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Fandom: LotR
Time Period: Council of Elrond
Author: Rivlee
Title: Enigma
Pairing: none right now, eventually Legolas/OFC and Elladan/OMC and OMC/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Category: romance, humor, drama….mockery?
Warnings: het, eventual slash overtones, many original characters
Summary: A not so stranger in a not so strange land.
“Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.”
Legolas was feeling many things at the moment. One was pure fury, the other was wonder, but fury was more prominent. Legolas did feel emotions intensely at times, fury like this was usually reserved for the battlefield. In all his years Legolas had not felt the need to yell at a female; and being the son of a King, he had many occasions of being frustrated with a she-elf or a merchant’s daughter. Rhiannon, whatever she was, and Valar forbid, whosever daughter she was, was in a word or two, absolutely infuriating. She had deliberately provoked him with that comment about being a prissy elf. How dare she? Did she not know of his realm, Mirkwood? The spiders? The Necromancer? The need to be a hunter and a defender of his home before anything else? And furthermore, Legolas did not have trouble with concentration; it was a must for archery, even when only in fun. The only elves whoever spoke mental conversations were the few of the Wise and the Sentries on Duty. It was not a common practice for useless conversation. That…that..thing had spoken to him as if he were but a child! True, he may have seemed like quite a youth to Galadriel, Elrond, Celeborn, Cirdan. Gandalf and many others of the Wise; and her certainly was not as traveled as the rest, but it was not as if the elves had a reason to go further into the East; but he still had lived in more than one millennia and Rhiannon had not yet lived to see her first….the utter gall!
And as much as he hated to, he did have to concede to her a point when she said age and experience do not necessarily go hand and hand. Arrogant little, whatever she was, mutt maybe. He considered the council he had received from his two friends. Lostladion felt the girl was harmless, only coming out from her home for a reason; perhaps being sent as a messenger. Legolas was leaning more towards Menepaurion’s side, the mistrust of something and someone so unknown.
Either unaware, or just plain uncaring, of the malevolent thoughts towards her, Rhiannon was in awe as she looked around Rivendell. She had only visited Imladris three other times in her life. Once when she was a mere eighteen years of age and had been informed she was, indeed, immortal; being young and foolish she had not yet learned to appreciate the beauty around her. The second time had been when she was over one-hundred years and during a much needed rain storm, not allowing for a glimpse of Imladris at its finest. The third, last, and most recent visit she did not like to think about. Now that she was older and had lived longer she could admire the peacefulness that was such a part of the beautiful elven city. Elrond had done a superb job of keeping his hidden sanctuary safe and beautiful.
***********
Imladris, a fortnight later
A fortnight had passed since the arrival of the Mirkwood party and their unexpected guest into Imladris. Lord Elrond and his councilors had been held up in meetings trying to decide the best course of action.
Rhiannon had done little but rest, after having spoken to Erestor about the reason for her sudden visit. She had not spoken much with her supposed saviors since their arrival. She had not spoken with many elves for they did not seem very keen to speak with her. She was an outsider and with the coming darkness any outsider, especially of a race that had not visited in a very long time, were viewed with suspicions. Not, to say, Rhiannon did view the unknown members of Lord Elrond’s household did not inspire her own suspicion.
The story of all the known realms in the world seemed to be the same; long eras of turmoil with very few glimpses of peace. The tumult of her home land had led her here for safety. Now the tumult was coming here and what was she to do? She wished to speak with Gandalf, but he always seemed so busy and was starting to appear as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. She had decided to speak with Legolas, but he had been avoiding her. Indecisive little elf, one moment he distrusts her, then she is considered safe, then distrusted again, and now avoiding her. The very female side of her brain wished to purposely do something to make him even more uncomfortable just to see how his reaction. The more rational side of her brain, the one that had been drilled into her from many, many lectures, warned her that in the coming times, no bridges should be burned. Listening to the more rational side, she decided to seek Legolas out. She traveled through the many mazes of gardens until she came upon Legolas standing in the middle of one of the fields, staring out into the valley.
Rhiannon did not normally take upon herself to interrupt people when they were in deep thought, but the look of utter confusion on the elf’s face compelled her forward. Lots had happened to the elven prince in the fortnight that had passed. He had been chosen to travel with the Fellowship in two months to destroy the One Ring of Power. She felt sorry for this being that had not traveled far beyond his own homeland’s borders (or so one of the scribes had told her in a moment of “I’m Noldor and more Knowledgeable than any other” gossip). Rhiannon slowly approached him, deliberately making a noise so he would not be surprised. She spoke to him in a voice slightly above a whisper,
“What troubles you so?”
