larienelengasse, In the Time of the Burglar, PG-13, Thranduil/Glorfindel, Lindir/ Legolas
For larienelengasse
Title: In the Time of the Burglar
Author: alexcat
Category: FPS
Pairing: Thranduil/Glorfindel, Legolas, Lindir
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer. I do not own nor do I profit from the use of these characters.
Summary: An unexpected love for the King and his son in Mirkwood.
~~~
It was happenstance that Glorfindel, Lindir and the sons of Elrond were in the kingdom of King Thranduil when things got very interesting during the time of Bilbo the Burglar and his curious adventure. The night they arrived in Mirkwood, Thranduil told them a tale of strange Dwarves in the forest.
“We caught them watching us several times at our camps in the forest and when we finally did catch them, I separated them and imprisoned them but somehow they got away. I have never been quite sure how that happened.”
“Did you find them?” Glorfindel asked.
“Not yet but I suspect they were headed to the Lonely Mountain. Word is that old Smaug the Dragon is disturbed and rumbling in his hideout.”
“The dragon under the mountain? I can’t say as I’ve ever seen a dragon,” Elladan said.
“Have you seen him, Sire?” Elrohir asked Thranduil, leaning forward in his seat, eager to hear more.
“Not for many years. He is no Balrog but he is mighty and terrible just the same. He scorches the earth wherever he pleases and takes all the gems and treasures for his own,” Thranduil answered as he motioned for his servant to bring more wine. It was very seldom that he allowed visitors into his home and he meant to enjoy it as much as he could.
They were joined by another elf just as the wine arrived.
“Ah, my son, Legolas, these are elves from Elrond in Rivendell, west of the Misty Mountains. Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lindir the Bard and the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir.”
Legolas smiled a gentle smile and bowed to the guests. “Welcome to our home. I do hope your journey was safe.”
Glorfindel nodded to Legolas and began speaking. “We hear you have had guests. Dwarves. So have we. The wizard, Mithrandir, was with them when they came to us. And one more as well.” He did not mention who the one more was, not willing to give too much information.
“They were not voluntary guests,” Legolas said as he sat down and was served food and wine. He thanked the servant before turning his attention back to the visitors. “I fear they are heading for the Lonely Mountain. There was once a Dwarf King under the mountain and I would not be surprised to see these dwarves trying to take the mountain back now for their own.”
“But the dragon lives there,” Elladan said,
“Perhaps they believe they can defeat him,” Legolas said.
“Can they?” Elrohir asked.
“Perhaps by some trickery, but I think not in any war. Legend says that only the soft underbelly of a dragon is vulnerable but I cannot imagine that loud rabble being able to sneak up on Smaug in order to kill him.”
Thranduil tapped his glass. “Let us not talk of dragons and wars tonight. Let’s eat, drink and perhaps have a song from Elrond’s Bard. Will you sing for us, Lindir of Rivendell?”
Lindir took a slow sip of his wine and nodded. He was much more than a bard in Rivendell but making music was what he enjoyed most of all things. He never turned down a chance to sing for his dinner.
The elves laughed and talked through several courses before Lindir retrieved his lyre and began to play. He strummed it and tuned it a bit while the rest of the company finished their desserts and gathered at the stone fireplace with cups of hot tea or warm mead. When all were seated, he began to sing a ballad of Lúthien, the most revered of elves.
All were attentive and moved by his lovely voice and flawless playing but Legolas, in particular, seemed entranced. He could not take his eyes from the Rivendell elf. He felt as if he’d never heard music before. The rest of the room simply ceased to exist for him.
Glorfindel always enjoyed Lindir’s playing and singing and tonight was no exception but he was also enjoying looking at the King of the Green Wood. Thranduil was a handsome one, despite his haughtiness. A king had a right to a bit of arrogance, he supposed, but Thranduil was a bit excessive. He wore it well though. Very well indeed.
Thranduil caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. Glorfindel merely shrugged and raised his glass in a silent toast.
