Title & Chapter Number: Wish Upon The Stars (Part 2 of the 'Pilgrim' story arc) 8/?
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 don't mean to steal them; I'm just borrowing them for my enjoyment.
Warnings: Lots of character development, not much sex. Sap and angst. Twincest
Betas: Jilly. Still the best.
Cast: Haldir, Legolas, Rúmil, Orophin, Celeborn, Galadriel, the entire Lothlórien bunch. Elladan/Thranduil/Elrohir are the only ones getting it on for now, though. There might be new pairings as the story develops.
Timeline: Third Age, approx. 440 years prior to the Fellowship.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: Legolas arrives in Lórien to begin his training as a warrior under Haldir's supervision. In the process, he discovers things about himself he'd never dreamed of. Haldir, in the meantime, finds that even one immortal is never too old to learn.
Notes: The description of Haldir's hair style is completely based on the movies. I noticed that the Elves that are with him in the flet-scene of the Extended DVD, have the same style, so I figured it's a typical Lórien thing. The stream called Ivorlind is entirely my own invention.
Chapter 8 - Leisure Activities
Lórien
Accompanied by the vicious, biting sounds of metal against metal, the two Elves danced an exilhirating dance together, moving in and out of each other's reach, circling around each other like predators, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The graceful but deadly swords of the Galadhrim gleamed in the hot, afternoon Sun of August, as did the torsos and faces of the two Elves. This had been going on for quite some time.
The slighter one of the two had an expression of complete concentration on his face. The other, although concentrated as well, had a glow of mirth in his midnight-eyes as he moved in slow, catlike steps. His sword at the ready in his hand, he did not use it to strike, only to fend off the blows the other delivered him. For now...
"What are you waiting for, Legolas?" he challenged his younger adversary. "Are you hesitating?"
Legolas did not reply. Not one muscle in his face told the beholder that he'd even heard the remark. His eyes followed every movement his opponent was making. No matter how many times he'd fought Haldir over the past two years, his teacher's fighting style was never predictable. There was no time for even the slightest distraction.
"No?" Haldir continued. "Are you testing my stamina, then? Or my patience?"
Still Legolas did not speak. It was all part of the training. Not even so long ago, he would have accepted the bait, making it easy for Haldir to disarm him. Distraction, loss of focus, was deadly. Legolas had learned that lesson; Haldir could talk himself hoarse as far as Legolas was concerned. He was not going to let Haldir distract him today.
A sparkle in the eyes, a slight tilting of the chin... Legolas had spent so much time looking at Haldir's face, he knew exactly when the other Elf was going to place another remark. This time, before Haldir had uttered a sound, Legolas tried a fast, powerful blow, meant to disarm. Haldir, caught off-guard in spite of himself, moved just in time to block it. For a moment, their blades strained against each other; the effort visible in both faces, until the Elves broke swiftly apart.
"Oh, that was sweet, Legolas," Haldir breathed, "very good."
"I thought you knew, Haldir," Legolas said, allowing himself to break the silence this time. "Distraction is deadly."
Haldir smiled at the use of one of his own much-repeated lessons. "Not this time," he said.
"Maybe the next," Legolas growled.
"Ah." A smirk slid over Haldir's lips. "Are you smelling victory?"
"I don't know. How does it smell?" Legolas, never one to avoid self-mockery, retorted.
Haldir laughed. "One of these days, you will know," he said. "You are improving fast. I will have to prepare myself for humiliation."
A melodious baritone now sounded from several meters away. "It can hardly be called humiliation, when a teacher is bested by his own pupil."
Thranduil was sitting on the stairs that led down to the glade where Haldir and Legolas practised, as he had done several times over the past weeks. One knee drawn up to his chest, a hand supporting his chin as he watched the two Elves' activities with interest. What he had seen these weeks pleased him; his son was progressing well, and Haldir had truly been a good choice as Legolas's teacher. He was patient, saw every tiny flaw in Legolas's fighting and seemed to know exactly what to do to correct them. One of the most important things being that he was teaching Legolas self-control and patience in battle. Legolas no longer hurled attack after attack at his teacher; he had learned to wait and take his chances, when they came.
Haldir laughed again. "That is true, my Lord. And when the moment comes, it will make me proud, not sad. I am not afraid to bite the dust; not as long as my opponent is a friend instead of a fiend."
Thranduil stood and came over to the two Elves, bringing with him the two towels that always lay ready for when a lesson was over. Legolas, at receiving the towel, handed his father the Lórien sword and sighed thankfully as he drew the cloth over his heated, sweat-sheened face.