A ghost of a smile came to Legolas’ lips, “I believe I once asked you a similar question and you avoided the answer. I do not know if I want to, or should, answer yours. Maybe I will answer it with another question. Are you coming on our little quest?”
Rhiannon slowly shook her head, “My road lies similar to that of Aragorn and Boromir, I go to Gondor. I may ride beside the Fellowship if we cross the same paths, and assist when absolutely needed; but this is not my task. I am not anyone of power compared to Mithrandir and I am certainly not a warrior, that is not my area. I can not willingly kill anything; I am terrified at the thought of battle. Unless times are so grim that my help is all that can get you from one place to the next, I will then join you on that particular road.”
Legolas looked down at her, “What do you mean by that statement? You do enjoy speaking in riddles don’t you?”
Legolas had expected Rhiannon to give a small laugh but instead he saw that she had turned her face away from him so her eyes could not be viewed. He lightly turned her chin so he could see all the unspoken statements that lay within. In her eyes shone sorrow and compassion. Legolas’ worries returned to him.
Rhiannon spoke softly, “The road you will travel will be extremely dark and weary. There will be times when even you, my friend, will lose hope. But always know that there are people in Rivendell, the Shire, Mirkwood, Gondor, Rohan, Lorien, and the rest of Middle-Earth who wish you back home safely. The task is never truly done; once you realize that, you may feel wonder for why you even bother to continue on a seemingly futile mission. You must remember that all of you have a part and a future in this world. The Ring-bearer has his own fate, but there will come a time when you, Aragorn, and Gimil will hold the fates of many in your hands. When you think there is no more hope, remember my words.”
Legolas was silent for awhile, then turned to Rhiannon, “I am touched by your concern and I am amazed that one so younger than me can be so wise.”
Rhiannon smiled, “You are wise, Legolas, in your own way. You have been far removed from the wiser folk for some time and do not realize just how wise you are. You’re much more than an archer.” A sly smile then came to her lips, “And a prissy elf.” Rhiannon turned to leave him with his thoughts, but as she walked she said to him, humor obvious in her voice, “And if you think I speak in riddles, listen to your own speech at times. Or talk to Gandalf.”
Legolas let out a loud, musical laugh and for quite some time it seemed as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Time Period: Council of Elrond
Author: Rivlee
Title: Enigma
Pairing: none right now, eventually Legolas/OFC and Elladan/OMC and OMC/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Category: romance, humor, drama….mockery?
Warnings: het, eventual slash overtones, many original characters
Summary: A not so stranger in a not so strange land.
“Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.”
Legolas was feeling many things at the moment. One was pure fury, the other was wonder, but fury was more prominent. Legolas did feel emotions intensely at times, fury like this was usually reserved for the battlefield. In all his years Legolas had not felt the need to yell at a female; and being the son of a King, he had many occasions of being frustrated with a she-elf or a merchant’s daughter. Rhiannon, whatever she was, and Valar forbid, whosever daughter she was, was in a word or two, absolutely infuriating. She had deliberately provoked him with that comment about being a prissy elf. How dare she? Did she not know of his realm, Mirkwood? The spiders? The Necromancer? The need to be a hunter and a defender of his home before anything else? And furthermore, Legolas did not have trouble with concentration; it was a must for archery, even when only in fun. The only elves whoever spoke mental conversations were the few of the Wise and the Sentries on Duty. It was not a common practice for useless conversation. That…that..thing had spoken to him as if he were but a child! True, he may have seemed like quite a youth to Galadriel, Elrond, Celeborn, Cirdan. Gandalf and many others of the Wise; and her certainly was not as traveled as the rest, but it was not as if the elves had a reason to go further into the East; but he still had lived in more than one millennia and Rhiannon had not yet lived to see her first….the utter gall!
And as much as he hated to, he did have to concede to her a point when she said age and experience do not necessarily go hand and hand. Arrogant little, whatever she was, mutt maybe. He considered the council he had received from his two friends. Lostladion felt the girl was harmless, only coming out from her home for a reason; perhaps being sent as a messenger. Legolas was leaning more towards Menepaurion’s side, the mistrust of something and someone so unknown.
Either unaware, or just plain uncaring, of the malevolent thoughts towards her, Rhiannon was in awe as she looked around Rivendell. She had only visited Imladris three other times in her life. Once when she was a mere eighteen years of age and had been informed she was, indeed, immortal; being young and foolish she had not yet learned to appreciate the beauty around her. The second time had been when she was over one-hundred years and during a much needed rain storm, not allowing for a glimpse of Imladris at its finest. The third, last, and most recent visit she did not like to think about. Now that she was older and had lived longer she could admire the peacefulness that was such a part of the beautiful elven city. Elrond had done a superb job of keeping his hidden sanctuary safe and beautiful.
