Post by Admin on Oct 1, 2024 14:52:23 GMT
Summary = Legolas allows his mind to wander back in time as he anxiously waits for his love in Valinor. Written in 1st person POV. Slash implied.
Rating = K
Author = Cassie Hughes
The tree in which I rest sings a different song to those that I have left behind and although it is just as soothing, just as beautiful, I can not help but miss the voices of those who were my friends for so many years. I wonder if they still thrive. I hope with all my heart that they do.
A gruff voice insinuates itself into my melancholy thoughts and pulls my mind back to present times, the here and now for which I should be so very grateful. Yet, part of my heart betrays my head, and wishes for those dangerous days when life had drive and purpose and new challenges lay around every corner.
My life’s beginning has ever been shrouded in mystery. A foundling, uncovered by a King lost to grief and nearing the total collapse of his sanity. An anchor to a world grown desolate and bleak, to a responsibility never looked for, a kingdom in disarray. A small beacon of hope to be clung to and kindled with the single-minded determination and strength of will that would become his oft criticized characteristic trait.
For my part I can say that I would have had no other father in my life. I remember strong arms and the scent of green leaves and petrichor surrounding me whenever I was most in need. From child to adult, with unconditional love and support, he has always been there.
I remember a melodious voice singing me to sleep or raised in celebration, an indulgent smile, a twinkling, mischievous eye, a tender touch, a wine tinted kiss. All aspects of a loving father, oft hidden in later years from an ever-darkening world yet etched forever in my heart.
I remember the green beauty of my forest home and its insidious decline into a darkness. The way the sunlight found its way through the canopy to highlight the underlying floral sprays smiling up to receive its warmth. The way those small pockets of light gradually diminished and became more and more difficult to find and the once fragrant forest floor became earthy and dank.
The defiant trees worked their hardest to deny the spread yet Sauron’s influence was too strong. Their song began to dwindle, driven down to a murmur that required concentration to hear. It broke our hearts as our beloved home succumbed even as we fought our hardest to rid it of the vile creatures that swarmed through and beneath its boughs. A seeming endless war neither side was prepared to lose yet to some appeared pointless as they grieved their losses.
I remember the many times I stood, side by side, with my father as we delivered news we had no heart to impart, to families and friends not wishing to believe it so. The air of loss and devastation that grew heavier and more cloying as time went on. Watching as families dwindled through death and departure. The oppressive feel of stone as we left our beloved trees and retreated to the caverns renamed the Elven king’s Halls, cutting ourselves off from the outside world as he became more and more bitter and unpredictable under the strain. He was still my father.
To outsiders we have always been deemed wild and dangerous, less wise than those who oft found fault with my father’s increasing withdrawal. Yet they did not have to contend with our demanding environs. The increasing pressure applied to both hearts and minds from the encroaching darkness. The weight bowing even the strongest will under its unrelenting load. I remember it well. I lived it all with them, fought beside them and tried my best to keep going when all seemed lost.
I near despaired when we failed in our charge, failed Estel.
Besmirched and near dropping from fatigue I remember when he brought us the creature, Gollum. When he begged for our aid in keeping the gaunt, bedraggled apparition confined, a prisoner for the good of the world and all in it but our hearts bled for his plight. That such a poor, unremarkable thing could ever be a danger seemed unimaginable, even to we who daily fought against the foul lords’ minions. Yet perhaps that was exactly why we were deceived. To our battle-weary eyes, evil wore its mark loudly. The orcs and spiders we daily fought showed their true selves in every way, each guttural cry voiced, each poisonous weapon wielded and their very looks could bring terror to the heart of even the stoutest of our warriors.
Yet here we were, charged to keep this small, seemingly helpless and defeated being caged and confined to the darkest reaches of our halls. Hidden from sight and cognisance, a secret known only to a handful of trusted guards under my own command. Was it our compassion at fault? Indeed, it was my own. I could not bear to see him thus confined. To keep him locked away in stone, away from light and all things green. To never see the stars or feel the wind on his face. To languish and dwindle away with no hope, no love, only despair. How could I not feel for his plight?
I could blame Estel for not sharing the full tale behind his request. I could blame my guards for not keeping a close enough watch. I could even blame my father for keeping us apart from the rest of the world with no information and no way of knowing what Mithrandir feared the creature had discovered. But no. The fault lay firmly upon my shoulders and I remember as if it were yesterday the price others paid for my folly. That pain is etched upon my fëa for an eternity.
