The Dragon-Son and the Son of the Wood, part one, by Kaylee Arafinwiel (and AfricanDaisy)
Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel
Title: The Dragon-Son and the Son of the Wood
Rating: probably PG/PG-13
Theme: Spring Fever
Elements: Ginseng
Author's Notes: Thranduil was 1000 years old at the time of the Last Alliance in Emma's and my-verse (we've had to revise his birthdate a time or two, I think.) Since that was SA 3441, he'd be 50 in SA 2491, and as this is the following Spring, it's SA 2492.
Summary: A few months after his fiftieth Begetting Day, Prince Thranduil pays a visit to the Empire of Rhûn. A story which was going to be told in triple drabbles...until I got the idea to co-author it. Now it's going to end up being MUCH longer...lol. Work in progress.
Word Count: About 4600 at the moment. And this is only the first part...Boy am I in trouble, lol. The rest is (as yet) unwritten since this is a tale that grew in the telling, including the part where Thranduil will fall ill. But it's planned, and it will be coming. I promise!
Qīng Lóng (Azure Dragon - Wood/East/Spring) The letter had come to Greenwood, all the way from Rhûn. Oropher and Felith had expected it - a letter inviting them to send their Embassy East, to greet the newly crowned Emperor. They had not, however, expected the Emperor’s entreaty to be addressed to Thranduil. This letter was written in the alphabet common to Men and Elves of the West, though strange characters - the Rhûnic speech, they knew - alternated lines with it.
From Tiānzǐ Tyan-yu, Son of Heaven, unto the Lords of the Wood, salutations. We wish to express Our congratulations on your son’s coming of age, for Our Great Father’s ambassador spoke highly of the Wood-folk. Now that We are the Great Son of Heaven, may it be that Our realms will remain in kinship.
We do not take you from your fair realm, but live in hope that the Son of the Wood will deign to grace Us with his presence in Our realm as fast as the Lord Dragon may speed him. We will treat him with the kindness and respect due Our own kin.
Signed,
The Emperor’s own personal seal followed a string of characters the Elves could not read.
Thranduil stared in shock at Oropher and Felith. “Rhûn?” he managed to stammer out. “Alone?”
“Of course, not alone, silly elfling,” Oropher said fondly. “You will be accompanied by members of Greenwood’s embassy to Rhûn - your guards, naturally, but we will permit you to select others you feel will serve you best.”
"But I don't understand." Thranduil returned his gaze to the letter. "Why do they want me?"
Oropher didn't answer right away, thinking. Finally, he spoke.
"Do you remember," he said, "when the ambassadors from Rhûn first came for our coronation? They brought a great stone dragon with them."
There was no way that Thranduil could forget that great dragon. He had spent many an hour quietly confiding in it. A couple of times, it had even talked back. Well, all right, that had been the chief of the gardening staff lending his voice to the dragon, but still. It had impressed an elfling prince. "Of course, I remember," said prince replied out loud.
"I believe you made a favourable impression on the Rhûnim that day," Oropher said. "They certainly believe you made a favourable impression on their dragon."
"I did?" Thranduil blinked, casting his mind back. "They liked me?"
"They were very impressed with you," Oropher nodded. "Their Chief Ambassador told me that the Lord Dragon had chosen you. I never did quite understand what that meant," he added ruefully.
The Queen, though she hadn't said much, had not taken her eyes off her son. "How do you feel, Thranduil?"
"Well...it's quite a long way to travel, even not-alone," Thranduil ventured.
"It is a long way," Oropher agreed quietly. He didn't know how he felt about that.
"But I can do it," Thranduil added hastily. If the people of Rhûn wanted him, he would go. He hated to let his parents down, and he didn't intend to do so now.
"We know you can do it, Thranduil." Oropher gave Thranduil a hug. "It is not as though this is your first trip outside Greenwood without us." Thranduil had at least gone to Lothlórien, suitably guarded, both with his parents and without them, and Baralin had taken their elfling on some of his nearer expeditions. But Rhûn was the furthest from home their elfling would have gone yet.
"No. But it will be my furthest," Thranduil said.
Oropher nodded agreement. "Yes, it will at that."
"Have you been?" Thranduil asked.
"I haven't," Oropher said. "Uncle Baralin travelled East when we lived in Doriath, however. He travelled to many faraway places."
"I will accept the invitation to go," Thranduil said dutifully. "But perhaps before I leave, I could talk to Uncle Baralin about it, so I know what to expect."
"That is well, sweetling. You might even take him with you, if you like," Oropher suggested. "You do not have to, though."
"I suppose if I have to take a real grown-up with me, it might as well be someone fun," Thranduil reflected.
"Mhmm," Oropher chuckled at that. "It might as well."
"Not that you're not fun," Thranduil added. "But you weren't invited."
"No, your nana and I weren't invited," Oropher agreed.
"I'm sure it's nothing personal." Thranduil smiled, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "They just liked me better."
"Elfling," Oropher retorted, lightly smacking Thranduil's bottom, though his lips twitched with barely hidden amusement.
"Oh, you love me really," Thranduil said.
Oropher tugged Thranduil into his embrace, giving him a cuddle. "That has never been in question, laes-nin. Of course, we do."
"So do the people of Rhûn," Thranduil added under his breath.
"Yes, they do," Oropher agreed. He hoped that meant Thranduil would be safe in Rhûn.
"Should I go and talk to Uncle Baralin now?" the elfling asked. "Oh, and should I speak to the ambassadors from Rhûn, to accept their invitation?"
"Speak to Uncle Baralin first," Oropher said after a moment. "He will help you with the ambassadors, I am sure, laes-nin."
Thranduil nodded dutifully. Affectionate as ever, he gave both his parents a hug and a kiss, making them smile, before leaving to find his uncle. Well, great-uncle to be pre...no, great-great-uncle. Even one great was too much of a mouthful, so Thranduil just stuck with Uncle Baralin.
Baralin, as it happened, was in his rooms in the palace, and he had Luthavar with him. The two were playing a spirited game of Warriors and Baralin was losing quite thoroughly (for Lutha had captured his queen, two advisors, and four soldiers) when Thranduil found them.
Thranduil knocked on the ajar door to announce himself, but he hesitated somewhat as he stepped through. "Sorry," he said. "I'm disturbing you both."
