Title & Chapter Number: The Weeping of the Trees (Part 1 of the 'Pilgrim' story arc) 2/12
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: The Woodland Chronicles
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all its inhabitants are Tolkien's, not mine. I'd risk bankruptcy to own Legolas, though. How much would he cost me? Would they give me Haldir as a bonus? Or at least for a reduced price... A girl can dream, right?
Warnings: Incest! Don't like it? Don't read it! Simple. Also: consensual bondage, heavy sap, and angst.
Betas: Jilly! You rock! Yes, you do!
Cast: Elladan/Elrohir, slightly Legolas/Thranduil, Elladan/Elrohir/OC, Elladan/Elrohir/Thranduil implied. Oh, and Haldir's there, too. :-)
Timeline: Third Age, approx. 440 years prior to the Fellowship.
Spoilers: Nope, I don't think so.
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir travel to King Thranduil's court in Mirkwood to attend the feast celebrating Legolas's coming of age. Not only will this event change the young Prince's life forever, but that of several other Elves as well.
Notes: About the tale of Círdan with which this chapter begins: I am not really that smart. It is taken from the Encyclopedia that can be found on www.councilofelrond.com. It was written by Loriel and slightly adjusted by me.
Dedicated to Elisa and Jilly. You have both inspired me, in your own way. Thanks!
Chapter 2 - Apple Of My Eye
Mirkwood, June 2580, T.A.
"... In the Second Age, after the Flight of the Noldor, Círdan made alliance with Finrod who settled in Nargothrond to the east. With Finrod's help Eglarest and Brithombar were rebuilt from their destruction. In the year 172, when came the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Círdan aided Finrod in the defense of Hithlum against Angband. As further attacks by Morgoth forced Elves westward, they were sheltered in Círdan's Havens by the sea, and for this he faced the wrath of Morgoth. In the year 256, the Havens were besieged..."
Emlin was greatly bored. For more than two hours now, Faeldir, the tutor, had been talking non-stop, telling his little class of youngsters about the great Elves of the past. History class was, in fact, not so bad, but two hours of names, family trees and dates were terribly exhausting, especially on such a fair summer day in June. Emlin looked around. All his fellow students seemed to be in an equal state of boredom or an even worse one; all, with one exception, of course. Legolas was still sitting upright, instead of leaning tiredly on his elbows like the others, and his quill danced over the parchment in front of him, only halting to be dipped in the ink jar occasionally.
Emlin rolled his eyes. Why oh why had he befriended the teacher's pet? Looking at him now, as he sat making notes and listening attentively, one would almost think that the prince was boring. Which of course, as everyone who had ever conversed with him knew very well, he was not. Still, Legolas was not laughed at or scolded for his dedication and industry; quite the contrary, everyone seemed to like him, or more than that. Emlin was jealous. How was it possible that the model student in class was at the same time the best loved, and most desired one? 'Twas definitely not fair.
Two girls sat whispering together, throwing coy glances in Legolas's direction and giggling as only girls could. Yes, Legolas was undeniably one of the most desired Elves of Mirkwood - and with good reason. In spite of his young age, Legolas was definitely masculine. His body was slender, but powerful; his facial features, however young, well-defined and strong. According to the Elders, he bore a striking resemblance to his father, King Thranduil, when *he* was still a youngster; Emlin found that easy to believe, for father and son, even with the millennia separating them, still were very alike in appearance. Thranduil would, to the human eye, still look like a young man, but, as was to be expected, his many years of training, battle and ruling a kingdom had given him a more mature, more powerful appearance. Legolas, with his 200 years, still had a rather sweet and innocent aureole over him.
And lately, Legolas had been receiving even more attention than usual. His majority ceremony was drawing close, and Mirkwood was humming with anticipation, especially the many young Elves living there. The protocol asked of every royal to remain celibate until the official beginning of adulthood, marked by the festivities taking place on the 200th begetting-day. The night following those festivities, the young royal would usually - the protocol did not command this but it was common - take someone of his or her choosing into bed. It was an honour to be chosen, and with Legolas, it was even more than that. The rivalry was almost palpable.
Emlin had asked Legolas hundreds of times if he had made up his mind yet, but Legolas had shrugged every time. Which Emlin found peculiar. As long as Emlin had known him, Legolas had never had a special interest in one particular Elf; not once. Legolas was Emlin's best friend as Emlin was his, and the young Elf was sure that Legolas would have told him about it. Most Elves would be bouncing with impatience to end their celibacy, but Legolas did not seem to care at all. Surely the prince had physical needs? He was young, he was wanted... why the reserve?