I remember pleading with my father to be allowed to leave, though I was loath to go. To venture out to Imladris where I might find Estel and let him know the folly I had wrought. The concern creasing his brow when he begged me to stay, to send another in my stead. I knew he wanted only to keep me safe, as any father would a son, yet I also knew I could not in all conscious leave the awful truth to another to deliver. I had amends to make but did not realise to what ends those amends would take me.
Imladris, the last homely house east of the sea. A place of sanctuary and peace, well hidden from prying eyes at the edge of a narrow gorge of the Bruinen and within the moorlands and foothills of the Misty Mountains. I remember it so very well. ‘twas my second home for so long. The place my heart dwelled once I had had chanced to meet the sons of its master. The place that was so long the balm to my aching fëa. The place I eventually forsook as revenge and destruction superseded all else in my lover’s mind and duty and fealty bade me remain in the forest that was fast succumbing to the evil threatening to rule over it all. How could I not fight alongside my brethren and support my king and father through these darkest of times? How could I leave my people to despair, my home to be overrun? I could not, until with heavy heart I felt that I had no choice.
The valley seemed different as I returned to it once more. The peaceful aura more brittle, the very air thinner, cooler and less inviting. It felt as if the whole place was tensed, on edge, in dreadful anticipation but of what I could not tell. All I knew was that the sanctuary that once soothed my battered fëa was no longer the balm it once was and my heart mourned the loss.
Estel was not kind. There, before elves and men and of all the indignities, dwarves, he showed his disappointment. Let all see how we had failed him, how I had failed him. I remember the disillusionment in his eyes. How after all of his hard work in capturing the creature, it seemed that we had simply let him walk away. I wanted to rail at the injustice, to lay the blame at Mithrandir’s feet for letting us believe that Gollum could still be cured of his condition. To say that we had been duped by his emaciated and feeble form. Yet I would not debase myself with excuses before such company. I was, after all, my father’s son and pride decreed that I take the reproof quietly and with head held high, certain in the knowledge that others would have fared no better in the same circumstances.
I remember well the days following the council. The way my insides roiled in anticipation and apprehension. Switching between a profound longing to once again meet the one who still held my heart yet dreading the consequences of such an encounter after the inflammatory nature of our final parting. We ever had a fiery relationship yet that last altercation was so much more than either could withstand.
I remember the coolness of our eventual meeting. The matter-of-fact way he greeted me with a simple tilt of his darkling head. The way his lip curled as his eyes first lighted on my face, the challenge in those same, storm filled eyes. The heat that built in my core as I raked his glorious form, the rising pulse that echoed between my ears, the longing that I fought so hard to smother, yet knew he would read with an accuracy as deadly as the swing of his sword.
I remember too the nights that followed.
“Legolas! Laddie!”
Once again, I am brought back from my minds wandering as my dwarven friend calls from below. I know he is worried that I am spending too long in contemplation, too long watching for the dark horseman I long to see riding along the path that twists beneath my tree top perch. There is still no sign, no news that he is come.
“I am well!”
I call down, trying to imbue my voice with as much self-assurance as possible and hope that Gimli will leave me to my own thoughts again.
“Go back to the others my friend, I will be with you in a while.”
There is a loud ‘Harrumph’ then I hear the sound of heavy boots receding as the dwarf obeys my request and I lean back against the smooth bark marvelling at the friendship that has grown between two so disparate characters as we.
I can not remember when it was that our animosity finally waned yet I believe it was underneath the golden trees of Lothlorien that we finally came to understand each other. It was there, as we walked together, discussing at length the ways of our kind and the world that we came to realise that we were not so different after all and I came to look forward to those animated debates that to some sounded like arguments but to us meant so much more. His gruff and forthright nature was so different to the oft meandering and politically motivated elven dialogues that I had been used to that I could not help but find enjoyment in baiting him and I am sure he felt the same. I feel a smile cross my lips as I remember some of our more heated to and fro’s. No one was more surprised than I when the moment came that I realised my past enemy had become my fastest ally.
My heart suddenly jumps as I remember my Father’s face when first I took Gimli to my home after our quest was finally done. When the joy in his eyes at my safe return turned to an icy glare as he beheld the dwarf at my side. It took many days and nights to finally lay his prejudice to rest as he came to see through my eyes and accept our friendship, although he did not extend his goodwill to others of the dwarven race and I fear that he never will. That Gimli and I were bound in brotherhood due to all that we had faced in our quest to rid the world of that cursed ring made it easy for him to understand the closeness we now had. I think it was also helpful that although dwarves are long lived, they are not immortal so therefore he knew there would be a time when Gimli would no longer be by my side. Elves are patient and none are more so than my father.