"No, it's all right," Baralin said. He glanced at the board. "Lutha just won, anyway. Come in, nephew."
Thranduil walked further into the room, and he perched on the arm of Luthavar's chair. "Lutha always wins."
"Oh, that's an exaggeration," Luthavar replied. "I just win occasionally. Sometimes. Well, quite often. A lot."
"A lot," Baralin chuckled, ruffling his son's hair, then reaching around Lutha to give his nephew the same treatment. "Now, what can I do for you? Or is it Lutha you came to see?"
"I came to see you, actually." Thranduil paused. "Sorry, Lutha. No offence."
"Plenty taken," Lutha replied idly.
Thranduil knew his cousin well enough by now to know when he was being funny. He looked up at Baralin. "I want to talk about Rhûn."
"Rhûn?" Baralin asked, looking the elfling in the eyes intently. "Is this something to do with the ambassadors' visit?"
"I've been invited to go to Rhûn," Thranduil replied. He still had the letter, so he took it out of his pocket and handed it to his uncle.
Baralin took it, and his eyebrows rose sharply as he read in silence. "The Emperor himself invited you to court."
"Just me," Thranduil said. "Not Ada and Nana."
"Yes, I noticed that too," Baralin agreed. "But for the Emperor himself to issue an invitation is...unusual. Normally it will be a trusted advisor writing in the Emperor's name, and sealed with his ring. The Emperor is very busy, after all. But see, right here." Baralin pointed to the string of Rhûnic characters on the red paper. "The Rhûnim are very particular about colours. See how it is signed with golden ink, not black? That is the emperor's personal colour."
Thranduil tilted his head as he considered that. "I think if Ada was extending an invitation to another ruler, or his or her heirs, he would write it himself. He wouldn't delegate that. It might cause offence."
"That is true," Baralin acknowledged. "I meant, Tyan-yu is quite young, only just barely of age himself, or so I see it - the Rhûnim think otherwise, I suppose. He is thirty years younger than you, though I doubt the difference in your ages will be apparent. He was not even begotten yet when his father's men came to visit at the coronation."
"I don't think I can refuse the invitation, can I?" Thranduil asked.
"Why, were you planning to refuse?" Baralin asked teasingly.
"Well...no, not really. It's just..." Thranduil glanced at Lutha, shifted uncomfortably, then looked back at his uncle. "I've never..."
"What my little cousin is trying to say, and what he thinks I'll judge him for, which I won't," Luthavar drawled, "is that he's never been so far from home without his parents before, and although he won't decline the invitation, because he would never want to risk offending an ally, he's worried that he'll feel terribly homesick. Is that anywhere in the vicinity of accurate, Thranduil?"
The Crown Prince's cheeks had coloured to a shade similar to rosy apples. "Yes. Thank you, Lutha."
"And I won't judge you either, Thranduil," Baralin said, giving Thranduil a fond squeeze. "You surely won't be going alone, though. Oropher and Felith would never send you back with the Rhûnim unguarded."
"I know that," Thranduil assured his uncle. "But I won't be going with them, either. That's the only thing that makes me hesitate. I do want to do well, though. I want to be a good heir and to help Ada. And, well, I like adventures."
"You're a very good heir, nephew." Baralin patted Thranduil's shoulder reassuringly, "and you will always make us proud. I know you like adventures. You and Lutha have that in common with me."
"Well, perhaps you might come with me then," Thranduil suggested. "You have been there, you know the people and customs better than I do. You could advise me."
Baralin smiled slightly at that. "Yes, I... we? could do that," he said. He glanced at Lutha, trying to figure out what his elfling thought of that.
"If I've got nothing better to do," Luthavar replied, though the smile he gave his cousin said that yes, of course he would go.
Thranduil exhaled, relieved. "Thank you."
"Who else did you want to invite, Thranduil?" Baralin inquired.
"Fileg and Veassen," Thranduil said promptly. "I suppose Linwe ought to come too." It didn't matter that his eldest sworn brother wasn't there to hear it; he still wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.
Baralin snorted softly. "You suppose," he agreed. "Yes. Anyone else?" He could well imagine how Fileg would react were he invited and Aiwen not, though Thoroniel likely wouldn't care to go. Aiwen would want to, he thought.
"Aiwen?" Thranduil suggested after a moment. "She likes adventures."
"Maybe five elflings is enough," Luthavar commented. "I'm not babysitting."
Baralin laughed. "Five elflings is perfect," he agreed. "And you will want one of your Naneth's ladies as a chaperone. Not Emlineth, Felith needs her and the twins would resent it," he added dryly. "Ravennie has travelled with you before."
"Lady Ravennie ought to do well," Luthavar agreed cautiously, while Thranduil muttered under his breath about he and his friends being called elflings.
"I am sorry, Thranduil. Of course, you are not elflings," Baralin said gently, "you are of age now, after all. But I am afraid even your Daernana Neldiel was always an elfling in my eyes, so I hope you will excuse me for calling you one."
"If I still get called 'elfling' then you're definitely still getting called 'elfling'," Lutha said. He paused. "Prince Elfling."
"No," Thranduil scowled. He looked at Baralin. "How many guards will I have to take? I suppose my father will have the final say about that."
Baralin shook his head. "This is your embassy, nephew, not Oropher's. He will advise you, but he will not dictate to you. The five of you, plus Luthavar, Ravennie and I is eight. I would suggest having one guard for each of us. Eight is the luckiest number in Rhûn, and they greatly prefer having numbers doubled. Sixteen would be very auspicious for the embassy. And I strongly caution you, should we split up in Rhûn, to never go wandering in groups of four, either with our people alone or in combination with theirs. Four is very unlucky, the Rhûnim will see it as an ill omen."
"I'll have to write this down so I remember it all," Thranduil muttered. The last thing he wanted was to offend his hosts. "All right, so sixteen. I'll think about it, and make a list. But Captain Boronthor will be coming, of course."
"Naturally," Baralin nodded, smiling slightly. "You might ask Rochirion and Rochendil for help with that - you will want some elves along who can help with the horses, as well."
"All right. I'll do that," Thranduil replied.
"Good," Baralin said. "And you will also want to see about getting some new clothes, all of you elflings - Lutha, you too," he added.