Thranduil gauged the weight of the sword in his hands and admired the stunning piece of craftsmanship, the delicate turn of wood in the hilt. It felt different in his hand than his own sword, and he did a couple of practice swings to get to know the feel of it.
Haldir, who stood wiping his hands and the hilt of his sword, noticed the King's interest, and smiled.
"A fine swing," Thranduil commented. "A good sword. The spiders of Mirkwood would soon learn to flee at the mere sight of it, although they fear our far-flying arrows even more."
"Shall I take you on, adar?" Legolas challenged.
Thranduil smiled. "No, Legolas. I enjoy archery competitions with you, but never would I take up a blade against my own child."
"Why not? Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" Legolas teased.
"No, Legolas," Thranduil laughed. "I'm just not comfortable with the idea. A matter of principle."
Haldir threw his towel over a nearby branch. "I would take you on, sire," he said.
Thranduil and Legolas turned to him. "A match, Haldir?" Thranduil asked.
"No match." Haldir smiled. "A friendly trial."
The two Elves studied each other for a moment, measuring and assessing. They were accomplished warriors, both of them. Thranduil the older of the two, the one with more years of experience behind him, but Haldir had the benefit of combat being his daily occupation. They were of an equally powerful build, probably of equal speed as well.
"You are at a disadvantage," Thranduil said. "Two hours of training will show in your speed and strength."
"You wield a sword that's not your own," Haldir said. "Perhaps that will make it even."
Thranduil smiled. Actually, the thought of crossing blades with Haldir *had* occurred to him. To see a skilled warrior in action always made him crave to put those skills, and his own, to the test.
"Perhaps we should do this another day," Thranduil suggested. "With you fresh and rested, and me with my own sword. It would be fairer."
"We can do that," Haldir said. "But I thought you'd like to test *this* sword, for real."
Thranduil turned to Legolas, but he only needed to look upon his son's face to know what he thought of this; the youth's eyes were glimmering with excitement over the prospect of his father and his teacher testing their skills against each other. Thranduil conceded.
He put the sword aside for a moment and began to open the clasps at the front of his tunic. "I don't know if this is a good idea, didactically speaking," he laughed. "Legolas will either see his father or his teacher stripped of his pride."
Haldir shook his head, smiling. "Where two Elves fight, one is bound to be defeated. When skills are well-matched, luck steps in. The dice can roll either that way or the other. The next time, the chances are again fifty-fifty. And besides..." Haldir turned to Legolas. "I never tried to make Legolas believe I was infallible."
"No one is," Thranduil agreed.
"Is that a lesson?" Legolas asked, throwing the towel, which he'd rolled up, over his shoulder.
"A very important one," Haldir said. "You will see how important when you join the patrol."
A broad smile appeared on Legolas's face. The patrol... Would Haldir let him join, then? Soon?
Passing Elves were halting their steps, gathering at the rim of the glade. Haldir and the Mirkwood Prince engaged in practice, that was something they could see every day. But the King! That was a rare sight.
Thranduil opened the bottom clasp of his tunic and, taking it by the collar with both hands, lifted it from his shoulders to remove it, thus revealing the skin painting on his right upper arm; green fern-leaves etched artfully into his fair skin, symbolizing his commitment to Mirkwood. A soft murmur rose from the crowd when it appeared, for few Elves had ever seen something like that on an Elf. They found it intriguing though... It made the stunning northern king even more exotic in their eyes.
Legolas accepted the garment from his father and, removing himself, left the glade to the two older Elves. Thranduil sliced the air with graceful swings of the blade, trying to become familiar with the feel of it. Haldir gave him a minute, but then took position opposite the King, and Thranduil followed his example. After a greeting that marked the beginning of a friendly fight, one between warriors with no intention to kill, it began.
Legolas watched with great interest as Thranduil and Haldir exchanged the first blows of steel against steel. He'd seen his father fight many times before, and it always filled him with awe. In battle, Thranduil combined several different qualities; he had the maneuverability of an antelope, the grace of a leopard, and also the sleek, strong build of that great hunting cat; slim waist and hips, long limbs, and muscled shoulders. But as he lunged at his adversary, he reminded those watching of a stag, because of the speed and explosiveness of his movements, and the sheer power behind his blows. He reminded of a stag battling a rivalling male for dominance.
But Haldir had earned his stripes as a warrior as well, and as he'd taught Legolas, one should never underestimate his opponent. Legolas knew that Haldir would not be taken by surprise.
