32. Past And Present, IV: Falling In Love, I
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.
Betareader: Many thanks to Surreysmum, who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: Angst. And one single kiss between an seventeen-years-old Estel and an adult (Legolas). Everything else happens between adults, I promise! Please heed the warnings!
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.
Guide: In this chapter, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.
XXX. Past and Present IV: Falling in Love, Part I
// /Warm lips were closing over his own and a soft, warm tongue was teasing his mouth. His whole body tingled at the touch. Before he knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth and tasted sweetness. The teasing tongue slipped inside and started to explore. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, his whole body was glowing with warmth. The tingling reached his groin. He felt himself melting under the touch, felt the sweetness of Estel's breath mingling with his own --
Then his mind regained control, his eyes flew open and he forced himself to withdraw, staring startled at the young man who had just claimed his mouth.
He saw Estel's flushed face, met his gaze, gleaming in love and adoration. "I always knew you loved me!" the young man said.
He felt his own body react, even while his consciousness sent icy warnings through his mind. He drew back as if burned and tried to bring himself under control again. / //
Legolas shifted in his sleep, lingering on the memory. It was a pleasant one, although a part of his consciousness warned him that there were bitterness and pain yet to come, mingled with the sweetness. But in his heart he knew that he would always remember this first kiss, that he would hold it precious and recall it to the end of his life, even were he to live to the end of Arda. And it had started innocently enough, after all...
// / "Teach me how to do it!"
Legolas looked at the young man sitting before him on the thick branch they shared. Estel's face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with excitement from their previous game of hunting each other and the following, long and competitive climb, which Estel had – naturally – lost again. There was hardly a way the young human could gain any victory over his Elven friend if they competed about anything concerning trees or the woods, or quickness. Luckily enough, by now, Estel usually took such losses against his Elven companion with good grace.
Legolas raised a brow.
"Teach you how to do what?" he asked.
Estel patted the branch they were sitting on. "Teach me how to run in the trees!" he said, "The way you do it!"
Legolas looked at him bewildered, not sure he had understood him correctly. "You want me to teach you how to walk on branches?" he asked cautiously.
Estel shook his head.
"Not walk! Run!" he exclaimed. "The way you did just now! The way you irritated me by climbing one tree, then changing to another and another, so when I tracked you down I lost the trail of you again; and when I finally found you and climbed after you, you easily ran away so I could not catch you until you let yourself be cornered. You do that all the time – run along one branch, then jump to the other and the next. It looks fantastic!" He beamed at the Elf, eyes gleaming with admiration and a little longing. "I want to learn that, too!" he finally concluded.
Legolas watched him sceptically. The young man looked determined, really taken with the idea.
"Estel..." he began carefully, then, after a moment, he asked: "Why do you want to learn that?"
Estel looked at him incredulously.
"Why?" he asked surprised, "Because it is a great skill, of course! And it looks like fun!" He beamed again. "It would be very useful while hunting game – moving above your prey, catching it unawares! And it is a great skill for an ambush against Orcs! Why shouldn't I want to learn how to do it?!"
He watched his Elven friend another moment, then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You are stalling, aren't you? Why?"
Legolas opened his mouth to answer, but Estel shook his head and raised a hand.
"No, on second thought, don't tell me! I do not want to know! You probably think I'm human, and therefore clumsy, or lacking balance, or too heavy – whatever. Well, whatever it is, forget it! I want to learn it, so just stop stalling and let's try! I am sure that you can teach me anything!"
His eyes, still sparkling in excitement, showed a dangerous mix of anger, determination, and trust.
Legolas heart sank. It would be hard to talk him out of this!
He raised his brows and sighed. "I am not sure I can," he said honestly. "It is an Elvish thing to do, you see, just like talking to the trees. I tried to teach you how to do that, too, remember? It just didn't work."
He looked at his younger companion, hoping that Estel would rise to the bait and let himself be distracted into some good-natured teasing game and subsequent wrestling match about the superiority of humans versus Elves. He tensed, ready to jump up and run away should Estel lunge at him.
But this time, the young man didn't take the bait. Instead, Estel scowled.
"Aye, I know. I am just a human," he said accusingly, "so there is no point for me to even try, is there?"