"As if he needs an excuse," Thranduil muttered.
Baralin chuckled. "Hmm. Do you have any other questions for me just now, nephew, or do you want to go let your gwedyr and Aiwen know what is going on?"
"I'll go and tell them," Thranduil replied. "There's no rush, is there? The embassy from Rhûn only just arrived. They won't want to be rushing back right away."
"No rush at all," Baralin agreed.
"All right. Well, I'll do that now." Thranduil stood up, and smiled at his uncle. "Thank you for your help. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, Thranduil." Baralin smiled back. "I'll get Lutha over to the clothiers to see about arranging proper clothing. Lutha and I can give them an idea of what's proper to wear in Rhûn."
Thranduil had been about to leave, but he stopped and turned back. "We can't wear our own clothes?"
Baralin raised his eyebrows. "These will be your own clothes, nephew," he replied.
"Be more specific," Luthavar ordered his cousin.
Thranduil rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "I meant, we can't wear the clothes that we already possess?"
"We'll bring some of them, surely," Baralin conceded. "But the climate of Rhûn is different from Greenwood's, and the fashions are different, too. We will already stand out enough by being Elves; we don't need to stand out more by wearing inappropriate clothing."
"Is it very hot there?" Thranduil asked.
"In some areas, though not as much as Harad. Let me show you - I think I have some from my last trip there." Baralin opened the door that led into his dressing room (with all the travelling he and Luthavar did, he'd collected a myriad of clothes from different lands) and came back out a few minutes later with an armful of typical Rhûnic clothing. It consisted of a linen undertunic and trousers, with silk garments to wear over them, and silk shoes with leather soles. "This is the sort of thing you can expect," he said, "mostly, the royal and noble Rhûnim wear silk, as it is expensive, but it is preferred. As a prince, you will be entitled to it, and your cousins and gwedyr likewise." A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he glanced at Lutha. He wondered what his very fashionable elfling would make of them.
"It's beautiful clothing," Thranduil said slowly, lightly touching it.
"All Rhûnim wear similar cuts of clothing, though the noble and royal Rhûnim's clothing is made of finer materials, and more elaborately decorated than the poorer ones," Baralin explained. "This is a man's outfit. Women wear similar outer garments, though their underclothing is of course different." In short, he was telling Thranduil, all Rhûnim wore robes and there was nothing he could do about it.
"You like wearing robes, don't you, Thranduil," Lutha said idly.
"Oh, it's my greatest joy," the Prince agreed, leaning over to flick his cousin's ear. He looked at Baralin. "The clothes are beautiful. They may not be what I would usually wear, but I won't offend the Rhûnim by not following their customs."
"That's our good elfling." Baralin patted Thranduil's shoulder. "I know you think robes are silly, nephew. But at least everyone will look silly together then, hmm?"
"I don't think they're silly, I just think they're impractical," Thranduil replied sensibly.
"Well, the Rhûnim think otherwise," Baralin said wryly, "and they are quite practical there, at least, I promise you."
"I've said that I'll wear the appropriate clothing, and I will," Thranduil promised.
Baralin nodded. "Go tell the other elflings then, and you'd better mention to your nana that you're borrowing Ravennie," he added. He remembered Ravennie recalling him from Harad to Khand when Lutha had been seduced by the Khandian Empress. That had been fun, he thought sarcastically. But she watched his elfling closely; it went without saying that she would watch the other elflings just as closely, and this time he would be on hand.
Thranduil nodded dutifully and left his uncle and cousin, but he stuck his head back around the door a moment after he'd stepped through it. "We're not elflings." He disappeared again.
Baralin snorted. "If you're an elfling, yonya, he's definitely an elfling," he remarked to Lutha after Thranduil had disappeared again.
Thranduil went to his room and wrote two letters. The first, to Veassen. Come to the Little House as soon as you can. I've got news! The second, to Linwe. Your Crown Prince commands you to attend on him at your earliest convenience, or sooner, at the Little House. (Please.) He went out onto his balcony, and whistled, and his hawk flew out of a nearby tree and landed next to him.
"Take these to Linwe and Veassen, please," Thranduil said. "I'll be gone by the time you get back, but I'll bring you a mouse later. I promise."
Aranel bobbed her head to Thranduil obediently and - with the letters secured in her message tube - flew off to find Linwe and Veassen. Luckily for her, they weren't hard to find; they'd been racing their horses on the Racing Field, and now were resting under a nearby tree, refreshing themselves from their waterskins. They weren't expecting Aranel to fly down and perch on the tree branch beside them, with a loud cry to get their attention.
Veassen looked up, shading his eyes. "It's Aranel."
Linwe was nearer, so he put his leather glove back on his left hand, and coaxed her onto it, stroking her head with his uncovered fingers. "What's this you've got for us, Aranel?" He opened the message tube and withdrew the two letters. "Thranduil sent two separate letters. I guess he couldn't expect we'd both be together, even if it's likely," he observed, lightly tossing Veassen's to him. He returned the message tube's cap to its proper place. "Does Thranduil want an ans-" he began, but Aranel was already flying away. "Guess not." He shrugged and opened his letter.
Veassen unrolled his letter and glanced briefly at the short note contained within. "He's got news."
Linwe looked down at his own. "My Crown Prince commands me to attend on him at my earliest convenience," Linwe intoned sardonically, "or sooner, at the Little House, 'please'."
"Of course he does," Veassen laughed, his brown eyes sparkling. They all knew how much Thranduil liked to tease the eldest of their group. "We'd best go, then."
Linwe nodded. He collected their horses, put the waterskins away and mounted up. "Whatever it is, do you suppose Fileg and Aiwen are involved?" he asked.
"I expect Fileg, at least, will be with him," Veassen replied, as they headed back to the settlement. "I wonder if he knows about this news, whatever it is, already."
They bypassed their own houses and went straight to the cottage that Thranduil had lived in with his parents for only a couple of short years before everything had changed. The King and Queen didn't spend much time at the cottage - or the Little House, as everyone affectionately called it - any more, but Thranduil often went there to stay with his friends when he needed to get away from the palace.
