief that inspired her song.
"Do you wish more time alone?" Ilorin took a moment to process what he had said. She could understand most of what was being said to her, but speaking was still difficult.
"No," she finally said. Releasing her hand, he gestured toward the table for them to sit. Still a bit dazed, Ilorin took her seat. Legolas removed a few books from his pack, and they began the day's lesson.
Midway through the morning, a sensation of being watched slowly entered Ilorin's awareness. She glanced around the library searching for the spying eyes. It appeared they were alone. She had almost shrugged off the sensation as overactive imagination when Legolas said, "Good day Henohîth." Ilorin tensed at the mention of his name. In the weeks since her arrival she often saw him lurking nearby, his grey eyes focused intently on her. In their depths swirled a conglomerate of emotions she had neither the perception or wisdom to decipher.
"Good day Prince Legolas. Ilorin," spoke Henohîth from behind them.
"I was sent by the king to check your progress in teaching her." Looking down at their open books on the table he realized that Legolas was teaching Ilorin to read and write.
"Prince, do you really think teaching her to read and write is necessary? Those skills would be of little use among her kind. I believe they gave up such civilized pursuits hundreds of years ago."
"Yes. I do," the tone of his reply left no room for argument. Legolas was quickly becoming annoyed with Henohîth's presence. He, like Ilorin, had noticed him frequently lurking near them in the past few weeks. "Let's continue," he spoke to Ilorin turning back to their open books. The lesson continued for an hour more. Ilorin studied pronunciation, vocabulary and the alphabet. By the end of the hour, she felt the slight beginnings of a headache and was grateful with Legolas finally dismissed Henohîth who bowed slightly and took his leave.
After he left Ilorin sighed, only then realizing how tense Henohîth's presence made her feel. It was difficult not to glare at him in his obvious condescension. Though her people were largely nonviolent, she felt compelled to strike out at him. ~If one arrogant elf disturbs my emotional state so easily, perhaps the Temple was correct in releasing me. Certainly a truly balanced individual would not react so strongly.~ Shaking off that line of thought before before sadness took hold of her, Ilorin smiled at Legolas. "Walk. Forest? Eat?" she said pointing toward the window.
"You wish to take a walk in the forest and have lunch?"
"Yes," nodded Ilorin widening her smile.
"Wonderful idea," said Legolas smiling back. They quickly put away their books. Ilorin grabbed her satchel and cloak, while Legolas placed his pack on his shoulders and grabbed a basket stuffed with luncheon items. They walked down the stair and exited the library into the warm midday sun. Ilorin paused and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the forest. Despite her longing for Hassana and the confusion of many unanswered questions, she truly loved the forest. The sensation of being surrounded by the spirit force of the trees was a great comfort, like being held in mother's arms.
They continued along a narrow path, going deeper into the forest. Legolas clasped Ilorin's hand as he often did on such walks, the warmth of his firm grasp guiding her among the trees. Eventually they came to a small clearing covered with a bed of crinkly dry leaves. Legolas spread a blanket atop the leaves and began removing the contents of the luncheon basket. Ilorin sat gratefully on one corner of the blanket. Her legs were beginning to tire. Though she was accustomed to strenuous physical activity, the elves seemed to never tire and she often had to push herself to keep up.
An hour later, Legolas lay on one end of the blanket with his hands beneath his head, staring up at the sky. His thoughts drifted, aimless and fleeting as the clouds above. In that moment, as the warm light of the sun shined upon his face and the silence of the forest surrounded them, he knew peace.
Ilorin lay on her left side, watching Legolas from the other end of the blanket. The blue of the sky was mirrored perfectly in his eyes. She felt she could watch him, indeed any elf, for hours. The warm light of their inner beauty and their physical perfection were fascinating. To Ilorin, the elves were as awe inspiring as the most colorful sunset or the brightness of a full moon.
Acting on impulse, she quickly sat up and reached for her brown satchel and removed her silver flute. She placed the flute to her lips and began to play the music she saw reflected in Legolas' eyes.
When Ilorin began playing, Legolas closed his eyes, absorbing the simple melody. In the weeks she had been among them, this was the first time he heard her play. As he listened, the spirit of the melody danced into his soul and he began to sing the words he heard in her music:
so the world goes on and on with all you ever knew they say the sky high above is cerulean blue
if every man says all he can if every man is true, do I believe the sky above is cerulean blue
if all you told was turned to gold if all you dreamed were new, imagine sky high above is cerulean blue....**
It was a song of hope, hope for humanity. His words and her melody intertwined, spiraling up and out through the forest. Together, they formed music so poignant in its intensity that the trees paused from their descent into winter slumber to listen.