As he watched, Legolas understood once again how much he still had to learn. The two Elves were indeed as well-matched as their reputations predicted, and although it was only, as Haldir had called it, a friendly trial, in the eyes of an ignorant observer there would have been nothing friendly about it. Both Elves were obviously challenged by the skill of the other, and as the minutes progressed, the mutual jabs and blows became more heated.
It became increasingly clear to Legolas, though, that the length and the viciousness of the trial were slowly tipping the scales in favor of the Mirkwood King. As Legolas had experienced first-hand, patience and level-headedness were Haldir's greatest talents in battle. When engaged in a match, he could draw it out for ages, as long as his strength allowed him. The moment his opponent became tired, or negligent, or sloppy, he'd strike. In this particular case, however, it was different: the longer the trial lasted, the more time Thranduil had to grow used to his weapon. Therefore, Haldir was forced to attack more frequently and harder than he'd usually do. Alas for him and the watching Lórien Elves, not with the desired effect. Against the courageous Marchwarden, already drained by two hours of practice with Legolas, Thranduil was slowly getting the upper hand.
However, Haldir was not the kind of Elf to give up without a fight, and after almost fifteen minutes both males were panting and perspiring with the effort. Legolas noted with amusement how several of the spectators were watching the scene with open mouths. It made them look rather silly, but Legolas understood the reaction. The fighting Elves were a sight to behold; gyrating bodies and swirling mane. His father was wild and beautiful and breathtaking like an untamed animal in battle and drew many eyes to him, but Legolas's attention was mainly focused on Haldir.
When it slowly became clear that Haldir would have the worst of it eventually, Legolas felt pride on his father's behalf. But a part of him would have liked to see Haldir victorious, too, and he was just starting to feel a little sorry for Haldir, who was losing a home match here, when the expression on Haldir's face made him come to a realization. Haldir's eyes were glimmering, but not with anger over his defeat, near at hand. No, he was enjoying it! Not the defeat in itself, but the trial as a whole; the matching of skills with a worthy adversary. Legolas felt a little guilty then, as he remembered the words Haldir had once spoken to him: "You mustn't be so focused on winning..." Legolas knew he had learned since then, but he still hadn't fully grasped that lesson!
In the end, Thranduil succeeded in disarming Haldir, knocking the sword out of the fatigued Marchwarden's hand. Before Thranduil could move his blade to Haldir's throat and claim his victory, Haldir moved out of Thranduil's reach, quick as a flash, and dived for his sword. Thranduil recovered swiftly and beat Haldir to it, placing his foot on Haldir's sword, pinning it to the ground. This time, the blunt side of Thranduil's blade came to rest alongside Haldir's throat. Haldir lay panting on the ground. One of his hands, which had been reaching for his sword, stilled; the other he raised slowly.
"I concede defeat," he laughed breathlessly. "I know when I'm beaten."
It took a moment before the trance was broken, but when a smiling Thranduil helped Haldir stand, the crowd began applauding softly to express its appreciation. Thranduil and Haldir, who seemed to have forgotten about the presence of the spectators, looked around in surprise, then turned to each other again.
"That was excellent, my Lord," Haldir said. His face and eyes were beaming, and he held out his hand to shake Thranduil's. "That was a well-earned victory."
Thranduil's face was flushed as well. "I still think you were at a greater disadvantage, Haldir," he shrugged, accepting Haldir's hand. "But you fought bravely, and I was never sure of my victory until you spoke the words. Next time, when the chances are even, the outcome can be very different!"
Haldir grinned. "Perhaps. It will be interesting, that is a sure thing."
The crowd started to thin as the Lórien Elves continued their path, but Legolas came over and hugged his father briefly.
"Well done, adar," he said, "a victory for Mirkwood."
"Nothing was at stake here, Legolas," Thranduil said gently, "least of all, the honours of our realms."
"I know," Legolas said mischievously, "but still..." Looking at Haldir, he suddenly laughed. "My father literally made you bite the dust, Haldir! Look at you."
Haldir inspected himself and noticed, indeed, sand and dirt sticking to him. He ran a hand over his hair and encountered a dry leaf, which he removed with a self-conscious smile.
"We all need some refreshment, I believe," Thranduil said.
"That can be realized," Haldir said, picking up his sword from the ground. "Follow me."
~*~*~*~
Haldir led them to a secluded pool in one of the quieter corners of Caras Galadhon. Its surface was smooth like a mirror, except for one large rock near the center of the pool, and it appeared to be rather deep. It was fed by a small stream coming from the north.