Later that afternoon, the two Elves walked home together. To Emlin's dismay, Legolas rambled about the history lessons non-stop and with annoying enthusiasm.
"Oh, for the love of Eärendil," Emlin groaned, "for the past three hours I've been listening to Faeldir's endless talk, and now *you* start, too?"
Legolas grinned. "Were you actually *listening* to him then? It sure didn't look like it."
"Oh, shut up, teacher's pet," Emlin said, making a playful shove at Legolas's shoulder.
"I am not the teacher's pet," Legolas protested, laughing. "I just like history."
"Ah, come on, Legolas," Emlin said, "tell me, is there even a class you *don't* like?"
"Most definitely."
"Which one, then?"
"Dwarvish Poetry, to name one."
Both laughed hard. "Oh," Legolas added, "and I was also really unhappy with biology when we were working our way through the chapter about the dwarvish reproduction system."
"Ew," Emlin managed to say when their laughter finally started to subside, "now I've lost my appetite. Mother will be most unhappy."
"But seriously, Emlin," Legolas said then, "don't you think it's exciting to hear about all those strange, beautiful places in Middle-earth? I hope I get to see them all one day."
"Not me," Emlin said. "I am content here in Mirkwood, thank you very much."
"Boring!" Legolas laughed.
They had arrived at Emlin's house, and they halted. "Why don't you come inside, Legolas," Emlin said, "and have lunch with us? Mother says you're always welcome."
"I can't," Legolas said. "Father is expecting me home for lunch."
"Tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow too," Legolas said, shifting uneasily on his feet. "Maybe the day after that. You can also come and have lunch with *us*, if you like," he said.
"Never mind," Emlin muttered.
Legolas's face fell. "What is it, now?"
"I just don't understand why you always have to run off home after school," Emlin said, frowning. They had discussed this before. "The only time I get to see you outside class is when your father is too busy to spend time with you."
Legolas paled. "That is not true," he said defensively.
"It isn't? Then ask him if you're allowed to have lunch at my place today."
Legolas shifted again. "I'll ask for tomorrow," he said slowly.
Emlin threw his hands into the air. "Forget it," he said and he turned to go into the house.
"I just like to spend time with my father," Legolas called after him.
"And you don't like spending time with me?" Emlin retorted, turning.
"Of course I do! You know that."
"Show me then."
"How?"
"Let's skip class tomorrow and take a ride into the forest. We can take some food with us..."
"Are you insane? I can't skip class!"
"Why not, Legolas? Tell me, why not?"
"My father..."
"Oh, forget about your father!" Emlin exclaimed. "You're almost an adult, Legolas. Has it ever occurred to you that it's quite normal for adolescents to ignore their parents' orders every once in a while?"
"You don't understand," Legolas said, shaking his head. "If you want to make a ride, why can't we wait until we're free from class? If *I* stay away from school, then the others will think *they* can do the same. And it's important for me to learn. I *want* to learn. One day I will take over my father's crown and..."
"That day may be centuries, millennia away! And one missed day at school will not make you a less fit king!" Emlin stepped over the threshold, inside. "See you tomorrow, Legolas. In class!" And with those words, he shut the door behind him.
Legolas stood still for a moment, contemplating on what to do. Then he slowly turned and continued his path, deep in thought. It was all so easy for Emlin to say. That day may be millennia away... And what if it was not? Cruel fate had taken his mother's life, just like that; who could be sure that the same fate would not claim his father, too? The very thought seemed to cut off his air supply.
On the other hand, how could he expect Emlin to understand the bond he had with his father? Emlin came from a big family; his parents had to divide their time between nine children and it was inevitable that Emlin sometimes would be overlooked in the domestical chaos, while Legolas always had his father's full attention.
Legolas still had a frown on his face when he entered the hall of the palace, but his brow smoothed when the King came to meet him, blond and tall, his strong but graceful body clad in relatively simple, practical clothes: a white tunic, blue leggings and black boots.
"Welcome home, leafling," Thranduil said, hugging him to his chest. "The walls of this mansion sing with your very return."
"Perhaps it's my stomach you hear," Legolas laughed. "I'm starving."
Thranduil's eyes sparkled with humor. "Impatient youth!" he said.