My thoughts pass once again to my father. That glorious elf who could be loving and gentle as a father, yet stern and unforgiving as a King and I wonder how he fares. That he still lives is a certainty in my mind. Too stubborn and tenacious to fade, he would find his way in the world however it changed around him. I always knew in my heart that he would not sail yet that does not salve the hurt of being sundered from his love. Memories of the years spent under his care and affection are oft interspersed with those of his ruthless endeavour to keep our home and people safe and all of these different aspects bring tears to my ears. This is my father and I still would have had him no other way.
I feel a soft caress at my brow and a surge of compassion as a branch dips above my head to allow a leaf to gently stroke across my skin after the fashion of a father’s hand in love and reassurance. Although its touch is different it still soothes as the trees of the Greenwood used to do when I would find succour in their branches at times of trouble or distress and for a while my mind stills and I relax into a thoughtless fugue.
The sudden peal of a bell brings me back to myself with a start and it takes a moment for me to reconcile the sound with my position. As soon as realisation hits, my eyes turn towards the distant shore and my heart lurches within my chest. A ship. A ship is hoving in to dock as I watch. Do I dare to hope that finally my wait is over. That my love has had his fill of adventure at last and has come to join me here in peace. My eyes scan desperately across the few figures standing at its rails but do not spy the one I most wish to see. I feel a cold swell rising through me as I continue to search. He must be here, he must. He could not leave me here alone. Could he?
Did he not mean his last whispered words as we lay together on our final night together in Middle Earth? Has time eroded the memories of our reconciliation or did I never mean as much to him as he did to me? I try to calm my racing thoughts. No, surely, I would have felt it if that were so, though never formally bound I am certain our bond was true. I watch listlessly as the gangplank is lowered and disembarkation begins. Goods and people slowly make their way to the quayside to be greeted with hugs and cheer by the family and friends who have now gathered there. Then here is a flurry of activity on deck and the faint sound of hooves upon wood reaches my ears as two tall, dark figures begin to lead a pair of huge destriers from the ships hold and down the gangplank. My fëa lightens as I finally feel the pull of the other that has been missing for so long. The pair reach the dockside and as one figure turns to be embraced by the mother he has not seen for centuries past, the other blows her a kiss and swiftly pulls himself up onto his horses back. There is a short moment as the rider scans the surrounding area before they wheel to face the direction of the tree in which I am sitting, then they are off, galloping towards me as our songs reach out, merge and begin to soar together once more.
Rating = K
Author = Cassie Hughes
Rinas (Memories)
The tree in which I rest sings a different song to those that I have left behind and although it is just as soothing, just as beautiful, I can not help but miss the voices of those who were my friends for so many years. I wonder if they still thrive. I hope with all my heart that they do.
A gruff voice insinuates itself into my melancholy thoughts and pulls my mind back to present times, the here and now for which I should be so very grateful. Yet, part of my heart betrays my head, and wishes for those dangerous days when life had drive and purpose and new challenges lay around every corner.
My life’s beginning has ever been shrouded in mystery. A foundling, uncovered by a King lost to grief and nearing the total collapse of his sanity. An anchor to a world grown desolate and bleak, to a responsibility never looked for, a kingdom in disarray. A small beacon of hope to be clung to and kindled with the single-minded determination and strength of will that would become his oft criticized characteristic trait.
For my part I can say that I would have had no other father in my life. I remember strong arms and the scent of green leaves and petrichor surrounding me whenever I was most in need. From child to adult, with unconditional love and support, he has always been there.
I remember a melodious voice singing me to sleep or raised in celebration, an indulgent smile, a twinkling, mischievous eye, a tender touch, a wine tinted kiss. All aspects of a loving father, oft hidden in later years from an ever-darkening world yet etched forever in my heart.
I remember the green beauty of my forest home and its insidious decline into a darkness. The way the sunlight found its way through the canopy to highlight the underlying floral sprays smiling up to receive its warmth. The way those small pockets of light gradually diminished and became more and more difficult to find and the once fragrant forest floor became earthy and dank.
The defiant trees worked their hardest to deny the spread yet Sauron’s influence was too strong. Their song began to dwindle, driven down to a murmur that required concentration to hear. It broke our hearts as our beloved home succumbed even as we fought our hardest to rid it of the vile creatures that swarmed through and beneath its boughs. A seeming endless war neither side was prepared to lose yet to some appeared pointless as they grieved their losses.
I remember the many times I stood, side by side, with my father as we delivered news we had no heart to impart, to families and friends not wishing to believe it so. The air of loss and devastation that grew heavier and more cloying as time went on. Watching as families dwindled through death and departure. The oppressive feel of stone as we left our beloved trees and retreated to the caverns renamed the Elven king’s Halls, cutting ourselves off from the outside world as he became more and more bitter and unpredictable under the strain. He was still my father.