Legolas' words ended as Ilorin played one last long, slow note. Neither moved as they each savored the last moment of perfect harmony. A bird, hidden amongst the trees, took flight, breaking the stillness.
Legolas sat up, turned toward Ilorin and said simply, "Thank you. " The barest wisp of a smile was upon his lips, and blue flame danced in his eyes. He felt truly honored that Ilorin had gifted him with her music.
"You are welcome," Ilorin smiled back at him excitedly. She rarely shared that depth of music with anyone but somehow she had known that Legolas would understand her music. She guessed it was his elvish nature that enabled him to hear the entirety of what she played.
"Your music, it sang of the whispers of my soul. Is such a gift common to your people?"
Ilorin looked down at the silver flute still in her hands. "Not common, but not unheard of. Most consider it to be of little importance," she said with a wistful note of sadness. Her musical ability had emerged on the eve of her thirteenth birthday. Some had said it signaled the awakening of magical gifts inherited from her powerful mother. Her family waited for many years but, she never developed any further abilities and by her twenty-fifth birthday the Mage council declared her magically blind.
Saddened by the downturn in Ilorin's mood, Legolas reach across the blanket and gently caressed her cheek. "It is sorrowful that the beauty of your gift was not fully appreciated."
Ilorin closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his soft skin against hers. ~lorin, what are you doing? He is an elf!~ She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. Her gaze pleaded for distance as she tilted her head away from him.
Legolas slowly lowered his hands and looked down. Her desire for distance was obvious in the emotional depths of her black eyes. He had become so involved in the moment that he began reacting to her as if she were an elf. He had naturally sought the depth of emotional connection all elves craved. ~I must remember that even though Ilorin is different, she is still a human. They cherish their emotional distance more greatly than gold. Perhaps, it is that their short lives do not allow them to evolve the maturity required to navigate truly deep connections with others.~
Suddenly, he remembered Aduial, or rather her absence. She was participating in a small arms tournament that day and Legolas had agreed that they would attend. "Ilorin, we must pack quickly. I had forgotten that we were to meet Aduial at the practice field."
Ilorin nodded and began helping Legolas clear the blanket. She only partially understood what he had said. Something about Aduial and practicing. It mattered not, she was grateful to be leaving the clearing. She needed something to carry her mind away from the last moments with Legolas.
~*~*~*~
CLANG!
CLANG!
The harsh sound of metal connecting forcefully with metal jarred Ilorin's senses. They had been sitting for the last two hours, watching fighters battle in elimination rounds. After many foot steps, turns, falls and jumps, dust from the dirt floor hung heavily in the air of the oval shaped building; it was little more than a large shed with a few benches for spectators. Ilorin looked up at the weathered beams of the high ceiling. She wondered how many elves had trained and fought there.
Eventually, there were two fighters left, Aduial and Henohîth. As far as Ilorin could see they were evenly matched though vastly different in their approach. Henohîth, wielding a long broad sword, repeatedly attempted to use his greater height and strength to defeat Aduial. She, using a butterfly sword, easily evaded his attacks with speed creative maneuvers.
Henohîth swung his broad sword and knocked one of Aduial's swords from her hand. Though she was surprised, her other sword arched through the air and connected with his sending it flying toward the ground. Before she could savor her victory, Henohîth unsheathed a short sword and hit Aduial's remaining sword with such force that it fell from her hand. With lightning speed, she dropped to the ground and spun in a circle with one leg extended outward. Her foot connected with Henohîth's left heel, knocking him backwards toward the ground. Grabbing Aduial as he fell and using her momentum, Henohîth was able to tumble across the floor with her until she was underneath him. His short sword was at her neck. A half smile of victory was upon his lips when she lifted one eyebrow and glanced downward. She held a small dagger over his heart.
"It appears we are even, Lord Henohîth," Aduial purred in a low voice.
"Perhaps, I will play rough next time, Lady Aduial," Henohîth replied before rolling away from Aduial. The heat of battle had melted his icy facade. He stood and offered her his hand.
