Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2021 0:53:24 GMT
Author: Yazz
Summary: Legolas returns from the War of the Ring to get married. Rated M for adult themes.
I know I am not your first. You are, after all, Silvan, and you do not hold to the ways of the Eldar. Instead, you are wild, untrammelled, free, you lie where you will and with whom you will, moving on the next morning, the next week...
And that is the way of things, my Silvan beauty, my glorious flame-haired delight. For wild though you are, Silvan though you be, you are still an Elf.
When you fall, you fall utterly, forever and endlessly, and only once do you love, do you give your fëa, your heart.
So, I am your first love, and your last love.
I have been to Rivendell, have seen how our stately Noldor conduct themselves, how they enquire of the wildness of Silvans with elegant raised brows, torn between envy and distaste. Even the wise Elrond Half-Elven needed reminding my royal father married a Silvan, and my mother is held in great esteem amongst us.
Yes, I have travelled at last, beyond the bounds of our forest, out of reach of its beautiful, dark dread. Some would say I have helped to save the world. Certain is it, I have changed it, for I befriended a Dwarf, and now all look to us to create new friendships between our peoples.
The way was long, it took me away from all I loved and held dear, from you, beloved, from my father, our elves, and I heard of the Battle Under the Trees with dread, for ever were you a keen shot and a brave heart, and the way home was long.
I hope, my darling, that you like the thought of travel. The world will be safer now, at least. Would you, one day, even sail with me? Ai, the song of Ulmo races in my blood like the tide...
Never have you asked of me, what of my past? What secret loves has Legolas owned and left?
None. Although perhaps my royal father had thought there might be an alliance between Rivendell and the Forest at one time, this was not what she or I wanted, nor her father. Nor, it must be said, would her preferred one have been pleased at the news.
It was on my return with this news that I met you, your troop in the forest, come to lead me home in honour. Your eyes fell into mine, locked, and when you drew your gaze away, you took my fëa with it.
Ada comes.
‘Legolas,’ he says. ‘You are certain?’
‘Yes, Adar, of course,’ I say, and smile beyond him to where my mother sits, the head of a silver fawn cradled in her lap. ‘After all, you were, were not you?’
He raises a hand in one of his beautiful, economical gestures while my mother laughs.
‘Indeed, ion-nin, and your Daerada asked your Adar the same thing. It is expected, you know. But if you love your Silvan, then that is all that matters.’
Yes. You, beloved, with your fiery hair and glorious hazel eyes, you are all that matters.
We stand in front of our officiating scribe under the trees, to make our vows and exchange our rings. And it is done, you stumble over my formal name, and I laugh, and say yours properly. We place rings on each other’s fingers, and lift our hands to show, and it is done.
The first marriage in the new Greenwood.
We feast, and drink of Ada’s good Dorwinion until we are both silly and giggly, and they lead us to our marriage bower, a flet apart in the forest, with all we could need for several days. By tradition, the newlyweds do not come down until the Valar have gifted an elfling to them.
But the old traditions must make way for new; I think there will be a long wait.
There are some things, though, we will wait no longer for.
Wild Silvan that you are, we fell in love before we touched and so, we have done no more than kiss and brush hands. Now, in the privacy of our bower, in the comfort of our marriage bed, clothing falls away, braids are released. Your rich hair tumbles over my hands in waves, silencing the yearning in my heart for the sea as your fingers unbraid me, untie me, your body lies against mine and you undo me, unstringing me utterly until I forget I am Sinda, royal, prince, and I become as wild as you, arcing and crying out and you join your song of bodily bliss to my own; we are one, we are together, we blend, Sinda and Silvan, blond and flame, and the silence settles around us like a blanket.
We are married, we are bound. We are the first Sinda-Silvan marriage in Eryn Lasgalen.
And even though we do not ask for an elfling, we agree perhaps we should lie together in love again, just because we can.
The sun comes up and we sing the song of the Greeting of the Dawn together for the first time.