He looked away. Legolas was surprised at the hurt and disappointment in his voice.
After a moment, Estel angrily continued: "But it's not true that this is just an Elvish thing! Elrohir and Elladan can't do it, nor most of the other Elves in Rivendell. I bet even Glorfindel can't do it, although he probably would not be above trying and he might be able to learn it, if he wanted, too!"
There was a distinctive undercurrent in his voice suggesting that Glorfindel, at least, could learn anything if he just set his mind to it – and an unspoken insisting: 'and so can I!'
Legolas bowed his head. He found it hard to deal with Estel's dismay. "I think it may be a speciality of Woodelves," he admitted. "I learned it when I was little, barely half your age in Elven years. And I've done it ever since, all my life. Everyone at home does!"
Instead of being disheartened, the young man before him looked triumphant.
"There, you see, you had to learn it, too! It is not just a thing that you were born to, like understanding trees or Elvish senses!" he said. "I bet you weren't even all that good at it at first! You see, it's nothing exclusively Elvish! You can teach me!"
Legolas felt his heart sink and knew he was fighting a losing battle. This was not a temporary whim of his human companion and friend. Estel was determined and had made up his mind, and there was no way to talk him out of this. Still, Legolas had to try.
"Estel," he began cautiously, "I think..."
He stopped at Estel's expression. The young man scowled at him.
"I know," Estel said bitterly. "You think I'm clumsy, dense, slow on my feet, and I lack balance. I am hopeless, ugly and without any grace. In short, I'm human!"
Again, Legolas was shocked at the anger and bitterness he heard in the young man's voice. This was more than just normal disappointment. Estel was really hurt. But whoever had said such things to him?
No matter. Estel was obviously pained.
Legolas could not bear it.
"That's not true," he exclaimed, touching the young man's arm. "You are not clumsy! You are strong, quick on your feet, and you have a lot of balance!"
"--for a human," Estel added bitterly, as his brothers had so often done when they teased him.
Legolas shrugged. "Maybe. You are human, after all, and so your weight and proportions are different than ours. Remember what Glorfindel said? Of course your balance is different than that of an Elf! But it is your balance you have to care about, not anybody else's. And you have a lot of balance, and a lot of grace, and your own kind of beauty. You are beautiful and graceful! Anyone who does not see this must be blind!"
He stopped suddenly and flushed. Startled, he realized that he had said too much, and bit his lips. His face felt warm, and he had the uncomfortable suspicion that his cheeks wore a distinct blush and his ears had to be bright red. He swallowed.
But Estel looked at him with bright eyes and an oddly hopeful expression.
"You think I'm beautiful?" he asked eagerly.
For a moment, Legolas hesitated to answer.
Just half an year ago, he would have had to lie to call Estel anything but clumsy, awkward and, yes, even less than a beauty. During the last few years, Estel's body had grown immensely and gained height and muscle. Spreading up like a young sapling, there had been a time when the young human had seemed to be all arms and legs, in addition to an oddly pimpled face, much to Estel's great shame and dismay. Even worse, the balance and coordination of the young human could not keep up with his growing height, and there had been a time when he resembled a walking disaster. Estel's mother Gilraen – whom Legolas liked and respected very much – had sworn that this was a perfectly normal development for a human of that age, and Glorfindel reassured the despairing young one in the same way, too, telling Estel that he had fought at the side of a lot of humans in the past and that this was the normal way for them to grow up to men. Still, this had done little to reassure the dismayed teenager, who had to bear his brothers' merciless teasing on top of his own fears and despair. It had been hard for Legolas to deal with Estel's disappointment and resentment at times, although he had done his best to be the dependable friend and the strong, reassuring tree in the flood Estel needed.
No longer. During the last few months, Estel had grown accustomed to his new height and mass. No longer did he resemble a thin sapling with too long limbs; now he was distinctively human in his broad shoulders, narrow hips, strong arms and curly brown hair.
And even more importantly, he'd won his grace and balance back much to his own joy and Legolas' secret satisfaction. Estel's skin was clear again, and even the thin foam of hair starting to spread on his chin added to his attraction. Estel had been dismayed at that, too, until his mother reassured him that a beard was a visible sign of maturity in men.
