Disclaimer - I don't own them, they belong to Master Tolkien. (Except the
ones you have never heard of before) I make no money from them or from
anything else.
This one is being written as a birthday present for Artanis. She wanted a sweet, hot, romance, which is something I have not written before and wouldn't do for just anyone! Happy Birthday, Artanis! Many kisses from Glorfindel (which is what you really want!)!!
Author's Note: Laerlend means "sweet summer" as she was born in the summer on Artanis' birthday!
Okay, I know that Elves do not force marriages of convenience on their children. So in that aspect and a few others this is obviously AU.
Bells Of Silver
Prologue
A gentle summer's breeze drifted across the garden stirring the carefully tended flowers and filling the air with their delicate scent. Small bright butterflies and fat bees floated among the blossoms, delicate wings glimmering in the shafts of sunlight that fell through the interlaced branches overhead. Eryn Lasgalen, formerly known as Mirkwood, was no longer the spider and Orc infested forest that it had been in former times. In this the Fourth Age it was a place of great beauty and peace. And on this day its people were preparing for a celebration.
Garlands of roses and ivy had been strung in the trees; silver lanterns were hung in the branches; tall, slender oaken poles carved with twining vines and flowers lined the pathway of white stone that the bride and groom would soon tread. Fair Elvish voices were raised in song or laughter as they decorated long tables with snowy embroidered cloths and filled delicate fluted vases of silver with colorful blooms. Musicians and singers sat in small knots, tuning their harps and lutes, playing low melodies on wooden flutes, and sweet voices rose in happy songs.
Not far away a pair of bright hazel eyes watched the activities with an air of vexation and apprehension. Laerlend released the branch she had pulled back to peer into the clearing and stepped quietly away. The flash of silver on the index finger of her right hand caught her attention. She glared at the symbol of her betrothal, the silver so clear and bright. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a caged bird; and anger raged through her. To most such a ring represented the union of two lives through love, but to her it was a symbol of her life being ensnared by another: a loss of her freedom and who she truly was. She hurried on swift feet away from the merry occupation of her friends and their lighthearted revelry.
"This cannot be happening!" She murmured as she hastened down a forest path, heedless of the silvery beech trees that gleamed in the sunlight. The day was beautiful and bright, but she was only aware of the pain and fear in her heart. She moved off the path and into the trees, allowing her feet to carry her deeper into the woods.
In a few hours time she would be married and her life would no longer be her own. Most maidens looked upon their wedding day with great happiness and nervous anticipation. But not Laerlend. Hers was a marriage of convenience, not love. And as the daughter of a king this sort of marriage was perhaps to be expected. But she had always hoped to pledge her life to someone she loved or at least cared for. As Arwen had. But such was not her fate. She would be wed this night to someone she barely knew, someone she had met for the first time at their betrothal a year ago and seen very little of since. He had arrived in Mirkwood a few weeks before to become better acquainted with her before their marriage took place. She would marry him. It was her duty. A word she was beginning to hate.
She sighed heavily. Above her the birds sang in the treetops, so joyful and totally oblivious of her pain. She had come to what she considered her special place: a small secluded grove surrounded by slender flowering trees, their drooping branches dripping with pale green leaves and pink blossoms. A small clear pool of water rested in the center of it, fed by an underground stream. She dropped to the fragrant emerald grass beside it and sighed again.
She stared at her reflection in the water, the sun falling through the trees at her back making her blonde hair shine like a halo about her fair face. Her brows knit and she ran her fingertips through the cool water, scattering the image into fractured ripples, shattered like her life.
And yet..
She reached up into her hair and drew out a small spray of silver blossoms known as Celebnellath: Silverbells. She twirled the stem in her fingers, breathing in its sweet fragrance. She gazed at the delicate silvery-blue petals, the slender lavender tendrils fluttering in the blossoms' center. Though her eyes were on the flowers, she had ceased to see it. Instead she saw the face of the one who had given it to her this morning and placed it lovingly in her hair. It was a fair, masculine face framed by long golden hair. His eyes were as blue as the summer sky above. And when he spoke to her, not as an Elder would to a child, but as an equal.
Something fluttered inside her, an unknown feeling never felt before. It was an odd feeling, yet strangely pleasant. A smile played across her full pink lips, her eyes softening.
"Glorfindel." She whispered with uncertainty, and her heart raced.
But then she frowned, her eyes caught by the silver once more.
"No." She stated firmly. "I do not love him."
She stood and dropped the flowers into the water. She felt a twinge of regret as they swirled slightly in the ripples. But she turned resolutely away and strode out of the grove, her head held high, eyes hard.
"I do not love him." She repeated beginning to run, fleeing the confusing, conflicting emotions that assailed her.
A tall figure emerged from the trees that ringed in Laerlend's grove. He had watched the Elf maiden as she sat by the water in silence gazing at the flowers. He had felt a thrill of hope when she had raised it to her lips, her glorious eyes so tender. He sighed and moved to the pool, kneeling to retrieve the wet blossoms. A ring of silver matching Laerlend's circled his own strong finger.
:I knew this was a mistake: he thought sadly. :I did not think I would need to guard my heart so closely:
He raised the flowers to his lips and closed his eyes.
"Ah, Laerlend. You have stolen my heart away. And yet yours remains untouched by anything that I do. What can I do to win you?" He sighed once again and opened his eyes. "I have waited my entire life to find you and you only flee from me. What am I to do?"
He lowered himself gracefully to the ground and stared out across the water. One year ago they had met for the first time. It had not been love at first sight for him. It wasn't supposed to be love at all. He smiled wryly, recalling the day he arrived in Eryn Lasgalen to meet his bride.