To outsiders we have always been deemed wild and dangerous, less wise than those who oft found fault with my father’s increasing withdrawal. Yet they did not have to contend with our demanding environs. The increasing pressure applied to both hearts and minds from the encroaching darkness. The weight bowing even the strongest will under its unrelenting load. I remember it well. I lived it all with them, fought beside them and tried my best to keep going when all seemed lost.
I near despaired when we failed in our charge, failed Estel.
Besmirched and near dropping from fatigue I remember when he brought us the creature, Gollum. When he begged for our aid in keeping the gaunt, bedraggled apparition confined, a prisoner for the good of the world and all in it but our hearts bled for his plight. That such a poor, unremarkable thing could ever be a danger seemed unimaginable, even to we who daily fought against the foul lords’ minions. Yet perhaps that was exactly why we were deceived. To our battle-weary eyes, evil wore its mark loudly. The orcs and spiders we daily fought showed their true selves in every way, each guttural cry voiced, each poisonous weapon wielded and their very looks could bring terror to the heart of even the stoutest of our warriors.
Yet here we were, charged to keep this small, seemingly helpless and defeated being caged and confined to the darkest reaches of our halls. Hidden from sight and cognisance, a secret known only to a handful of trusted guards under my own command. Was it our compassion at fault? Indeed, it was my own. I could not bear to see him thus confined. To keep him locked away in stone, away from light and all things green. To never see the stars or feel the wind on his face. To languish and dwindle away with no hope, no love, only despair. How could I not feel for his plight?
I could blame Estel for not sharing the full tale behind his request. I could blame my guards for not keeping a close enough watch. I could even blame my father for keeping us apart from the rest of the world with no information and no way of knowing what Mithrandir feared the creature had discovered. But no. The fault lay firmly upon my shoulders and I remember as if it were yesterday the price others paid for my folly. That pain is etched upon my fëa for an eternity.
I remember pleading with my father to be allowed to leave, though I was loath to go. To venture out to Imladris where I might find Estel and let him know the folly I had wrought. The concern creasing his brow when he begged me to stay, to send another in my stead. I knew he wanted only to keep me safe, as any father would a son, yet I also knew I could not in all conscious leave the awful truth to another to deliver. I had amends to make but did not realise to what ends those amends would take me.
Imladris, the last homely house east of the sea. A place of sanctuary and peace, well hidden from prying eyes at the edge of a narrow gorge of the Bruinen and within the moorlands and foothills of the Misty Mountains. I remember it so very well. ‘twas my second home for so long. The place my heart dwelled once I had had chanced to meet the sons of its master. The place that was so long the balm to my aching fëa. The place I eventually forsook as revenge and destruction superseded all else in my lover’s mind and duty and fealty bade me remain in the forest that was fast succumbing to the evil threatening to rule over it all. How could I not fight alongside my brethren and support my king and father through these darkest of times? How could I leave my people to despair, my home to be overrun? I could not, until with heavy heart I felt that I had no choice.
The valley seemed different as I returned to it once more. The peaceful aura more brittle, the very air thinner, cooler and less inviting. It felt as if the whole place was tensed, on edge, in dreadful anticipation but of what I could not tell. All I knew was that the sanctuary that once soothed my battered fëa was no longer the balm it once was and my heart mourned the loss.
Estel was not kind. There, before elves and men and of all the indignities, dwarves, he showed his disappointment. Let all see how we had failed him, how I had failed him. I remember the disillusionment in his eyes. How after all of his hard work in capturing the creature, it seemed that we had simply let him walk away. I wanted to rail at the injustice, to lay the blame at Mithrandir’s feet for letting us believe that Gollum could still be cured of his condition. To say that we had been duped by his emaciated and feeble form. Yet I would not debase myself with excuses before such company. I was, after all, my father’s son and pride decreed that I take the reproof quietly and with head held high, certain in the knowledge that others would have fared no better in the same circumstances.
I remember well the days following the council. The way my insides roiled in anticipation and apprehension. Switching between a profound longing to once again meet the one who still held my heart yet dreading the consequences of such an encounter after the inflammatory nature of our final parting. We ever had a fiery relationship yet that last altercation was so much more than either could withstand.
I remember the coolness of our eventual meeting. The matter-of-fact way he greeted me with a simple tilt of his darkling head. The way his lip curled as his eyes first lighted on my face, the challenge in those same, storm filled eyes. The heat that built in my core as I raked his glorious form, the rising pulse that echoed between my ears, the longing that I fought so hard to smother, yet knew he would read with an accuracy as deadly as the swing of his sword.