As Linwe and Veassen tethered their horses and started walking up the path, they heard hoofbeats behind them. They turned to see their Crown Prince and sworn brother approaching the Little House, in company with Fileg. "You're both on time," Thranduil observed cheerfully, dismounting.
"As if we would be late, your Highness," Linwe retorted, though he was smiling.
"I could have been late," Veassen informed Fileg, as Thranduil unlocked the Little House. "But Linwe was royally commanded to be here at his earliest convenience or sooner."
Fileg laughed. "Oh, Linwe was royally commanded, but you weren't." He smirked at that. "I wasn't royally commanded," he added, "Thranduil just found me and said "I've got something to tell you, but you have to come with me first." Does that count?"
"Well, it was clearly a command that left you with little choice, but I'm not sure if it was a royal command," Veassen reflected. "Sounds like it fell a little short of being that."
Although the Little House wasn't permanently lived in, a couple of members of housekeeping staff came in every week to keep it freshly aired and clean, so that it would always be ready if the King, Queen, or Crown Prince, decided on a whim to make use of it. They also brought fresh food each week, and anything perishable that hadn't been used by the time they visited next would be used elsewhere so nothing was wasted.
Thranduil led the way to the kitchen and took out a box of honey cakes, before joining his gwedyr around the table. "Can you guess what my news is?"
Fileg gave his cousin a considering look. "You've found an elleth to marry," he suggested.
"I have not," Thranduil replied.
"Today marks an entire month without you getting into trouble?" Veassen asked.
Thranduil shook his head. "It does not."
"You've decided to only speak in three-word sentences?" Linwe suggested.
Thranduil took out a honey cake and tossed it across the table to Linwe. "As if I could manage that."
Linwe caught it mid-flight, smirking at his gwador. "You did all right for a little bit. All right, your Royal Highness, suppose you tell us what this is all about."
"I shall," Thranduil agreed. "I'm going to Rhûn."
Linwe stared, then laughed incredulously. "You're joking."
"Why would I be joking?" Thranduil asked.
"That's...it's Rhûn, gwador," Linwe replied. "It'll take weeks to get there, months even, not to mention how long you'd have to stay there to make going worthwhile, and how long it would take to come back. You'd be gone at least half a year, if not a whole one."
Thranduil's smile faded. "A year?"
Linwe nodded. "At least half of one, anyway. You'd be in Rhûn for months just to see the whole thing."
"Not that it's not worthwhile, Thranduil," Fileg added quickly. "Just...Rhûn is big, you know. Or you would know, if you paid attention in lessons. It's one of the biggest lands in all Middle-earth."
"Yes, I do know that it's big, thank you," Thranduil retorted. "I'm not going there to see the sights. The Emperor wants to meet me. It would be a diplomatic visit to one of our allies, not a sightseeing tour."
“Maybe," Fileg conceded, "but it might as well be. You'd be travelling through Rhûn a fair way just to reach the capital, it's not on the western border. They have it centrally located."
"Is it 'you' or is it 'we', gwador?" Linwe asked suddenly.
Fileg blinked. "What?"
"We're sworn to Thranduil," Linwe reminded Fileg. "We go where he goes, so assuming he really isn't joking..."
Fileg's eyes widened. "Oh."
"I'm really not joking," Thranduil said, taking the letter out of his pocket and passing it to Linwe across the table. "And, well, I did say to Baralin that I would want the three of you to come, but you don't have to."
"I'm not letting you go without me, gwador, don't be stupid," Fileg said. "Someone with sense ought to come along."
"Then you mean me, obviously," Linwe retorted. "I'm not staying behind when our gwador goes off halfway across Middle-earth."
"And someone has to make sure you don't annoy Linwe so much that he throws you to a dragon," Veassen added.
Thranduil sighed, though he was able to manage a small smile. "Thank you. Maybe just think about it though. If it is a year...well. Nobody wants to be away from home for a year."
"Aiwen will kill me if I'm away from home for a year," Fileg conceded.
"Baralin and I talked about her coming too, but..." Thranduil shrugged, looking deflated. "It all seemed like a really good idea at the time."
"She'll come, if Aunt Felith gives her permission," Fileg assured Thranduil. "A year is a long time, but we're immortal, it won't be very long really." He had travelled with Thoroniel and Aiwen, and their parents, to quite distant lands when they were younger, and was keen to go again.
"I suppose," Thranduil said reluctantly.
"We'll be with you. You'll be safe," Fileg said firmly. "And we're not the only ones going, I expect."
It wasn't about being safe. Thranduil wasn't a coward, to be afraid of the journey. But leaving behind his home, his parents, making his friends leave their families, for a year...that was asking a lot. "No. There would be others," he agreed quietly.
"I understand, gwador. It really is a lot for the Rhûnim to ask, to separate you from your adar and naneth," Linwe said quietly. He might not remember his own parents, but he knew how close Thranduil was to his. "We will miss ours, too, of course. But you hold our oaths, gwador. You are our Prince. We will go with you, no matter what."
"And don't try leaving us behind, because it won't work," Veassen added.
Thranduil couldn't help feeling bad, but he did appreciate his friends' determination to be with him. And of course, he knew that when he was far from home, he would need them to keep him sane. "Well, it won't be for a little while yet, anyway. Probably not for a month at least."
"That makes sense," Linwe agreed. "We'll have to get ready, and that can't be done overnight."
Fileg nodded agreement. "New clothes to look like the Rhûnim, for one thing," he said thoughtfully.
"New clothes," Thranduil confirmed. "I think Lutha is going to be helping with that."
"Lutha likes designing clothes," Fileg reflected. "Didn't the tailors try to steal him from the Elders?"
"Yes, although he still spends a bit of time with the tailors," Thranduil replied. "There's an elleth in there he fancies." The Prince paused. "Actually, there's someone in every department at the palace who he fancies."
Linwe grinned. "He'll have to pick one eventually."
"One day far, far, far away," Veassen said drily.
"What's he going to do, wait for Thranduil to get married first?" Linwe wanted to know. Then he sighed. They'd gotten off topic.
"Well, perhaps he'll meet a nice person in Rhûn, and surprise us all by settling down," Veassen replied.
"Perhaps," Linwe agreed. "Perhaps there are elves in Rhûn. Who knows?"
It seemed they would be finding out.