Yes, Estel had grown into a well-formed, strong, promising young man of innate beauty and grace. And he had developed from a moody teenager to a happy, gracious companion again.
And if Estel was happy, as a rule, Legolas was happy, too.
After a heartbeat, Legolas nodded. "I do," he said. "And I think you are comely, and you have a lot of grace, although both Glorfindel and your mother say that it will still take some time until you cease to grow and reach your final stature. They say it will probably happen when you are eighteen or nineteen."
He saw Estel's gleaming, hopeful look of pleasure at his words, and his own face suddenly felt very warm. He swallowed again and had to compose himself. He could not afford to let himself be distracted. And Estel was still far away from his majority, he was only...
"I will be eighteen in just a few weeks," Estel said with a smile. He still seemed curiously pleased at his Elven companion's words.
Then he got back on track. "So you see," he said with finality, as if everything had been cleared up now, "you can teach me!"
Legolas looked down, crestfallen.
"Estel," he began again, dismayed, and then he said unhappily: "I am afraid I cannot do that!"
He braced himself against the storm of disappointment. Carefully he looked up.
Estel scowled. "But you just said..."
Legolas looked back down at his hands.
"It is too dangerous," he explained quickly. "Should anything happen to you – should you fall and break your neck, or your back, or even just a limb – your brothers and your father would skin me alive. That's not the worst, though; if you were injured because of me, I could not live with myself, anyway. But they would also torture and kill the other hostages! At least any of my people who are here and on whom they can lay their hands. I cannot risk that!"
He bit his lips and braced himself again against the expected disdain of his friend at his perceived over-carefulness and 'cowardice'. But to his astonishment, the feared sneering and scolding did not come.
Instead, Estel kept silent for a moment, then he reached carefully out and touched Legolas arm. "Always you think first of your people," the young man said with a trace of wonder and admiration in his voice.
Legolas looked up, completely taken by surprise. Estel's voice – and his face – were devoid of disappointment. Instead, they held respect and understanding.
But then the young man smiled again and beamed at him.
"You need not fear, though!" he said. "We'll just be extra careful! And we won't tell anyone! I will do anything you say, follow all your instructions. With you teaching me and staying close, nothing will happen to me! I am sure of that. You'll see!"
Legolas stared back at him and knew his battle lost. He could not bring himself to disappoint that display of trust and acceptance. He could not deny this boy – no, he corrected himself, this young man – anything.
He took a deep breath.
"All right," he finally said, "but you must promise that you will follow my instructions in this. And we can't start right now. We will need rope, and privacy."
Estel looked a little disappointed, but he nodded, knowing he had won and unwilling to risk the victory. "Rope?" he asked, "why would we need rope?"
Legolas looked grim. "To bind ourselves together," he said. "If you fall, I can keep you safe. Or if I can't, at least we fall together. Maybe the trees will try to catch me. They do that sometimes."
He saw his younger companion's look of disbelief, but he ignored it. The trees of Rivendell were not like the trees of his home, but they knew him by now, and he was still a Woodelf. They had kept him safe in dangerous situations before. Maybe it would be enough. He had to risk it.
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They started early the following day. Legolas found a place deeper in the woods, close to the river and the old beech tree that had become his favorite place to seek rest and comfort whenever he needed to be alone in this valley of his enemies. He had brought twenty feet of rope, enough to provide security, but allow jumps from tree to tree if needed. He led his eager companion to a place with some big trees around his favorite venerable beech and they climbed up to a few big branches about fifty feet above the ground. There Legolas secured one end of the rope around Estel's waist, the other around his own. He chose a place where they could practice easily, but had a few branches below them to stop their fall at need, should such prove necessary. They started slowly, Legolas placing Estel's hands on his waist and walking him along the bigger branches; later, he carefully let him walk alone and even jump from one branch to another a few times.
At first, everything went well. Estel was eager to learn and followed Legolas' instructions obediently. He was curiously pliant and smiled when Legolas held his hands or let him hold his teacher's hips while he taught him to walk forward and backwards on the branch and feel the space behind him with his feet without losing his balance. But soon, the young man grew impatient with their slow pace and wanted to do more – not only walk slowly and jump from one thick branch to the next one only a few feet away, but run and jump to other trees as he had seen his Elven friend do it.