"That stream comes from the mountains," Haldir explained. "We call it Ivorlind, Crystal Tune, for at some nights, when there is no wind in the treetops and no other sound can be heard, its rippling is like a song. We keep an eye to it that no child builds a dam in it, for we believe that it would make Ivorlind out of tune, and its songs lessen."
"Have you ever heard it, Haldir?" Legolas asked.
"No..." Haldir said with regret. And with a smile he added, "It is said that it can be heard only by Elves in love."
"And you have never been in love?" Legolas blurted out.
Thranduil shot his son a warning glance, telling Legolas, that was a private matter. Legolas, immediately regretting the question, blushed; but Haldir smiled faintly and replied, "That would be news to me."
Legolas, if possible, blushed even harder. To help his son out of his predicament, Thranduil turned to Haldir and asked cheerfully, "I assume you brought us here for the much-desired refreshment, Haldir?"
Haldir nodded. "Feel free to have a swim," he said. "This pool is rarely used at day so you will have privacy. The water coming from the mountains is cold, but the Sun has had the opportunity to warm it today. It will be a pleasant dive."
Thranduil bent down to remove his boots, but Legolas stood as if nailed to the ground. He wasn't sure if he dared to undress himself in Haldir's presence. But Haldir solved this for him when he turned and said, "I will return shortly with towels and cleaning accessories. If you'll allow me, I will stop by at your talans to get you some clean clothes, as well."
"A very good idea," Thranduil agreed, who already stood untying the laces of his leggings.
Haldir regarded his younger friend. "Legolas?"
"Yes," Legolas said, coming to his senses with a start, "please do so."
Haldir gave a nod. "I'll be back soon," he promised, and disappeared between the trees.
Thranduil stepped out of his leggings and walked away from Legolas to stand on the edge of the pool, gauging its depth. Satisfied, he climbed on a large boulder and fearlessly dived into the water with a dolphin's grace.
Keeping his eyes on the surface, waiting for his father to reappear, Legolas quickly removed his own boots and leggings. Finally, Thranduil's blond head broke through the surface, and, shaking his mane back over his shoulders, he turned to see where Legolas was. He frowned in mock dismay when he saw Legolas wading into the water.
"Are *you* a son of mine?" he called. "Are you afraid your dive will pale into insignificance beside mine?"
"Oh, but yours wasn't at all that good, adar," Legolas teased. "I didn't want to make you feel bad by showing off my superior skills."
Thranduil laughed. "My son," he said dramatically, "modesty incarnate."
For the next ten minutes, they paddled and splashed relaxedly, allowing the water to wash away the sweat and the dirt. Legolas found himself listening with propped-up ears, waiting for the song of Ivorlind against his better judgment; it was clear day, there was too much noise... And even if those circumstances *were* right, would the stream sing for him? It sang only for Elves in love, and even Haldir, who'd lived in Lórien all his life, had never heard it...
"Legolas!"
His father's call started him from his musings. Turning, he saw Thranduil standing on the rock in the middle of the pool. A light shone from his face and Legolas thought with contentment, that his father seemed to be so much happier these days than he had been two years ago.
"Watch!"
And spreading his arms like an eagle, Thranduil catapulted himself off the rock and dived forward. Before touching the water, he brought his arms together, leaving only a couple of ripples as he disappeared under.
"Not bad," Legolas said when Thranduil reappeared. "But I can do that better."
"You'll have to prove that," Thranduil said.
Legolas climbed onto the rock, swift as a lizard, and took position. "Backwards?" he proposed proudly.
"Backwards is an easy job," Thranduil snorted. "Do a somersault, if you think you're all that."
After a few seconds of concentration, Legolas dived, throwing his weight forward and feeling himself spin rapidly in mid-air, until he stretched and glided under water, after what he knew was a successful somersault. In the sudden silence under water, Legolas felt his heart hammer with excitement.
"I admit, that was good," Thranduil said at Legolas's reappearance. "You beat me this time."
"I thought they were both rather impressive," Haldir said good-heartedly.
Two blond heads turned to the shore, where the Marchwarden stood with a pile of clothing and towels. He smiled mildly, as an older Elf amused by the play of two children. Legolas felt like sinking under water, never to appear again, when he realized that Haldir had seen him naked; Thranduil merely grinned.
"An objective referee," he quipped, "as if sent by the Valar. I demand a rematch, Legolas."
"No, better not, adar," Legolas mumbled. "I think I over-stretched a muscle just now."