Summary: Legolas returns from the War of the Ring to get married. Rated M for adult themes.
I know I am not your first. You are, after all, Silvan, and you do not hold to the ways of the Eldar. Instead, you are wild, untrammelled, free, you lie where you will and with whom you will, moving on the next morning, the next week...
And that is the way of things, my Silvan beauty, my glorious flame-haired delight. For wild though you are, Silvan though you be, you are still an Elf.
When you fall, you fall utterly, forever and endlessly, and only once do you love, do you give your fëa, your heart.
So, I am your first love, and your last love.
I have been to Rivendell, have seen how our stately Noldor conduct themselves, how they enquire of the wildness of Silvans with elegant raised brows, torn between envy and distaste. Even the wise Elrond Half-Elven needed reminding my royal father married a Silvan, and my mother is held in great esteem amongst us.
Yes, I have travelled at last, beyond the bounds of our forest, out of reach of its beautiful, dark dread. Some would say I have helped to save the world. Certain is it, I have changed it, for I befriended a Dwarf, and now all look to us to create new friendships between our peoples.
The way was long, it took me away from all I loved and held dear, from you, beloved, from my father, our elves, and I heard of the Battle Under the Trees with dread, for ever were you a keen shot and a brave heart, and the way home was long.
I hope, my darling, that you like the thought of travel. The world will be safer now, at least. Would you, one day, even sail with me? Ai, the song of Ulmo races in my blood like the tide...
Never have you asked of me, what of my past? What secret loves has Legolas owned and left?
None. Although perhaps my royal father had thought there might be an alliance between Rivendell and the Forest at one time, this was not what she or I wanted, nor her father. Nor, it must be said, would her preferred one have been pleased at the news.
It was on my return with this news that I met you, your troop in the forest, come to lead me home in honour. Your eyes fell into mine, locked, and when you drew your gaze away, you took my fëa with it.
Ada comes.
‘Legolas,’ he says. ‘You are certain?’
‘Yes, Adar, of course,’ I say, and smile beyond him to where my mother sits, the head of a silver fawn cradled in her lap. ‘After all, you were, were not you?’
He raises a hand in one of his beautiful, economical gestures while my mother laughs.
‘Indeed, ion-nin, and your Daerada asked your Adar the same thing. It is expected, you know. But if you love your Silvan, then that is all that matters.’
Yes. You, beloved, with your fiery hair and glorious hazel eyes, you are all that matters.
We stand in front of our officiating scribe under the trees, to make our vows and exchange our rings. And it is done, you stumble over my formal name, and I laugh, and say yours properly. We place rings on each other’s fingers, and lift our hands to show, and it is done.
The first marriage in the new Greenwood.
We feast, and drink of Ada’s good Dorwinion until we are both silly and giggly, and they lead us to our marriage bower, a flet apart in the forest, with all we could need for several days. By tradition, the newlyweds do not come down until the Valar have gifted an elfling to them.
But the old traditions must make way for new; I think there will be a long wait.
There are some things, though, we will wait no longer for.
Wild Silvan that you are, we fell in love before we touched and so, we have done no more than kiss and brush hands. Now, in the privacy of our bower, in the comfort of our marriage bed, clothing falls away, braids are released. Your rich hair tumbles over my hands in waves, silencing the yearning in my heart for the sea as your fingers unbraid me, untie me, your body lies against mine and you undo me, unstringing me utterly until I forget I am Sinda, royal, prince, and I become as wild as you, arcing and crying out and you join your song of bodily bliss to my own; we are one, we are together, we blend, Sinda and Silvan, blond and flame, and the silence settles around us like a blanket.
We are married, we are bound. We are the first Sinda-Silvan marriage in Eryn Lasgalen.
And even though we do not ask for an elfling, we agree perhaps we should lie together in love again, just because we can.
The sun comes up and we sing the song of the Greeting of the Dawn together for the first time.