Legolas protested that they should give it another day or two, but Estel grew mutinous.
"You are too cautious," he scowled. "Look, I can walk along the branches by now! Now teach me how to do it fast! I'm no clumsy toddler who needs to hold hands for every step any more. I can move faster. And I want to jump between the trees like you!"
"Estel," Legolas began with a slight note of impatience and warning, but the young man was not in the mood to listen anymore. He suddenly jumped up and ran away, assessing the distance to the tree next to them, and jumped – to Legolas' horror and dismay – without further warning. To his great joy – and the great relief of his teacher – Estel reached the branch he'd aimed for and regained his balance. Then he stood there and grinned back at his scowling teacher. "You see?" he cried triumphantly, "I can do it!"
Legolas resigned himself to the situation. "All right," he gave in while he followed Estel to the other tree. "We can move along a few trees, but you still need to follow my directions! Please, Estel, we need to do this carefully!"
But the young man, overjoyed with his success, was in no mood to listen. As soon as Legolas had followed him, he ran along the branch, aiming for the next branch, then the next tree and the next. Legolas followed. He could have stopped Estel by stopping and clutching the branch where he was, simply letting his companion reach the end of the rope; but he feared that Estel, should Legolas stop him like this, would simply cut the rope and go on alone. And he couldn't risk that.
It took only a few minutes until things went wrong. Estel saw a tree close by with a promising branch and ran to jump the slightly greater distance of about five feet, deaf to Legolas alarmed cry: "Estel, no! Not that one!"
He even reached the other branch, but his feet found no hold. The tree had been struck by lightning once and it was dead. The branch was wet with mould and moss, and Estel lost his balance and fell. He tried to grab the branch, but his hands slipped off and he fell a few feet further. Legolas braced himself for the jerk when the rope would stop the fall. Then, Estel found hold on a lower branch of the dead tree, and after a few moments he managed to scramble up again. Legolas relaxed, looking down to his charge and then around, assessing the surrounding branches for a way to get Estel back to safety.
He froze. They had started at a place where they were not too far above the ground. But in Estel's eagerness to race across the branches, he had not paid attention to such things as the formation of the valley, and the dead tree he'd chosen to jump reached its branches wide across one of the many gaps of the valley. There was a sheer fall of over hundred feet below Estel, and no other branches below him. And even where Legolas now stood the distance to the ground was over eighty feet, maybe not enough to kill an Elf, but surely enough to kill a human. Not to mention that the ground at this place consisted mostly of hard rocks and little undergrowth.
No matter. If they just --
-- at this precise moment, the branch the young man clutched suddenly broke and Estel cried out. Unfortunately, this sudden new fall took Legolas completely by surprise. His quick reflexes were half a heartbeat too slow, and the sudden jerk when Estel reached the end of the rope and his weight tearing at Legolas' waist ripped the Elf off the branch where he was standing. He tried to grab for it but missed.
For a moment, they both were airborne. Under them were few other branches, and most were too far away. There were none below Estel, nothing to break the fall. For a moment, Legolas was sure that his failure to grab the branch had killed them both. He did not think of himself, nor of the consequences for his people. His only thought was of Estel.
Estel! Estel would die! Legolas knew only one thing: he could not let that happen!
Legolas managed to grab a branch about six feet below, but this branch was too weak to hold them both. Desperate, Legolas used his whole strength to propel himself away from the weak branch and towards another, lower one which was further away. He feared the distance was too great. They would not make it --
-- then, suddenly, his hands found secure hold and he clutched the thick branch with all his strength. The jerk when his companion's fall was stopped by the rope nearly made him lose his hold again, but he clutched on with all his strength, and he prevailed. Then, he found himself dangling off the branch, hurting badly and breathing with difficulty, holding on for all he was worth. Estel, twenty feet lower, was silent and did not seem to move. Legolas feared the worst. But he could not give in, now. He felt the reassuring voice of the tree he clutched, and gratefully accepted its strength and support.