Aduial placed her hand in his. His fingers lightly caressed the inside of her wrist as he pulled her to standing. Ignoring the tingling warmth radiating from his fingertips, Aduial looked directly in his eyes and said, "Not then, not now, not ever." Though she did not like him, it had not always been that way. When Henohîth first arrived in Thranduil's realm, a refugee from Rivendale not yet ready to depart Middle-earth's shores, they were initially intrigued by each other. They developed a friendship fueled by underlying physical attraction. As time passed, Aduial realized how ill-suited they were to each other. Eventually, once Henohîth was appointed royal advisor, their former friendship withered into the perpetual animosity that stood between them.
Henohîth's eyes narrowed at her rejection. He immediately returned to his previous unreadable mask of neutrality as he quickly dropped her hand. Ignoring her, he glanced at the people cheering. His grey eyes settled on Ilorin and Legolas. "What is she doing here?" He was not pleased that she had witnessed his battle with Aduial.
>From the small seating area, onlookers clapped heartily for the last two remaining warriors. They had greatly enjoyed the display of arms. Though centuries had passed since the elves engaged in combat, they were diligent in retaining their formidable skills.
Next to Legolas, Ilorin clapped unenthusiastically. The atmosphere of glorified violence was shocking, and left a queasy sensation in her stomach. She had never seen swordplay and combat fighting before. Though every family of the Ruling class in Hassana maintained small, private armies, they were rarely used beyond ceremonial purposes and it had been centuries since her people engaged in warfare. The influence of the Temple Imani, with their message of peace and the powerful magic of the Mage class, had succeeded in creating a secure balance of power.
"Come Ilorin, we must greet Aduial," said Legolas as he stood and gestured for her to follow.
Legolas lead Ilorin toward Aduial, who was smiling and accepting congratulations from several other elves. They bowed toward Legolas and nodded silently to Ilorin. Ilorin nodded in return, though they had already resumed speaking to each other in their musical language.
Ilorin glanced to her left and noticed Henohîth surrounded by a crowd of supporters. He gazed intently at her. She frowned and turned slightly away from him, wondering why he was ignoring his friends to stare in their direction. "I hope he is not up to mischief."
Legolas also noticed Henohîth looking in their direction. He could see that the others had become aware of Henohîth's scrutiny. The atmosphere among them had changed from congratulatory to one of anticipation. Everyone was waiting to see what Henohîth would do next. ~He is becoming a nuisance.~ Legolas thought with irritation.
Taking a lightweight sword from one of his friends, Henohîth strode toward Ilorin. "My Lady Ilorin," he began in a challenging tone, "perhaps you could grace us with a small demonstration of your weapons skill?" He offered the handle of the sword to her.
Ilorin stared at the sword for a few moments. She had no skill with such a weapon. Looking up into Henohîth's eyes she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could find the words to express herself, he interrupted.
"Please, Lady Ilorin," Henohîth said as he placed the handle of the sword in her hand, "my friends and I are most eager to see what techniques you might bring from your homeland."
Ilorin looked down from Henohîth's mocking face to the sword in her hand. It felt alien and altogether wrong. She looked back to his storm grey eyes. She quickly concluded that Henohîth was playing a game of power; he wished to assert superiority. ~How could such an exquisite creature contain such malice?~ Ilorin wondered.
Ilorin let the sword slip from her hand and fall to the dirt floor. "No fight. My homeland, my family no fight. I no fight," she said in a clear and steady tone full of unspoken meaning. She would not cower to him.
Again angered by her defiance and refusal to bend, Henohîth replied in a low and dangerous voice, "So be it, human." He spun on his heel and left. With Henohîth's departure, the remaining elves returned to congratulating Aduial and critiquing the tournament matches, though the jovial atmosphere was strained and full of forced gaiety.
Ilorin drifted away from the elves and stood alone, silently watching. She was certain beyond doubt that Henohîth was an enemy. ~I must tread very carefully in this land of strangers.~
Legolas leaned down and picked up the discarded sword. He stared at it, watching the light reflect from it's blade. He was shocked that Ilorin did not know how to use it. His curiosity about Hassana and how its people lived grew. Could it be that humans in her homeland did not live under constant threat of violence? Were they so civilized that they did not require their women to fight?
There had been a time in Middle-earth, long ago, when women were not usually taught the arts of war, but that time had long passed. Humans in Middle-earth were constantly at war and out of necessity, every able-bodied person fought. He turned to look at Ilorin. ~Eventually she will leave this realm. She must learn to defend herself.~ With that thought, Legolas decided that he would have to teach her.
~*~*~*~
* I Lhathron - one in a series of poems authored by an unknown human seer.
** Slightly altered lyrics from Enya's Carribean Blue
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