*
The delegation had only been there for a few days when news came from the Lonely Mountain. Esgaroth upon the Long Lake was no more; Smaug had destroyed it. Smaug himself was dead at the hands of Bard the Bowman.
Thranduil called his guests to his throne room as soon as he’d heard the news.
“My friends, the Dragon, Smaug, has been killed so I mean to march on the Lonely Mountain and take part of the treasure there. We have lived in the shadow of the monster these many years and I mean to have my share since the Dwarves we imprisoned were the ones who woke him and caused all this trouble to begin with. I can only assume they are out of the way now so we may take our compensation.”
Glorfindel was not afraid of war. Fear does not tend to drive one who has seen his own death and Glorfindel had seen his already. He was ready and willing to go into battle with his new friend,
“Is treasure of so much importance?” he asked Thranduil.
“I will have my share. That dwarf and his rabble invaded my territory and my home and had the nerve to scurry away like so many river rats.”
Thranduil stopped for moment then looked Glorfindel straight in the eye. “Besides, I mean to have it because I am owed that much for the aid I give to the men of hereabouts and because I did not kill those dwarves when I first laid eyes on them.”
Glorfindel nodded and no more was said about the subject.
The Rivendell elves did not ask to be included in the army. They simply sharpened their swords and arrows and tightened their bowstrings. They would follow King Thranduil into battle.
*
Late that night, Glorfindel heard a sharp rap on his door. It was the king.
“Come in, your Highness.”
“I am Thranduil, Glorfindel. As a warrior, I am not fit to clean your boots. I do hope that in the confines of this room, we can be friends and never let the trappings of authority make us anything other than who we are.”
Glorfindel knew what he hoped the King was saying but he kept quiet, waiting for him to finish.
“I would be more to you than simple friend. My wife is dead these many years, killed by the fire of the dragon and I am alone but for my son.”
Glorfindel’s head shot up. He had never heard how the wife of Thranduil had died.
“Many years ago, my wife was in the town of Lake-town, doctoring the children for some fever that was killing them one by one when Smaug stormed out of his mountain and scorched the earth all around as he was often known to do. It just happened to be the earth my dear wife was occupying at that moment.”
Glorfindel said nothing, simply nodded his head. He knew that there were no words to ease grief, even after many years, and to try only sullied the memory of the dead. His acknowledgement of the king’s pain was enough.
“I come to you then as a lonely elf, one who seeks a night, a week or a month of companionship. I ask nothing more than you agree to give and I offer nothing more than what you see right now.”
Glorfindel stood and crossed the room, reaching for the king’s hand. The hand was given. Glorfindel dropped to his knees and brought Thranduil’s hand to his lips.
“It is I who is not fit to clean your boots, sire. You have kept your people safe these many years and have raised a fine son here in this hidden wood, even with darkness encroaching on you more with each passing day. I am honored at your request and I am thrilled that you feel as I do.”
He stood up straight and pulled the king into his arms, offering the warmth and love he sought for himself and offering it gladly.
*
In another room, another elf readied for the coming battle. He was young, as elves go, but he had been a soldier in his father’s guard since he’d come of age. Legolas skillfully restrung his bow. He was testing the tension when there was a knock on his door.
He rose and answered, finding both Lindir and his lyre in the doorway.
Legolas smiled. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”
“I was hoping you wanted me to come and, as I am not usually shy, here I am. Shall I play for you?” Lindir asked, stepping into the room.
“Mayhap later. I should like to talk for a bit. Have you ever been to war, Master Lindir?”
“It is just Lindir, my Prince.”
Legolas laughed, a low throaty sound that thrilled Lindir. “I am simply Legolas.”
Lindir put his lyre down and sat upon the floor beside Legolas. “To answer your question, yes, I have been to war. I was very young at the battle of the Alliance of Elves and Men. I was near the back and saw very little action myself but I was still terrified. I am not sure I ever shot an arrow.”
“I have been a soldier here for many years but I have not been into battle. I worry that I will disappoint my father.”
“One can only do his best, Legolas. At the end of the day, I think a person must be true to himself. Sometimes we fight for a cause and sometimes we simply fight for king and country. ”
“Are we right in this?”