Carefully and with great effort, he managed to haul his feet up and hook them around the branch. Then, after a moment, he finally managed to get up on it. He gave himself a few moments to regain his strength. Only then, he began to haul his unmoving companion up to himself again.
________________________ o ________________
Fortunately, Estel had not broken anything; the jerk when his fall was stopped had just numbed him and made him lose consciousness for a moment. When he came to, he allowed Legolas to haul him up. Then, when they both securely sat on the branch, he clutched his Elven companion as if he never wanted to let go again. White-faced, eyes displaying his shock, it took him a few moments until he could speak. At Legolas' concerned questions if he was hurt or injured he only shook his head. When he finally found his voice again, he said with awe and wonder: "You saved my life!"
Legolas nodded tiredly. "The tree did," he said. "I could not have reached the branch without its help. I swear it shoved the branch within my reach."
He looked down. "It knows me well. I could not bear it if you died or were injured."
Suddenly, he found warm lips closing over his own and a soft, warm tongue teasing his mouth. In sheer surprise, before he knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth as he was trained to do by his twin masters – and tasted sweetness. The teasing tongue slipped inside and started to explore his mouth, and for a moment, Legolas felt himself melt at the sweetness of Estel's breath, and his whole body tingled at the touch.
Then his mind regained control, his eyes flew open and he forced himself to withdraw.
He saw Estel's face, flushed, eyes gleaming in love and adoration.
"I knew that you would save us," the young man said. "I wasn't scared, not even when I fell, because I knew that you would find a way to save us. You always do!" He raised a hand and touched Legolas' face, tracing it in wonder.
"I always knew you loved me!"
Legolas felt his own body react to the touch even while his consciousness sent icy warnings through his mind. He drew back as if burned and tried to bring himself under control again.
Estel was seventeen! True, he was a human, and they matured faster than Elves, but he was still far away from his majority. Legolas had no idea when a human would be considered to be old enough to explore physical pleasure – it was hardly a thing he could discuss with Estel's mother Gilraen, who was, after all, the only other human available here in Rivendell. Yet an Elf at seventeen would still be just a boy. And while Estel was far from being still a boy, he was hardly a full grown man yet, either. He could hardly know what he was doing!
This was wrong! They could not do this!
Besides, Legolas had been taken by his masters only days ago. He could not be in need again already. So why then did his body react with arousal at the young man's touch, why did he feel desire?
Why did he feel a cloud of butterflies fluttering in his stomach and everything within him wished to just return the kiss and never let go again?
What was happening to him?!
Estel started to notice his confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked bewildered.
Legolas felt his heart sink at the young man's look. There was so much love, so much trust shining back at him!
Bracing himself against the disappointment he knew he would cause, he said regretfully:
"Estel, we cannot do this!"
For a moment, the young man looked at him without comprehension. "Why?" he asked innocently and bemused. He tried to touch Legolas again, but the Elf avoided his hand and shook his head.
Estel's face fell. "But- I thought-" the young man stammered, "I thought you loved me!"
Legolas had to swallow hard at his look. His heart hurt in his chest. The young man's disappointment together with his own confusion and conflicting emotions, tore at his soul and the butterflies swarming in his stomach spread.
"Of course I do!" he said, then forced himself to say: "But – not like that!"
Unfortunately, he was not too sure about this claim himself. Yet Estel was. His eyes still showed bewilderment, but now they held growing hurt.
"But-" he protested in a small voice.
Legolas struggled for a way to lessen the blow and ease the young man's pain.
"Estel," he began, then asked: "I thought you were in love with that cooking maid of Elrond's household! What was her name, Lothluin(1)? The one to whom you sent all those verses and letters you wrote these last few months and had me review beforehand?"
"She's stupid and vain and just full of herself, and she's not worth my attention!" he said. "I do not love her! In fact, I cannot understand anymore why I ever fell for her at all!"
His voice was bitter and betrayed his hurt. Legolas was shocked at his pain. He did not know precisely what the Noldor elleth had done or said to the lovesick young man, because for once Estel had not confided in him, but obviously, it had not been pretty.
Still, he had to admit to himself, he was not sorry it was over. He had never liked that stupid She-Elf and thought that Estel wasted his affection and deserved better.