(To be continued, with part two...whenever it's completed. I'll post links here when they're ready)
Title: The Dragon-Son and the Son of the Wood
Rating: probably PG/PG-13
Theme: Spring Fever
Elements: Ginseng
Author's Notes: Thranduil was 1000 years old at the time of the Last Alliance in Emma's and my-verse (we've had to revise his birthdate a time or two, I think.) Since that was SA 3441, he'd be 50 in SA 2491, and as this is the following Spring, it's SA 2492.
Summary: A few months after his fiftieth Begetting Day, Prince Thranduil pays a visit to the Empire of Rhûn. A story which was going to be told in triple drabbles...until I got the idea to co-author it. Now it's going to end up being MUCH longer...lol. Work in progress.
Word Count: About 4600 at the moment. And this is only the first part...Boy am I in trouble, lol. The rest is (as yet) unwritten since this is a tale that grew in the telling, including the part where Thranduil will fall ill. But it's planned, and it will be coming. I promise!
Qīng Lóng (Azure Dragon - Wood/East/Spring) The letter had come to Greenwood, all the way from Rhûn. Oropher and Felith had expected it - a letter inviting them to send their Embassy East, to greet the newly crowned Emperor. They had not, however, expected the Emperor’s entreaty to be addressed to Thranduil. This letter was written in the alphabet common to Men and Elves of the West, though strange characters - the Rhûnic speech, they knew - alternated lines with it.
From Tiānzǐ Tyan-yu, Son of Heaven, unto the Lords of the Wood, salutations. We wish to express Our congratulations on your son’s coming of age, for Our Great Father’s ambassador spoke highly of the Wood-folk. Now that We are the Great Son of Heaven, may it be that Our realms will remain in kinship.
We do not take you from your fair realm, but live in hope that the Son of the Wood will deign to grace Us with his presence in Our realm as fast as the Lord Dragon may speed him. We will treat him with the kindness and respect due Our own kin.
Signed,
The Emperor’s own personal seal followed a string of characters the Elves could not read.
Thranduil stared in shock at Oropher and Felith. “Rhûn?” he managed to stammer out. “Alone?”
“Of course, not alone, silly elfling,” Oropher said fondly. “You will be accompanied by members of Greenwood’s embassy to Rhûn - your guards, naturally, but we will permit you to select others you feel will serve you best.”
"But I don't understand." Thranduil returned his gaze to the letter. "Why do they want me?"
Oropher didn't answer right away, thinking. Finally, he spoke.
"Do you remember," he said, "when the ambassadors from Rhûn first came for our coronation? They brought a great stone dragon with them."
There was no way that Thranduil could forget that great dragon. He had spent many an hour quietly confiding in it. A couple of times, it had even talked back. Well, all right, that had been the chief of the gardening staff lending his voice to the dragon, but still. It had impressed an elfling prince. "Of course, I remember," said prince replied out loud.
"I believe you made a favourable impression on the Rhûnim that day," Oropher said. "They certainly believe you made a favourable impression on their dragon."
"I did?" Thranduil blinked, casting his mind back. "They liked me?"
"They were very impressed with you," Oropher nodded. "Their Chief Ambassador told me that the Lord Dragon had chosen you. I never did quite understand what that meant," he added ruefully.
The Queen, though she hadn't said much, had not taken her eyes off her son. "How do you feel, Thranduil?"
"Well...it's quite a long way to travel, even not-alone," Thranduil ventured.
"It is a long way," Oropher agreed quietly. He didn't know how he felt about that.
"But I can do it," Thranduil added hastily. If the people of Rhûn wanted him, he would go. He hated to let his parents down, and he didn't intend to do so now.
"We know you can do it, Thranduil." Oropher gave Thranduil a hug. "It is not as though this is your first trip outside Greenwood without us." Thranduil had at least gone to Lothlórien, suitably guarded, both with his parents and without them, and Baralin had taken their elfling on some of his nearer expeditions. But Rhûn was the furthest from home their elfling would have gone yet.
"No. But it will be my furthest," Thranduil said.
Oropher nodded agreement. "Yes, it will at that."
"Have you been?" Thranduil asked.
"I haven't," Oropher said. "Uncle Baralin travelled East when we lived in Doriath, however. He travelled to many faraway places."
"I will accept the invitation to go," Thranduil said dutifully. "But perhaps before I leave, I could talk to Uncle Baralin about it, so I know what to expect."
"That is well, sweetling. You might even take him with you, if you like," Oropher suggested. "You do not have to, though."
"I suppose if I have to take a real grown-up with me, it might as well be someone fun," Thranduil reflected.
"Mhmm," Oropher chuckled at that. "It might as well."
"Not that you're not fun," Thranduil added. "But you weren't invited."
"No, your nana and I weren't invited," Oropher agreed.
"I'm sure it's nothing personal." Thranduil smiled, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "They just liked me better."
"Elfling," Oropher retorted, lightly smacking Thranduil's bottom, though his lips twitched with barely hidden amusement.
"Oh, you love me really," Thranduil said.
Oropher tugged Thranduil into his embrace, giving him a cuddle. "That has never been in question, laes-nin. Of course, we do."
"So do the people of Rhûn," Thranduil added under his breath.
"Yes, they do," Oropher agreed. He hoped that meant Thranduil would be safe in Rhûn.
"Should I go and talk to Uncle Baralin now?" the elfling asked. "Oh, and should I speak to the ambassadors from Rhûn, to accept their invitation?"
"Speak to Uncle Baralin first," Oropher said after a moment. "He will help you with the ambassadors, I am sure, laes-nin."
Thranduil nodded dutifully. Affectionate as ever, he gave both his parents a hug and a kiss, making them smile, before leaving to find his uncle. Well, great-uncle to be pre...no, great-great-uncle. Even one great was too much of a mouthful, so Thranduil just stuck with Uncle Baralin.
Baralin, as it happened, was in his rooms in the palace, and he had Luthavar with him. The two were playing a spirited game of Warriors and Baralin was losing quite thoroughly (for Lutha had captured his queen, two advisors, and four soldiers) when Thranduil found them.
Thranduil knocked on the ajar door to announce himself, but he hesitated somewhat as he stepped through. "Sorry," he said. "I'm disturbing you both."