Lindir said little for a bit. “I cannot answer that. I know not know the answer but sometimes you have to choose your loyalty, to fight for who you believe in.”
Legolas nodded and changed the subject. “Are you mainly an archer or a swordsman?”
“I am an archer. I cleaned and checked my bow before I came to see you.”
“Then we are ready for war?” Legolas seemed melancholy.
“Something else troubles you?” Lindir asked.
“I - I - have you a mate, Lindir?”
“No, I have never taken a mate. I have not yet met the one I cannot live without. You?”
“Not until now. I think you might be the one.” His voice dropped as he looked down, not meeting Lindir’s eyes.
“Then you feel it as well?” Lindir was smiling as he lifted the prince’s chin to look into his eyes. “I feared that I was destined to pine away for you.”
Legolas laughed, a sound that made Lindir’s heart thump in his chest. “Shall we kiss then, my bard?”
“Indeed we shall.”
And they did. That and more.
*
Their idyll was short as the Army of Mirkwood marched for the Lonely Mountain the next day. The men of Dale arrived as well, demanding their own part of the treasure from under the mountain. To their surprise, Thorin was alive and well, claiming it all for himself as King Under the Mountain. He had dug in and would not be moved. Both elves and men were readying to go to battle with the intractable dwarf.
The Battle, when it finally came, was not between them and the dwarves but instead it was men, elves and dwarves against the host of orcs and their wargs who’d been approaching while their enemies were distracted. It was bloody and not without casualties, even Thorin himself counted among them, but it was a great victory over the hosts of evil, three of every four orcs dying in the great battle. The forces of evil were driven back one more time.
It would not last even though the bonds between the elves of Mirkwood and Rivendell did. Legolas and Lindir met as often as they could, Lindir even visiting Mirkwood for some years before the defeat of Sauron. Glorfindel spent as much time in Mirkwood as he did in Rivendell, not willing to be parted for long from the elf he’d waited two lifetimes to find.
And of course, they were all together in the West at the end of all things.
~end ~
Title: In the Time of the Burglar
Author: alexcat
Category: FPS
Pairing: Thranduil/Glorfindel, Legolas, Lindir
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer. I do not own nor do I profit from the use of these characters.
Summary: An unexpected love for the King and his son in Mirkwood.
~~~
It was happenstance that Glorfindel, Lindir and the sons of Elrond were in the kingdom of King Thranduil when things got very interesting during the time of Bilbo the Burglar and his curious adventure. The night they arrived in Mirkwood, Thranduil told them a tale of strange Dwarves in the forest.
“We caught them watching us several times at our camps in the forest and when we finally did catch them, I separated them and imprisoned them but somehow they got away. I have never been quite sure how that happened.”
“Did you find them?” Glorfindel asked.
“Not yet but I suspect they were headed to the Lonely Mountain. Word is that old Smaug the Dragon is disturbed and rumbling in his hideout.”
“The dragon under the mountain? I can’t say as I’ve ever seen a dragon,” Elladan said.
“Have you seen him, Sire?” Elrohir asked Thranduil, leaning forward in his seat, eager to hear more.
“Not for many years. He is no Balrog but he is mighty and terrible just the same. He scorches the earth wherever he pleases and takes all the gems and treasures for his own,” Thranduil answered as he motioned for his servant to bring more wine. It was very seldom that he allowed visitors into his home and he meant to enjoy it as much as he could.
They were joined by another elf just as the wine arrived.
“Ah, my son, Legolas, these are elves from Elrond in Rivendell, west of the Misty Mountains. Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lindir the Bard and the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir.”
Legolas smiled a gentle smile and bowed to the guests. “Welcome to our home. I do hope your journey was safe.”
Glorfindel nodded to Legolas and began speaking. “We hear you have had guests. Dwarves. So have we. The wizard, Mithrandir, was with them when they came to us. And one more as well.” He did not mention who the one more was, not willing to give too much information.