***********
Imladris, a fortnight later
A fortnight had passed since the arrival of the Mirkwood party and their unexpected guest into Imladris. Lord Elrond and his councilors had been held up in meetings trying to decide the best course of action.
Rhiannon had done little but rest, after having spoken to Erestor about the reason for her sudden visit. She had not spoken much with her supposed saviors since their arrival. She had not spoken with many elves for they did not seem very keen to speak with her. She was an outsider and with the coming darkness any outsider, especially of a race that had not visited in a very long time, were viewed with suspicions. Not, to say, Rhiannon did view the unknown members of Lord Elrond’s household did not inspire her own suspicion.
The story of all the known realms in the world seemed to be the same; long eras of turmoil with very few glimpses of peace. The tumult of her home land had led her here for safety. Now the tumult was coming here and what was she to do? She wished to speak with Gandalf, but he always seemed so busy and was starting to appear as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. She had decided to speak with Legolas, but he had been avoiding her. Indecisive little elf, one moment he distrusts her, then she is considered safe, then distrusted again, and now avoiding her. The very female side of her brain wished to purposely do something to make him even more uncomfortable just to see how his reaction. The more rational side of her brain, the one that had been drilled into her from many, many lectures, warned her that in the coming times, no bridges should be burned. Listening to the more rational side, she decided to seek Legolas out. She traveled through the many mazes of gardens until she came upon Legolas standing in the middle of one of the fields, staring out into the valley.
Rhiannon did not normally take upon herself to interrupt people when they were in deep thought, but the look of utter confusion on the elf’s face compelled her forward. Lots had happened to the elven prince in the fortnight that had passed. He had been chosen to travel with the Fellowship in two months to destroy the One Ring of Power. She felt sorry for this being that had not traveled far beyond his own homeland’s borders (or so one of the scribes had told her in a moment of “I’m Noldor and more Knowledgeable than any other” gossip). Rhiannon slowly approached him, deliberately making a noise so he would not be surprised. She spoke to him in a voice slightly above a whisper,
“What troubles you so?”
A ghost of a smile came to Legolas’ lips, “I believe I once asked you a similar question and you avoided the answer. I do not know if I want to, or should, answer yours. Maybe I will answer it with another question. Are you coming on our little quest?”
Rhiannon slowly shook her head, “My road lies similar to that of Aragorn and Boromir, I go to Gondor. I may ride beside the Fellowship if we cross the same paths, and assist when absolutely needed; but this is not my task. I am not anyone of power compared to Mithrandir and I am certainly not a warrior, that is not my area. I can not willingly kill anything; I am terrified at the thought of battle. Unless times are so grim that my help is all that can get you from one place to the next, I will then join you on that particular road.”
Legolas looked down at her, “What do you mean by that statement? You do enjoy speaking in riddles don’t you?”
Legolas had expected Rhiannon to give a small laugh but instead he saw that she had turned her face away from him so her eyes could not be viewed. He lightly turned her chin so he could see all the unspoken statements that lay within. In her eyes shone sorrow and compassion. Legolas’ worries returned to him.
Rhiannon spoke softly, “The road you will travel will be extremely dark and weary. There will be times when even you, my friend, will lose hope. But always know that there are people in Rivendell, the Shire, Mirkwood, Gondor, Rohan, Lorien, and the rest of Middle-Earth who wish you back home safely. The task is never truly done; once you realize that, you may feel wonder for why you even bother to continue on a seemingly futile mission. You must remember that all of you have a part and a future in this world. The Ring-bearer has his own fate, but there will come a time when you, Aragorn, and Gimil will hold the fates of many in your hands. When you think there is no more hope, remember my words.”
Legolas was silent for awhile, then turned to Rhiannon, “I am touched by your concern and I am amazed that one so younger than me can be so wise.”
Rhiannon smiled, “You are wise, Legolas, in your own way. You have been far removed from the wiser folk for some time and do not realize just how wise you are. You’re much more than an archer.” A sly smile then came to her lips, “And a prissy elf.” Rhiannon turned to leave him with his thoughts, but as she walked she said to him, humor obvious in her voice, “And if you think I speak in riddles, listen to your own speech at times. Or talk to Gandalf.”
Legolas let out a loud, musical laugh and for quite some time it seemed as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
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