Ten minutes later, they sat at the table, enjoying their modest lunch and conversing cheerfully. Legolas told his father how his classes had been, and Thranduil recounted what *he* had been doing that morning, for he deemed it important that his son learned which tasks came with being a king, especially now that Legolas was almost an adult. Of course, he did not burden Legolas with the more severe cases, for he wanted Legolas to live as normal and as carefree a life as possible. Alas, he had not been able to prevent his child from losing his mother; but he had continued to raise Legolas on his own and he had done so with his entire soul, doing it the way he thought his late wife would agree with and hoping with all his heart that he was doing well.
Looking at his son now as he was chattering about his vicissitudes in class, Thranduil secretly thought that he might have done even better than he could had hoped. Legolas was a son to be proud of; he was a quick learner, and, even more important, an eager one. He was quick with his mind and with his bow, a weapon he handled with more skill and ease than most Elves his age. After his coming of age, he would start following lessons in hand-to-hand combat, he would learn how to wield knives and different types of swords.
Thranduil had taught his son the basics of archery himself, until he had deemed it better that a real tutor took over. Legolas was also an experienced rider; the King of Mirkwood was known for his horseriding skills and he had taught Legolas everything he knew.
But besides being a promising student, Legolas was also in the possession of many other qualities. He was kind-hearted and compassionate, gentle, loyal and tactful, but passionate when something he believed in was at stake. His only flaw, perhaps, - if it could be called a flaw - was that he sometimes could be a bit too sensitive, too introvert. Not in the company of his father, or his closest friends, but with others, especially young Elves like himself. Thranduil sometimes wondered if Legolas wasn't still a bit too dependent for a boy his age; sometimes he almost resembled - not literally, of course - that young child again, hiding behind Thranduil's robes and silently begging his father to take care of him. But Thranduil did not think it necessary to worry about this; Legolas had lost his mother at a tender age. It was natural that he had learned to rely on his father after that. He would become more independent eventually, it would only take a little longer than with other young Elves. At any rate, Thranduil would continue to stimulate him on his path into adulthood and beyond. He was thankful for his son's love and faith in him, but Legolas also had to learn to have faith in others, and himself.
Thranduil studied his rambling son and knew instinctively that he was beaming with fatherly pride. Legolas reminded him of himself when he had been that age, although he had been more of a romper than his son, who had a more cautious way of handling things. Legolas's majority ceremony would take place in a month's time. How well Thranduil remembered his own excitement in the weeks preceding his ceremony! Legolas, however, seemed to feel rather neutral about it. Indifferent almost, as if it didn't affect him at all.
Thranduil smiled. He was very aware of the excitement among the young Elves in his realm, the rivalry, the gossip; which lucky Elf would be chosen to be Legolas's first? It would be a night of importance, Thranduil knew. An initiation in the arts of love, a memory Legolas would cherish for the rest of his life. Thranduil hoped that Legolas would choose well. Thranduil's smile turned a little sad. It was a well-known fact that all parents have at least a little difficulty seeing their children grow up and become sexually active, but he had never experienced it at first hand, until now. Yes, he felt melancholy. But, he concluded, it was only natural. After all, he'd been through the same changes in his own youth.
Then again, he did not have the impression that Legolas spent much time trying to decide who he would choose. For the thousandth time, Thranduil wondered if he should bring it up. Would Legolas want fatherly advice, or would he prefer to sort this out on his own? Legolas was unreadable in this, even to Thranduil.
The remainder of the afternoon, Legolas would be occupied with archery lessons and with his private tutor, who would be giving him music lessons today. Like most Elves, Legolas was gifted with a clear, beautiful voice, and his tutor, Aearon, was teaching him how to use it in song. After lunch, Thranduil bade his son goodbye with another firm hug.
"I'll see you tonight, leafling," he said.
~*~*~*~
That night, long after dinner was over and Thranduil had retreated to his private chambers, Legolas came to him. He did that more often, initially because he had had nightmares about his mother, later because he enjoyed a little talk with his father before going to bed. It was unusual; Oropher would never have permitted Thranduil to come to his private chambers, especially after nightfall, but Thranduil was not Oropher. He enjoyed those moments with his son and saw no reason to forbid it. Lately, he even allowed Legolas to drink a glass of wine with him before going to bed.
Legolas was in his sleeping garments, as always: loose-fitting leggings and a shirt, and he was barefoot. Thranduil watched him as he sat down comfortably on his father's bed, cross-legged, taking slow sips of his wine and fanning through some papers that lay strewn over the sheets. Thranduil couldn't suppress a smile. Perhaps it was for the best that he had not taken a new mate after his wife's death. The poor woman - or man - would definitely not be pleased with a situation like this; Thranduil's adolescent son stopping by at night unannounced and acting as if he were in his own room. And the King also didn't think that Legolas would be ready for someone new in his father's life. A replacement of his mother.
