Post by Admin on Jan 2, 2021 2:45:23 GMT
Author: Starlight and Moonlight
Summary: A great joy is brought to the Elven-king of Greenwood.
Characters: Legolas, Thranduil, Haerelthel (OC)
Rating: G
Warning(s): none
Thin beams of sunlight slanted through the grand trees of Greenwood the Great. There was an ancient tranquility lingering in those trees, something that would not be easily broken.
A gentle breeze swept through the forest, murmuring softly of things long forgotten. A stream could be heard bubbling merrily in some hidden clearing. The sweet voice of a songbird carried through the land, and it was soon answered by another of its kind.
Two elves passed silently through the beautiful land that day, leaving the peace of the forest to be undisturbed. It was the land of their home, the land of their people. They were the rulers of this realm, but today was for themselves.
“You said before that you wished to tell me something today,” Thranduil said, slipping his hand into the maiden’s beside him. “What is it you spoke of?”
Haerelthel smiled softly, her radiance seeming brighter than the sun to Thranduil. “It is good news, Thranduil,” she said. “It is something that we have waited years for.”
Silent tears slid unnoticed down the Elven-king’s face as he cradled the sleeping form of his newborn son. The infant was wrapped in a soft blanket, his eyes closed in a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Thranduil held his child closer, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the elfling’s innocent face. Not in a long time had he felt such pure happiness.
Thranduil looked up at his wife, tears still glistening in his eyes. Haerelthel was crying, too, and her tears were also of joy, not sadness. They had both waited years for this, neither knowing what to expect.
The newborn elfling opened his eyes, and Thranduil found himself looking into them with wonder. The infant’s pupils were a deep blue, like waves lapping on a distant beach. He had inherited his mother’s gentle eyes.
A tiny hand crept out from beneath the blanket, and found his father’s finger. The child gazed beyond the open window, looking out into the forested trees of Greenwood. A single leaf, fresh and green, detached itself from a branch and drifted down to the forest floor. The child giggled.
“Legolas,” Thranduil whispered. “My Greenleaf.”
Summary: A great joy is brought to the Elven-king of Greenwood.
Characters: Legolas, Thranduil, Haerelthel (OC)
Rating: G
Warning(s): none
Thin beams of sunlight slanted through the grand trees of Greenwood the Great. There was an ancient tranquility lingering in those trees, something that would not be easily broken.
A gentle breeze swept through the forest, murmuring softly of things long forgotten. A stream could be heard bubbling merrily in some hidden clearing. The sweet voice of a songbird carried through the land, and it was soon answered by another of its kind.
Two elves passed silently through the beautiful land that day, leaving the peace of the forest to be undisturbed. It was the land of their home, the land of their people. They were the rulers of this realm, but today was for themselves.
“You said before that you wished to tell me something today,” Thranduil said, slipping his hand into the maiden’s beside him. “What is it you spoke of?”
Haerelthel smiled softly, her radiance seeming brighter than the sun to Thranduil. “It is good news, Thranduil,” she said. “It is something that we have waited years for.”
Silent tears slid unnoticed down the Elven-king’s face as he cradled the sleeping form of his newborn son. The infant was wrapped in a soft blanket, his eyes closed in a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Thranduil held his child closer, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the elfling’s innocent face. Not in a long time had he felt such pure happiness.
Thranduil looked up at his wife, tears still glistening in his eyes. Haerelthel was crying, too, and her tears were also of joy, not sadness. They had both waited years for this, neither knowing what to expect.
The newborn elfling opened his eyes, and Thranduil found himself looking into them with wonder. The infant’s pupils were a deep blue, like waves lapping on a distant beach. He had inherited his mother’s gentle eyes.
A tiny hand crept out from beneath the blanket, and found his father’s finger. The child gazed beyond the open window, looking out into the forested trees of Greenwood. A single leaf, fresh and green, detached itself from a branch and drifted down to the forest floor. The child giggled.
“Legolas,” Thranduil whispered. “My Greenleaf.”