"No, it's all right," Baralin said. He glanced at the board. "Lutha just won, anyway. Come in, nephew."
Thranduil walked further into the room, and he perched on the arm of Luthavar's chair. "Lutha always wins."
"Oh, that's an exaggeration," Luthavar replied. "I just win occasionally. Sometimes. Well, quite often. A lot."
"A lot," Baralin chuckled, ruffling his son's hair, then reaching around Lutha to give his nephew the same treatment. "Now, what can I do for you? Or is it Lutha you came to see?"
"I came to see you, actually." Thranduil paused. "Sorry, Lutha. No offence."
"Plenty taken," Lutha replied idly.
Thranduil knew his cousin well enough by now to know when he was being funny. He looked up at Baralin. "I want to talk about Rhûn."
"Rhûn?" Baralin asked, looking the elfling in the eyes intently. "Is this something to do with the ambassadors' visit?"
"I've been invited to go to Rhûn," Thranduil replied. He still had the letter, so he took it out of his pocket and handed it to his uncle.
Baralin took it, and his eyebrows rose sharply as he read in silence. "The Emperor himself invited you to court."
"Just me," Thranduil said. "Not Ada and Nana."
"Yes, I noticed that too," Baralin agreed. "But for the Emperor himself to issue an invitation is...unusual. Normally it will be a trusted advisor writing in the Emperor's name, and sealed with his ring. The Emperor is very busy, after all. But see, right here." Baralin pointed to the string of Rhûnic characters on the red paper. "The Rhûnim are very particular about colours. See how it is signed with golden ink, not black? That is the emperor's personal colour."
Thranduil tilted his head as he considered that. "I think if Ada was extending an invitation to another ruler, or his or her heirs, he would write it himself. He wouldn't delegate that. It might cause offence."
"That is true," Baralin acknowledged. "I meant, Tyan-yu is quite young, only just barely of age himself, or so I see it - the Rhûnim think otherwise, I suppose. He is thirty years younger than you, though I doubt the difference in your ages will be apparent. He was not even begotten yet when his father's men came to visit at the coronation."
"I don't think I can refuse the invitation, can I?" Thranduil asked.
"Why, were you planning to refuse?" Baralin asked teasingly.
"Well...no, not really. It's just..." Thranduil glanced at Lutha, shifted uncomfortably, then looked back at his uncle. "I've never..."
"What my little cousin is trying to say, and what he thinks I'll judge him for, which I won't," Luthavar drawled, "is that he's never been so far from home without his parents before, and although he won't decline the invitation, because he would never want to risk offending an ally, he's worried that he'll feel terribly homesick. Is that anywhere in the vicinity of accurate, Thranduil?"
The Crown Prince's cheeks had coloured to a shade similar to rosy apples. "Yes. Thank you, Lutha."
"And I won't judge you either, Thranduil," Baralin said, giving Thranduil a fond squeeze. "You surely won't be going alone, though. Oropher and Felith would never send you back with the Rhûnim unguarded."
"I know that," Thranduil assured his uncle. "But I won't be going with them, either. That's the only thing that makes me hesitate. I do want to do well, though. I want to be a good heir and to help Ada. And, well, I like adventures."
"You're a very good heir, nephew." Baralin patted Thranduil's shoulder reassuringly, "and you will always make us proud. I know you like adventures. You and Lutha have that in common with me."
"Well, perhaps you might come with me then," Thranduil suggested. "You have been there, you know the people and customs better than I do. You could advise me."
Baralin smiled slightly at that. "Yes, I... we? could do that," he said. He glanced at Lutha, trying to figure out what his elfling thought of that.
"If I've got nothing better to do," Luthavar replied, though the smile he gave his cousin said that yes, of course he would go.
Thranduil exhaled, relieved. "Thank you."
"Who else did you want to invite, Thranduil?" Baralin inquired.
"Fileg and Veassen," Thranduil said promptly. "I suppose Linwe ought to come too." It didn't matter that his eldest sworn brother wasn't there to hear it; he still wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.
Baralin snorted softly. "You suppose," he agreed. "Yes. Anyone else?" He could well imagine how Fileg would react were he invited and Aiwen not, though Thoroniel likely wouldn't care to go. Aiwen would want to, he thought.
"Aiwen?" Thranduil suggested after a moment. "She likes adventures."
"Maybe five elflings is enough," Luthavar commented. "I'm not babysitting."
Baralin laughed. "Five elflings is perfect," he agreed. "And you will want one of your Naneth's ladies as a chaperone. Not Emlineth, Felith needs her and the twins would resent it," he added dryly. "Ravennie has travelled with you before."
"Lady Ravennie ought to do well," Luthavar agreed cautiously, while Thranduil muttered under his breath about he and his friends being called elflings.
"I am sorry, Thranduil. Of course, you are not elflings," Baralin said gently, "you are of age now, after all. But I am afraid even your Daernana Neldiel was always an elfling in my eyes, so I hope you will excuse me for calling you one."
"If I still get called 'elfling' then you're definitely still getting called 'elfling'," Lutha said. He paused. "Prince Elfling."
"No," Thranduil scowled. He looked at Baralin. "How many guards will I have to take? I suppose my father will have the final say about that."
Baralin shook his head. "This is your embassy, nephew, not Oropher's. He will advise you, but he will not dictate to you. The five of you, plus Luthavar, Ravennie and I is eight. I would suggest having one guard for each of us. Eight is the luckiest number in Rhûn, and they greatly prefer having numbers doubled. Sixteen would be very auspicious for the embassy. And I strongly caution you, should we split up in Rhûn, to never go wandering in groups of four, either with our people alone or in combination with theirs. Four is very unlucky, the Rhûnim will see it as an ill omen."
"I'll have to write this down so I remember it all," Thranduil muttered. The last thing he wanted was to offend his hosts. "All right, so sixteen. I'll think about it, and make a list. But Captain Boronthor will be coming, of course."
"Naturally," Baralin nodded, smiling slightly. "You might ask Rochirion and Rochendil for help with that - you will want some elves along who can help with the horses, as well."
"All right. I'll do that," Thranduil replied.
"Good," Baralin said. "And you will also want to see about getting some new clothes, all of you elflings - Lutha, you too," he added.