Legolas had told him what had been said between him and Emlin that afternoon, and Thranduil had sensed that Legolas really needed to get off his chest. They always talked openly. Thranduil had said that Legolas, of course, could go with Emlin after school tomorrow; and he had frowned secretly, for he wondered why Legolas was so hesitant to ask his father for so simple a thing. After all, their lunch appointments were as unofficial as could be, and Legolas should have known that Thranduil would gladly have given him permission to have lunch with Emlin and his family that afternoon.
Yes, in some ways Legolas was an enigma to his father. But then again, did not all adolescents have their little secrets for their parents?
Thranduil was roused from his little reverie when Legolas suddenly stood in front of him, stretching out his hand with the wine goblet in it. "May I have one more, adar?" he asked sweetly, but with a meaningful grin.
Thranduil looked up into his son's warm blue eyes. "Only one more, then," he said, and he motioned for the carafe, indicating that Legolas could pour himself another glass.
"I must practise," Legolas said, smiling mischievously as he filled his goblet. "The ceremony will take place in a month and everyone will be pouring me drinks all the time."
"Not as long as I'm around," Thranduil said, but he was smiling, too.
Legolas put his newly filled goblet on Thranduil's desk and stood behind his father, rested his chin on Thranduil's scalp and wrapped his arms around the King's neck in an affectionate embrace. Now that Legolas himself had brought up the subject, Thranduil thought this a good moment to gauge his son a little.
"Have you found a girl already to open the ball with?" he asked.
"The finding is not the problem," Legolas said. "It's narrowing the field down to one that's giving me sleepless nights."
Thranduil chuckled. "That bad, eh?"
Legolas stood upright, ending the embrace, and started threading his fingers through Thranduil's unbound hair, combing it thoughtlessly. "How did you ever pick one, adar?" he sighed.
"That was not so hard," Thranduil smiled, "with a lady like your mother around."
Legolas's fingers stilled for a moment and Thranduil heard the smile in his son's voice when he said, "Oh, how could I forget, you opened the ball with mother!"
"I did."
"So you knew from the beginning that she was the one, then?"
"Now you're making it sound a little too romantic," Thranduil said, smiling. "She was by far the most beautiful and charming lady, but a marriage wasn't the issue yet. I had no idea where it was leading to, but it felt right, so I asked her for the first dance."
A hesitating silence preceded Legolas's next question. "Did you also ask her... to..."
"To spend the night with me?" Thranduil completed for him. "Yes, I did. But, Legolas, do not burden yourself with worries too much; no one is asking you to choose your future wife. Choose someone you feel comfortable with. One of the reasons it was so easy for me to choose your mother, was that she was pleasant to talk to." With a smirk he added, "Unlike some other girls."
"I know what you mean," Legolas said with a sigh, "some girls are just so shallow. All they're interested in, is bedding a prince and then bragging afterwards, discussing everything with their friends..."'He shivered. "The thought alone..."
Thranduil smiled. "That's the price we pay, my son. We must learn to accept that some people like us just because of our royal title. But not everyone is like that. Surely you know of at least one nice lady whom you trust and feel comfortable with?"
"Several," Legolas said, "but they are my *friends*. I can't take one of them in my bed. That would be just so awkward."
Something suddenly dawned on the King. Something that might explain Legolas's uncertainty in this matter. "Legolas," he said, turning around to face his son, "you *do* know that you don't necessarily have to choose a female, don't you?"
Silence. Legolas's cheekbones pinked. "Yes..." he said.
"Is that what you were worried about?" Thranduil said, taking one of Legolas's hands. Legolas's blushing and stuttering confirmed this. "You are free to choose whoever you wish, leafling," he said. Then, he added with a smile, "as long as you're not stepping on someone else's territory, of course."
Legolas laughed, and the discomfort eased. "I realize this, adar," he said, "thank you."
Thranduil wondered if there was a particular Elf Legolas was thinking of, but decided he should not ask. Legolas seemed more cheerful already, as he sat down on the bed again and drank his wine. They talked long, about more trivial things, until Thranduil sent his son to bed. Legolas gave the King an affectionate hug and a kiss on the cheek, then left for his own room.
Thranduil watched his son go, smiling. He was almost a man now, but still not too old to be in need of some fatherly advice. Thank the Valar. Thranduil stood from his chair, collected the papers that lay all over his bed and piled them on the nightstand for a little reading before going to sleep. Then, started to disrobe. It was late already, and both king and prince had an early start tomorrow.
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