“They were not voluntary guests,” Legolas said as he sat down and was served food and wine. He thanked the servant before turning his attention back to the visitors. “I fear they are heading for the Lonely Mountain. There was once a Dwarf King under the mountain and I would not be surprised to see these dwarves trying to take the mountain back now for their own.”
“But the dragon lives there,” Elladan said,
“Perhaps they believe they can defeat him,” Legolas said.
“Can they?” Elrohir asked.
“Perhaps by some trickery, but I think not in any war. Legend says that only the soft underbelly of a dragon is vulnerable but I cannot imagine that loud rabble being able to sneak up on Smaug in order to kill him.”
Thranduil tapped his glass. “Let us not talk of dragons and wars tonight. Let’s eat, drink and perhaps have a song from Elrond’s Bard. Will you sing for us, Lindir of Rivendell?”
Lindir took a slow sip of his wine and nodded. He was much more than a bard in Rivendell but making music was what he enjoyed most of all things. He never turned down a chance to sing for his dinner.
The elves laughed and talked through several courses before Lindir retrieved his lyre and began to play. He strummed it and tuned it a bit while the rest of the company finished their desserts and gathered at the stone fireplace with cups of hot tea or warm mead. When all were seated, he began to sing a ballad of Lúthien, the most revered of elves.
All were attentive and moved by his lovely voice and flawless playing but Legolas, in particular, seemed entranced. He could not take his eyes from the Rivendell elf. He felt as if he’d never heard music before. The rest of the room simply ceased to exist for him.
Glorfindel always enjoyed Lindir’s playing and singing and tonight was no exception but he was also enjoying looking at the King of the Green Wood. Thranduil was a handsome one, despite his haughtiness. A king had a right to a bit of arrogance, he supposed, but Thranduil was a bit excessive. He wore it well though. Very well indeed.
Thranduil caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. Glorfindel merely shrugged and raised his glass in a silent toast.
*
The delegation had only been there for a few days when news came from the Lonely Mountain. Esgaroth upon the Long Lake was no more; Smaug had destroyed it. Smaug himself was dead at the hands of Bard the Bowman.
Thranduil called his guests to his throne room as soon as he’d heard the news.
“My friends, the Dragon, Smaug, has been killed so I mean to march on the Lonely Mountain and take part of the treasure there. We have lived in the shadow of the monster these many years and I mean to have my share since the Dwarves we imprisoned were the ones who woke him and caused all this trouble to begin with. I can only assume they are out of the way now so we may take our compensation.”
Glorfindel was not afraid of war. Fear does not tend to drive one who has seen his own death and Glorfindel had seen his already. He was ready and willing to go into battle with his new friend,
“Is treasure of so much importance?” he asked Thranduil.
“I will have my share. That dwarf and his rabble invaded my territory and my home and had the nerve to scurry away like so many river rats.”
Thranduil stopped for moment then looked Glorfindel straight in the eye. “Besides, I mean to have it because I am owed that much for the aid I give to the men of hereabouts and because I did not kill those dwarves when I first laid eyes on them.”
Glorfindel nodded and no more was said about the subject.
The Rivendell elves did not ask to be included in the army. They simply sharpened their swords and arrows and tightened their bowstrings. They would follow King Thranduil into battle.
*
Late that night, Glorfindel heard a sharp rap on his door. It was the king.
“Come in, your Highness.”
“I am Thranduil, Glorfindel. As a warrior, I am not fit to clean your boots. I do hope that in the confines of this room, we can be friends and never let the trappings of authority make us anything other than who we are.”
Glorfindel knew what he hoped the King was saying but he kept quiet, waiting for him to finish.
“I would be more to you than simple friend. My wife is dead these many years, killed by the fire of the dragon and I am alone but for my son.”
Glorfindel’s head shot up. He had never heard how the wife of Thranduil had died.
“Many years ago, my wife was in the town of Lake-town, doctoring the children for some fever that was killing them one by one when Smaug stormed out of his mountain and scorched the earth all around as he was often known to do. It just happened to be the earth my dear wife was occupying at that moment.”