I remember too the nights that followed.
“Legolas! Laddie!”
Once again, I am brought back from my minds wandering as my dwarven friend calls from below. I know he is worried that I am spending too long in contemplation, too long watching for the dark horseman I long to see riding along the path that twists beneath my tree top perch. There is still no sign, no news that he is come.
“I am well!”
I call down, trying to imbue my voice with as much self-assurance as possible and hope that Gimli will leave me to my own thoughts again.
“Go back to the others my friend, I will be with you in a while.”
There is a loud ‘Harrumph’ then I hear the sound of heavy boots receding as the dwarf obeys my request and I lean back against the smooth bark marvelling at the friendship that has grown between two so disparate characters as we.
I can not remember when it was that our animosity finally waned yet I believe it was underneath the golden trees of Lothlorien that we finally came to understand each other. It was there, as we walked together, discussing at length the ways of our kind and the world that we came to realise that we were not so different after all and I came to look forward to those animated debates that to some sounded like arguments but to us meant so much more. His gruff and forthright nature was so different to the oft meandering and politically motivated elven dialogues that I had been used to that I could not help but find enjoyment in baiting him and I am sure he felt the same. I feel a smile cross my lips as I remember some of our more heated to and fro’s. No one was more surprised than I when the moment came that I realised my past enemy had become my fastest ally.
My heart suddenly jumps as I remember my Father’s face when first I took Gimli to my home after our quest was finally done. When the joy in his eyes at my safe return turned to an icy glare as he beheld the dwarf at my side. It took many days and nights to finally lay his prejudice to rest as he came to see through my eyes and accept our friendship, although he did not extend his goodwill to others of the dwarven race and I fear that he never will. That Gimli and I were bound in brotherhood due to all that we had faced in our quest to rid the world of that cursed ring made it easy for him to understand the closeness we now had. I think it was also helpful that although dwarves are long lived, they are not immortal so therefore he knew there would be a time when Gimli would no longer be by my side. Elves are patient and none are more so than my father.
My thoughts pass once again to my father. That glorious elf who could be loving and gentle as a father, yet stern and unforgiving as a King and I wonder how he fares. That he still lives is a certainty in my mind. Too stubborn and tenacious to fade, he would find his way in the world however it changed around him. I always knew in my heart that he would not sail yet that does not salve the hurt of being sundered from his love. Memories of the years spent under his care and affection are oft interspersed with those of his ruthless endeavour to keep our home and people safe and all of these different aspects bring tears to my ears. This is my father and I still would have had him no other way.
I feel a soft caress at my brow and a surge of compassion as a branch dips above my head to allow a leaf to gently stroke across my skin after the fashion of a father’s hand in love and reassurance. Although its touch is different it still soothes as the trees of the Greenwood used to do when I would find succour in their branches at times of trouble or distress and for a while my mind stills and I relax into a thoughtless fugue.
The sudden peal of a bell brings me back to myself with a start and it takes a moment for me to reconcile the sound with my position. As soon as realisation hits, my eyes turn towards the distant shore and my heart lurches within my chest. A ship. A ship is hoving in to dock as I watch. Do I dare to hope that finally my wait is over. That my love has had his fill of adventure at last and has come to join me here in peace. My eyes scan desperately across the few figures standing at its rails but do not spy the one I most wish to see. I feel a cold swell rising through me as I continue to search. He must be here, he must. He could not leave me here alone. Could he?
Did he not mean his last whispered words as we lay together on our final night together in Middle Earth? Has time eroded the memories of our reconciliation or did I never mean as much to him as he did to me? I try to calm my racing thoughts. No, surely, I would have felt it if that were so, though never formally bound I am certain our bond was true. I watch listlessly as the gangplank is lowered and disembarkation begins. Goods and people slowly make their way to the quayside to be greeted with hugs and cheer by the family and friends who have now gathered there. Then here is a flurry of activity on deck and the faint sound of hooves upon wood reaches my ears as two tall, dark figures begin to lead a pair of huge destriers from the ships hold and down the gangplank. My fëa lightens as I finally feel the pull of the other that has been missing for so long. The pair reach the dockside and as one figure turns to be embraced by the mother he has not seen for centuries past, the other blows her a kiss and swiftly pulls himself up onto his horses back. There is a short moment as the rider scans the surrounding area before they wheel to face the direction of the tree in which I am sitting, then they are off, galloping towards me as our songs reach out, merge and begin to soar together once more.