Seeing his son's embarrassment, Thranduil immediately understood that it was a lie, and he smiled gently. If Legolas was still so uncomfortable with being naked in front of others, then difficult times were at hand for the poor boy; for within border patrols, collective swims and displays of nudity were nothing unusual. And of all possibilities, it had to be Haldir who saw him make that dive...
"I brought towels and clean clothes," Haldir said, separating Thranduil's pile from Legolas's and placing them on a rock. "And some soap as well."
"Thank you, Haldir," Thranduil said warmly as he started to swim to shore. "Will you not allow yourself the pleasure of a swim now?"
"I most certainly will." Haldir bent at the waist to pull off his boots.
Looking back over his shoulder, Thranduil saw the look of panic on Legolas's face, and, understanding that this was a genuinely uncomfortable situation for Legolas, took pity on his son.
"Come, Legolas," he said. "I want to wash my hair. Will you braid it for me?"
Thankful for the distraction this offered, Legolas swam after him. "Yes, certainly."
Standing chest-deep in the water by the edge of the pool, Legolas unbraided his father's hair with swift fingers. Behind him, Haldir glided into the water and began to swim. Legolas felt ridiculous and childish. They were Elves; Elves saw each other naked all the time, there was nothing strange about it. Elves, for whom sensuality was a part of their nature. But... no, to Legolas it didn't feel sensual at all; only very uncomfortable. Not that he wasn't curious. He'd seen Haldir stripped to the waist many times, and it had been promising and he wouldn't mind seeing more... but the very thought made him flush from head to toe.
Thranduil used soap to clean his hair, then rinsed it, while Legolas did the same with his own. Stepping onto dry land then, they dried their locks as well as they could and wrapped themselves in their towels, before they sat down on shore and Legolas started to brush his father's hair. They did that often in Mirkwood, making each other's braids rather than letting a servant do it. He used the brush to make several sections of hair, then started to braid with experienced fingers.
When he was almost done, Haldir came swimming to shore and watched for a little while, his arms resting on a rock and his chin on his hands. He appeared to be very relaxed today.
"You do that very well," he commented at one point. "Can I convince you to use your skill on me, as well?"
"Certainly," Legolas said, smiling happily. "If you unbraid and wash it now, I'll be with you in a second."
There was another uncomfortable moment some minutes later when Haldir, with dripping wet hair, pulled himself up onto shore, but Legolas solved it by turning to his father and pretending to do a last inspection of his handiwork.
When Haldir sat down in front of him, wrapped in a towel himself, Legolas lifted a handful of the heavy locks and started to brush. "Do you have requests?" he asked.
"The usual, I guess," Haldir replied.
Legolas wrinkled his nose. "Why do you always wear your hair in such a silly fashion?" he asked.
"Silly?" Haldir said, pretending to be hurt. "What is silly about my hair? It's not so different from yours."
"Those locks you wear in front of your ears," Legolas said. "They fall over your chest. It's ludicrous, and unpractical at that."
"It's how warriors have their hair in Lórien," Haldir defended his hair style. "And it's not ludicrous!"
"We'll see." A plan had formed in Legolas's mind, and he continued to brush Haldir's hair with a smile on his face. It was nice to do this, intimate somehow. He wished he could see Haldir's face.
He did see Haldir's face, though, when he had finished the braids and his friend studied his reflection in the water; it was quite funny.
"You monster!" Haldir laughed. "Son of a dragon!" Turning quickly to Thranduil, "No offense, my Lord..."
Legolas had given Haldir the hair style of a Mirkwood warrior, without the offensive locks in front of the ears; it was how Legolas usually had his hair.
"A little joke, Haldir," Legolas smiled. "No need to be so dramatic about it. You look real handsome now."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Haldir smirked.
"Tell him, adar," Legolas said to Thranduil. "Doesn't this look better?"
"I'm hardly objective," Thranduil smiled, "hauling from Mirkwood myself. But it looks good on you, Haldir. You won't be laughed at, I assure you."
"Well," Haldir said, "in honour of the King and Prince of Mirkwood, I'll keep it like this today. But only if you do me one favor, Legolas."
"And what is that?" Legolas asked.
With an evil smile, Haldir picked up the brush. "Let me braid your hair, Legolas, and all will be forgiven."
Legolas laughed as he surrendered to Haldir's hands. What else could he do? If he guessed Haldir's intentions right, and he thought he did, the Prince of Mirkwood would spend the rest of the day walking around with locks in front of his ears.
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