"And what about that servant girl of your mother, Moriel, whom you adored so long?" he asked helplessly. Moriel had been Estel's first big crush – the center of the attention of a sixteen-years-old boy who brought her flowers and adored her from afar, and tormented Legolas as well as everybody else in reach with endless praise about her grace and beauty, which unfortunately nobody beside himself could see.
Not to mention that the maiden could hardly be called one of the brightest Elves ever to walk Ennor(2), either.
Estel rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me!" he groaned. But then he shook his head and looked at Legolas again. Very seriously, he said: "Anyway, that's over. I do not love them, Legolas! I love you!"
Legolas felt his face crumble.
He felt as if he would drown in his conflicting feelings: joy and elation at Estel's confession warring with shock and disbelief and with the pain at the necessary rejection he must give and at the hurt he was about to cause. He felt himself torn in different directions. With effort, he tried to compose himself. He needed to be strong.
They could not do this.
"Estel," he said unhappily and regretfully, "we can't!"
Estel stared back at him without comprehension.
"Why not?" he asked. "I thought..."
Legolas took a deep breath. He scrambled for a reason that would not hurt Estel's feelings.
"I belong to your brothers," he began, "I'm their slave, remember? I'm not supposed to share myself with anybody else. They could have me killed for this."
It was the wrong thing to say. It was perfectly true, of course, but they both knew that it was not the real reason. For one thing, Elrohir and Elladan would not react this way, at least not where their brother was concerned. And secondly, Legolas had taken greater risks before in all the hare-brained schemes Estel had talked him into. As a rule, he could not deny Estel anything, and the young man knew that very well.
Estel looked at him incredulously. He scowled.
"You mean to say," he said, "that you would deny me even a simple kiss just because of that?"
There was still mostly disbelief in his eyes, but it was changing fast into an expression of hurt and betrayal.
"Oh, please!" he said, "They probably expect that we have done that much. They hardly will believe all we did in all that time when we have been together these last months was holding hands!"
Legolas did not know what to say at his accusing tone. Estel's voice held venom. He knew he had hurt the young man very deeply, and was at a loss what he could say to lessen the blow.
Helplessly, he replied: "You are too young..."
The expression in the Young One's eyes changed. Anger flared up, and something dark Legolas could not identify.
"Oh, yes, I see!" Estel spat. "Now we come to the real reason, do we not? I am just too young! Not to be taken seriously! Just a young, lovesick bastard making a fool out of himself with his bad poetry and his confessions!" There were tears brimming in his eyes, but the young man did not let them flow. He was burning with anger. "Wasn't that what you thought when you listened to all my verses?"
Legolas took a sharp breath. "I never said-"
But Estel did not listen anymore. Hurt and betrayal dominated in his face. Angrily, he spat:
"I thought you loved me! But I am not fit for your attentions, am I? I am too young for you, and I'm just human!"
Shocked to his core, Legolas stammered: "Estel--"
The young man was too fast for him. Angrily, he jumped up.
"You're such a hypocrite!" he spat with venom. "If I were to ask my brothers for a share of you and they commanded you to lie with me, you would do it without complaint. Because that is your duty, is it not, obedient little pleasure-slave that you are! But if I come to you myself, I am not even worth a simple kiss!"
He trembled in betrayal and in rage.
"How could I ever think I loved you!?"
Legolas felt frozen.
"Estel," he whispered helplessly, fighting for his voice, not believing what he had just heard, "please..."
But Estel had had enough.
"Don't bother," he spat venomously, "I will not bore you with my confessions anymore! Instead I'll simply ask my brothers for a share of you and be content!"
And with that, he drew his knife and cut the rope between them, and then he ran along the branch to the trunk just as they had practiced before and climbed down. In moments, he disappeared between the trees and Legolas could not see him anymore.
Legolas remained where he was, frozen in horror and in pain. He felt as if his whole world had suddenly come down around him./ //
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-- TBC --
(1) Lothluin – Sindarin: Blue Flower (OC Name)
(2) Ennor – Sindarin: Arda, Middle Earth. Moriel- Sindarin: Dark Daughter (OC Name)
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.