"As if he needs an excuse," Thranduil muttered.
Baralin chuckled. "Hmm. Do you have any other questions for me just now, nephew, or do you want to go let your gwedyr and Aiwen know what is going on?"
"I'll go and tell them," Thranduil replied. "There's no rush, is there? The embassy from Rhûn only just arrived. They won't want to be rushing back right away."
"No rush at all," Baralin agreed.
"All right. Well, I'll do that now." Thranduil stood up, and smiled at his uncle. "Thank you for your help. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, Thranduil." Baralin smiled back. "I'll get Lutha over to the clothiers to see about arranging proper clothing. Lutha and I can give them an idea of what's proper to wear in Rhûn."
Thranduil had been about to leave, but he stopped and turned back. "We can't wear our own clothes?"
Baralin raised his eyebrows. "These will be your own clothes, nephew," he replied.
"Be more specific," Luthavar ordered his cousin.
Thranduil rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "I meant, we can't wear the clothes that we already possess?"
"We'll bring some of them, surely," Baralin conceded. "But the climate of Rhûn is different from Greenwood's, and the fashions are different, too. We will already stand out enough by being Elves; we don't need to stand out more by wearing inappropriate clothing."
"Is it very hot there?" Thranduil asked.
"In some areas, though not as much as Harad. Let me show you - I think I have some from my last trip there." Baralin opened the door that led into his dressing room (with all the travelling he and Luthavar did, he'd collected a myriad of clothes from different lands) and came back out a few minutes later with an armful of typical Rhûnic clothing. It consisted of a linen undertunic and trousers, with silk garments to wear over them, and silk shoes with leather soles. "This is the sort of thing you can expect," he said, "mostly, the royal and noble Rhûnim wear silk, as it is expensive, but it is preferred. As a prince, you will be entitled to it, and your cousins and gwedyr likewise." A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he glanced at Lutha. He wondered what his very fashionable elfling would make of them.
"It's beautiful clothing," Thranduil said slowly, lightly touching it.
"All Rhûnim wear similar cuts of clothing, though the noble and royal Rhûnim's clothing is made of finer materials, and more elaborately decorated than the poorer ones," Baralin explained. "This is a man's outfit. Women wear similar outer garments, though their underclothing is of course different." In short, he was telling Thranduil, all Rhûnim wore robes and there was nothing he could do about it.
"You like wearing robes, don't you, Thranduil," Lutha said idly.
"Oh, it's my greatest joy," the Prince agreed, leaning over to flick his cousin's ear. He looked at Baralin. "The clothes are beautiful. They may not be what I would usually wear, but I won't offend the Rhûnim by not following their customs."
"That's our good elfling." Baralin patted Thranduil's shoulder. "I know you think robes are silly, nephew. But at least everyone will look silly together then, hmm?"
"I don't think they're silly, I just think they're impractical," Thranduil replied sensibly.
"Well, the Rhûnim think otherwise," Baralin said wryly, "and they are quite practical there, at least, I promise you."
"I've said that I'll wear the appropriate clothing, and I will," Thranduil promised.
Baralin nodded. "Go tell the other elflings then, and you'd better mention to your nana that you're borrowing Ravennie," he added. He remembered Ravennie recalling him from Harad to Khand when Lutha had been seduced by the Khandian Empress. That had been fun, he thought sarcastically. But she watched his elfling closely; it went without saying that she would watch the other elflings just as closely, and this time he would be on hand.
Thranduil nodded dutifully and left his uncle and cousin, but he stuck his head back around the door a moment after he'd stepped through it. "We're not elflings." He disappeared again.
Baralin snorted. "If you're an elfling, yonya, he's definitely an elfling," he remarked to Lutha after Thranduil had disappeared again.
Thranduil went to his room and wrote two letters. The first, to Veassen. Come to the Little House as soon as you can. I've got news! The second, to Linwe. Your Crown Prince commands you to attend on him at your earliest convenience, or sooner, at the Little House. (Please.) He went out onto his balcony, and whistled, and his hawk flew out of a nearby tree and landed next to him.
"Take these to Linwe and Veassen, please," Thranduil said. "I'll be gone by the time you get back, but I'll bring you a mouse later. I promise."
Aranel bobbed her head to Thranduil obediently and - with the letters secured in her message tube - flew off to find Linwe and Veassen. Luckily for her, they weren't hard to find; they'd been racing their horses on the Racing Field, and now were resting under a nearby tree, refreshing themselves from their waterskins. They weren't expecting Aranel to fly down and perch on the tree branch beside them, with a loud cry to get their attention.
Veassen looked up, shading his eyes. "It's Aranel."
Linwe was nearer, so he put his leather glove back on his left hand, and coaxed her onto it, stroking her head with his uncovered fingers. "What's this you've got for us, Aranel?" He opened the message tube and withdrew the two letters. "Thranduil sent two separate letters. I guess he couldn't expect we'd both be together, even if it's likely," he observed, lightly tossing Veassen's to him. He returned the message tube's cap to its proper place. "Does Thranduil want an ans-" he began, but Aranel was already flying away. "Guess not." He shrugged and opened his letter.
Veassen unrolled his letter and glanced briefly at the short note contained within. "He's got news."
Linwe looked down at his own. "My Crown Prince commands me to attend on him at my earliest convenience," Linwe intoned sardonically, "or sooner, at the Little House, 'please'."
"Of course he does," Veassen laughed, his brown eyes sparkling. They all knew how much Thranduil liked to tease the eldest of their group. "We'd best go, then."
Linwe nodded. He collected their horses, put the waterskins away and mounted up. "Whatever it is, do you suppose Fileg and Aiwen are involved?" he asked.
"I expect Fileg, at least, will be with him," Veassen replied, as they headed back to the settlement. "I wonder if he knows about this news, whatever it is, already."
They bypassed their own houses and went straight to the cottage that Thranduil had lived in with his parents for only a couple of short years before everything had changed. The King and Queen didn't spend much time at the cottage - or the Little House, as everyone affectionately called it - any more, but Thranduil often went there to stay with his friends when he needed to get away from the palace.
As Linwe and Veassen tethered their horses and started walking up the path, they heard hoofbeats behind them. They turned to see their Crown Prince and sworn brother approaching the Little House, in company with Fileg. "You're both on time," Thranduil observed cheerfully, dismounting.