Glorfindel said nothing, simply nodded his head. He knew that there were no words to ease grief, even after many years, and to try only sullied the memory of the dead. His acknowledgement of the king’s pain was enough.
“I come to you then as a lonely elf, one who seeks a night, a week or a month of companionship. I ask nothing more than you agree to give and I offer nothing more than what you see right now.”
Glorfindel stood and crossed the room, reaching for the king’s hand. The hand was given. Glorfindel dropped to his knees and brought Thranduil’s hand to his lips.
“It is I who is not fit to clean your boots, sire. You have kept your people safe these many years and have raised a fine son here in this hidden wood, even with darkness encroaching on you more with each passing day. I am honored at your request and I am thrilled that you feel as I do.”
He stood up straight and pulled the king into his arms, offering the warmth and love he sought for himself and offering it gladly.
*
In another room, another elf readied for the coming battle. He was young, as elves go, but he had been a soldier in his father’s guard since he’d come of age. Legolas skillfully restrung his bow. He was testing the tension when there was a knock on his door.
He rose and answered, finding both Lindir and his lyre in the doorway.
Legolas smiled. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”
“I was hoping you wanted me to come and, as I am not usually shy, here I am. Shall I play for you?” Lindir asked, stepping into the room.
“Mayhap later. I should like to talk for a bit. Have you ever been to war, Master Lindir?”
“It is just Lindir, my Prince.”
Legolas laughed, a low throaty sound that thrilled Lindir. “I am simply Legolas.”
Lindir put his lyre down and sat upon the floor beside Legolas. “To answer your question, yes, I have been to war. I was very young at the battle of the Alliance of Elves and Men. I was near the back and saw very little action myself but I was still terrified. I am not sure I ever shot an arrow.”
“I have been a soldier here for many years but I have not been into battle. I worry that I will disappoint my father.”
“One can only do his best, Legolas. At the end of the day, I think a person must be true to himself. Sometimes we fight for a cause and sometimes we simply fight for king and country. ”
“Are we right in this?”
Lindir said little for a bit. “I cannot answer that. I know not know the answer but sometimes you have to choose your loyalty, to fight for who you believe in.”
Legolas nodded and changed the subject. “Are you mainly an archer or a swordsman?”
“I am an archer. I cleaned and checked my bow before I came to see you.”
“Then we are ready for war?” Legolas seemed melancholy.
“Something else troubles you?” Lindir asked.
“I - I - have you a mate, Lindir?”
“No, I have never taken a mate. I have not yet met the one I cannot live without. You?”
“Not until now. I think you might be the one.” His voice dropped as he looked down, not meeting Lindir’s eyes.
“Then you feel it as well?” Lindir was smiling as he lifted the prince’s chin to look into his eyes. “I feared that I was destined to pine away for you.”
Legolas laughed, a sound that made Lindir’s heart thump in his chest. “Shall we kiss then, my bard?”
“Indeed we shall.”
And they did. That and more.
*
Their idyll was short as the Army of Mirkwood marched for the Lonely Mountain the next day. The men of Dale arrived as well, demanding their own part of the treasure from under the mountain. To their surprise, Thorin was alive and well, claiming it all for himself as King Under the Mountain. He had dug in and would not be moved. Both elves and men were readying to go to battle with the intractable dwarf.
The Battle, when it finally came, was not between them and the dwarves but instead it was men, elves and dwarves against the host of orcs and their wargs who’d been approaching while their enemies were distracted. It was bloody and not without casualties, even Thorin himself counted among them, but it was a great victory over the hosts of evil, three of every four orcs dying in the great battle. The forces of evil were driven back one more time.
It would not last even though the bonds between the elves of Mirkwood and Rivendell did. Legolas and Lindir met as often as they could, Lindir even visiting Mirkwood for some years before the defeat of Sauron. Glorfindel spent as much time in Mirkwood as he did in Rivendell, not willing to be parted for long from the elf he’d waited two lifetimes to find.
And of course, they were all together in the West at the end of all things.
~end ~