This one is being written as a birthday present for Artanis. She wanted a sweet, hot, romance, which is something I have not written before and wouldn't do for just anyone! Happy Birthday, Artanis! Many kisses from Glorfindel (which is what you really want!)!!
Author's Note: Laerlend means "sweet summer" as she was born in the summer on Artanis' birthday!
Okay, I know that Elves do not force marriages of convenience on their children. So in that aspect and a few others this is obviously AU.
Bells Of Silver
Prologue
A gentle summer's breeze drifted across the garden stirring the carefully tended flowers and filling the air with their delicate scent. Small bright butterflies and fat bees floated among the blossoms, delicate wings glimmering in the shafts of sunlight that fell through the interlaced branches overhead. Eryn Lasgalen, formerly known as Mirkwood, was no longer the spider and Orc infested forest that it had been in former times. In this the Fourth Age it was a place of great beauty and peace. And on this day its people were preparing for a celebration.
Garlands of roses and ivy had been strung in the trees; silver lanterns were hung in the branches; tall, slender oaken poles carved with twining vines and flowers lined the pathway of white stone that the bride and groom would soon tread. Fair Elvish voices were raised in song or laughter as they decorated long tables with snowy embroidered cloths and filled delicate fluted vases of silver with colorful blooms. Musicians and singers sat in small knots, tuning their harps and lutes, playing low melodies on wooden flutes, and sweet voices rose in happy songs.
Not far away a pair of bright hazel eyes watched the activities with an air of vexation and apprehension. Laerlend released the branch she had pulled back to peer into the clearing and stepped quietly away. The flash of silver on the index finger of her right hand caught her attention. She glared at the symbol of her betrothal, the silver so clear and bright. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a caged bird; and anger raged through her. To most such a ring represented the union of two lives through love, but to her it was a symbol of her life being ensnared by another: a loss of her freedom and who she truly was. She hurried on swift feet away from the merry occupation of her friends and their lighthearted revelry.
"This cannot be happening!" She murmured as she hastened down a forest path, heedless of the silvery beech trees that gleamed in the sunlight. The day was beautiful and bright, but she was only aware of the pain and fear in her heart. She moved off the path and into the trees, allowing her feet to carry her deeper into the woods.
In a few hours time she would be married and her life would no longer be her own. Most maidens looked upon their wedding day with great happiness and nervous anticipation. But not Laerlend. Hers was a marriage of convenience, not love. And as the daughter of a king this sort of marriage was perhaps to be expected. But she had always hoped to pledge her life to someone she loved or at least cared for. As Arwen had. But such was not her fate. She would be wed this night to someone she barely knew, someone she had met for the first time at their betrothal a year ago and seen very little of since. He had arrived in Mirkwood a few weeks before to become better acquainted with her before their marriage took place. She would marry him. It was her duty. A word she was beginning to hate.
She sighed heavily. Above her the birds sang in the treetops, so joyful and totally oblivious of her pain. She had come to what she considered her special place: a small secluded grove surrounded by slender flowering trees, their drooping branches dripping with pale green leaves and pink blossoms. A small clear pool of water rested in the center of it, fed by an underground stream. She dropped to the fragrant emerald grass beside it and sighed again.
She stared at her reflection in the water, the sun falling through the trees at her back making her blonde hair shine like a halo about her fair face. Her brows knit and she ran her fingertips through the cool water, scattering the image into fractured ripples, shattered like her life.
And yet..
She reached up into her hair and drew out a small spray of silver blossoms known as Celebnellath: Silverbells. She twirled the stem in her fingers, breathing in its sweet fragrance. She gazed at the delicate silvery-blue petals, the slender lavender tendrils fluttering in the blossoms' center. Though her eyes were on the flowers, she had ceased to see it. Instead she saw the face of the one who had given it to her this morning and placed it lovingly in her hair. It was a fair, masculine face framed by long golden hair. His eyes were as blue as the summer sky above. And when he spoke to her, not as an Elder would to a child, but as an equal.
Something fluttered inside her, an unknown feeling never felt before. It was an odd feeling, yet strangely pleasant. A smile played across her full pink lips, her eyes softening.
"Glorfindel." She whispered with uncertainty, and her heart raced.
But then she frowned, her eyes caught by the silver once more.
"No." She stated firmly. "I do not love him."
She stood and dropped the flowers into the water. She felt a twinge of regret as they swirled slightly in the ripples. But she turned resolutely away and strode out of the grove, her head held high, eyes hard.
"I do not love him." She repeated beginning to run, fleeing the confusing, conflicting emotions that assailed her.
A tall figure emerged from the trees that ringed in Laerlend's grove. He had watched the Elf maiden as she sat by the water in silence gazing at the flowers. He had felt a thrill of hope when she had raised it to her lips, her glorious eyes so tender. He sighed and moved to the pool, kneeling to retrieve the wet blossoms. A ring of silver matching Laerlend's circled his own strong finger.
:I knew this was a mistake: he thought sadly. :I did not think I would need to guard my heart so closely:
He raised the flowers to his lips and closed his eyes.
"Ah, Laerlend. You have stolen my heart away. And yet yours remains untouched by anything that I do. What can I do to win you?" He sighed once again and opened his eyes. "I have waited my entire life to find you and you only flee from me. What am I to do?"
He lowered himself gracefully to the ground and stared out across the water. One year ago they had met for the first time. It had not been love at first sight for him. It wasn't supposed to be love at all. He smiled wryly, recalling the day he arrived in Eryn Lasgalen to meet his bride.