"As if we would be late, your Highness," Linwe retorted, though he was smiling.
"I could have been late," Veassen informed Fileg, as Thranduil unlocked the Little House. "But Linwe was royally commanded to be here at his earliest convenience or sooner."
Fileg laughed. "Oh, Linwe was royally commanded, but you weren't." He smirked at that. "I wasn't royally commanded," he added, "Thranduil just found me and said "I've got something to tell you, but you have to come with me first." Does that count?"
"Well, it was clearly a command that left you with little choice, but I'm not sure if it was a royal command," Veassen reflected. "Sounds like it fell a little short of being that."
Although the Little House wasn't permanently lived in, a couple of members of housekeeping staff came in every week to keep it freshly aired and clean, so that it would always be ready if the King, Queen, or Crown Prince, decided on a whim to make use of it. They also brought fresh food each week, and anything perishable that hadn't been used by the time they visited next would be used elsewhere so nothing was wasted.
Thranduil led the way to the kitchen and took out a box of honey cakes, before joining his gwedyr around the table. "Can you guess what my news is?"
Fileg gave his cousin a considering look. "You've found an elleth to marry," he suggested.
"I have not," Thranduil replied.
"Today marks an entire month without you getting into trouble?" Veassen asked.
Thranduil shook his head. "It does not."
"You've decided to only speak in three-word sentences?" Linwe suggested.
Thranduil took out a honey cake and tossed it across the table to Linwe. "As if I could manage that."
Linwe caught it mid-flight, smirking at his gwador. "You did all right for a little bit. All right, your Royal Highness, suppose you tell us what this is all about."
"I shall," Thranduil agreed. "I'm going to Rhûn."
Linwe stared, then laughed incredulously. "You're joking."
"Why would I be joking?" Thranduil asked.
"That's...it's Rhûn, gwador," Linwe replied. "It'll take weeks to get there, months even, not to mention how long you'd have to stay there to make going worthwhile, and how long it would take to come back. You'd be gone at least half a year, if not a whole one."
Thranduil's smile faded. "A year?"
Linwe nodded. "At least half of one, anyway. You'd be in Rhûn for months just to see the whole thing."
"Not that it's not worthwhile, Thranduil," Fileg added quickly. "Just...Rhûn is big, you know. Or you would know, if you paid attention in lessons. It's one of the biggest lands in all Middle-earth."
"Yes, I do know that it's big, thank you," Thranduil retorted. "I'm not going there to see the sights. The Emperor wants to meet me. It would be a diplomatic visit to one of our allies, not a sightseeing tour."
“Maybe," Fileg conceded, "but it might as well be. You'd be travelling through Rhûn a fair way just to reach the capital, it's not on the western border. They have it centrally located."
"Is it 'you' or is it 'we', gwador?" Linwe asked suddenly.
Fileg blinked. "What?"
"We're sworn to Thranduil," Linwe reminded Fileg. "We go where he goes, so assuming he really isn't joking..."
Fileg's eyes widened. "Oh."
"I'm really not joking," Thranduil said, taking the letter out of his pocket and passing it to Linwe across the table. "And, well, I did say to Baralin that I would want the three of you to come, but you don't have to."
"I'm not letting you go without me, gwador, don't be stupid," Fileg said. "Someone with sense ought to come along."
"Then you mean me, obviously," Linwe retorted. "I'm not staying behind when our gwador goes off halfway across Middle-earth."
"And someone has to make sure you don't annoy Linwe so much that he throws you to a dragon," Veassen added.
Thranduil sighed, though he was able to manage a small smile. "Thank you. Maybe just think about it though. If it is a year...well. Nobody wants to be away from home for a year."
"Aiwen will kill me if I'm away from home for a year," Fileg conceded.
"Baralin and I talked about her coming too, but..." Thranduil shrugged, looking deflated. "It all seemed like a really good idea at the time."
"She'll come, if Aunt Felith gives her permission," Fileg assured Thranduil. "A year is a long time, but we're immortal, it won't be very long really." He had travelled with Thoroniel and Aiwen, and their parents, to quite distant lands when they were younger, and was keen to go again.
"I suppose," Thranduil said reluctantly.
"We'll be with you. You'll be safe," Fileg said firmly. "And we're not the only ones going, I expect."
It wasn't about being safe. Thranduil wasn't a coward, to be afraid of the journey. But leaving behind his home, his parents, making his friends leave their families, for a year...that was asking a lot. "No. There would be others," he agreed quietly.
"I understand, gwador. It really is a lot for the Rhûnim to ask, to separate you from your adar and naneth," Linwe said quietly. He might not remember his own parents, but he knew how close Thranduil was to his. "We will miss ours, too, of course. But you hold our oaths, gwador. You are our Prince. We will go with you, no matter what."
"And don't try leaving us behind, because it won't work," Veassen added.
Thranduil couldn't help feeling bad, but he did appreciate his friends' determination to be with him. And of course, he knew that when he was far from home, he would need them to keep him sane. "Well, it won't be for a little while yet, anyway. Probably not for a month at least."
"That makes sense," Linwe agreed. "We'll have to get ready, and that can't be done overnight."
Fileg nodded agreement. "New clothes to look like the Rhûnim, for one thing," he said thoughtfully.
"New clothes," Thranduil confirmed. "I think Lutha is going to be helping with that."
"Lutha likes designing clothes," Fileg reflected. "Didn't the tailors try to steal him from the Elders?"
"Yes, although he still spends a bit of time with the tailors," Thranduil replied. "There's an elleth in there he fancies." The Prince paused. "Actually, there's someone in every department at the palace who he fancies."
Linwe grinned. "He'll have to pick one eventually."
"One day far, far, far away," Veassen said drily.
"What's he going to do, wait for Thranduil to get married first?" Linwe wanted to know. Then he sighed. They'd gotten off topic.
"Well, perhaps he'll meet a nice person in Rhûn, and surprise us all by settling down," Veassen replied.
"Perhaps," Linwe agreed. "Perhaps there are elves in Rhûn. Who knows?"
It seemed they would be finding out.
(To be continued, with part two...whenever it's completed. I'll post links here when they're ready)