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Title: The Duke's Eldest Daughter (#1224)
Author: kika988
Chapters: 3

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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: Jane is the plain, mortal daughter of a Duke who has a chance encounter with a striking elf who could end up saving her life. Based on a Heather Alexander song.
Published: 28 Aug 2004
Updated: 23 Oct 2004
Warnings:
Type: Romance
Characters: Jane(OC), Gandelon(OC), Legolas


Chapter 1 - Grief and Healing

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a fic based on a song (by the same name) sung by Heather Alexander, a wonderful Celtic singer. I am elaborating and expanding upon the basic storyline of that song and placing it in Middle Earth. . . when I heard her singing about an elf I knew it was inevitable! I hope you like it!

Grief and Healing:

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears that had seemed to have been falling nonstop for the past two days to cease. Ever since the death of the woman who had been the only mother she had ever known, she could not seem to stem the tears, and now, as she was attending Wynn's funeral, was no exception.

Even before Jane's mother had died in childbirth with her youngest sister, Wynn had always been more of a mother than a servant. Of course, to her sisters, a servant was all she was. They had never understood the bond between Jane and the woman who had been their mother's servant before her death. Even after her death, they had wondered at her grief.

"Really, Jane. It is so distasteful to go to the burial of a maid," Blythe, the youngest sister at sixteen, had said, wrinkling her delicate nose prettily as Jane had prepared to leave.

"Yes Jane, what will people think?" Hilda, eighteen, had agreed.

"They will think that I have lost someone who was close to me," Jane had replied quietly before slipping out the door.

Jane flushed at the memory as some indifferent hired men dug the grave, slinging dirt dangerously close to her. Her sisters had never understood, never would. They, being beautiful and graceful, trained perfectly as duke's daughters should be, had no end of friends and acquaintances, while Wynn had been all Jane had growing up. Jane did not begrudge her sisters for any of what they had, though. It was not their fault that they had turned out as perfectly as could be hoped for, while she had been plain and somewhat clumsy from childhood.

As Wynn's plain pine casket was lowered into the ground, a flood of memories came to Jane; memories of being rocked to sleep, of being taught songs in a beautiful language that no one else she knew could speak, of being comforted when the strains of life became too much. As the memories flowed through her mind, Jane unconsciously gripped the stem of the white rose, which had been Wynn's favorite flower in life, not realizing what she was doing until a thorn pierced her skin.

With a cry, Jane flung the flower away from her, the pure white rose landing on top of the casket just before the first shovel full of dirt could be dumped on top of it. The men who had dug the grave stopped in their work to send pity filled glances her way as her face crumpled and she ran away in the direction of the nearby woods, clutching her bleeding hand.

She soon found her way to 'her' tree, with its wide, welcoming branches, which she climbed into without hesitation, taking care to not use her hurt hand in the process. She looked down at her clenched fist. Blood was beginning to show between her fingers; she must have hurt herself worse than she realized. She slowly opened her fist, wincing at the searing pain that shot all the way up to her wrist. Aware of the fact that she was using her physical pain as a distraction from her emotional turmoil, Jane carefully touched her hand, using the tail of her dress to wipe away the blood. She clenched her jaw in pain as she examined her hand, finding that it had been three thorns that had pierced her hand, not just one. She was silently cursing herself for her stupidity when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.

"Who is there?" she called out fearfully. She had never encountered anyone in this part of the woods in all her years of coming here; besides, it was on her father's land. Her eyes widened as a man stepped out from behind a tree.

"My apologies, my lady," he said. Jane could do nothing but stare. His voice was smooth as honey, deep and melodic. It somehow did not seem to fit him. He was tall and lean, with long, straight blond hair that reached halfway down his back. The thought struck her that such beautiful hair should make him look feminine, but it somehow managed to only enhance his masculinity.

The fact that she had noticed his looks at all was a bit unsettling; Jane was not one to be distracted by a man. She raised her eyes to his – eyes a shade of green whose depths seemed to hold secrets of times she could not fathom - and was immediately overtaken by an overwhelming calm. She was no longer nervous or frightened.

“No apologies needed, sir. It is due to my own neglect to paying attention to my surrounding that I was startled,” she said, shifting slightly to hide her bleeding hand behind the tree she was still sitting in. The man smiled, almost indulgently, before holding out his hand.

“May I?” Jane eyed him suspiciously, not understanding what he meant. “Your hand, my lady. It is injured, is it not?” Jane lifted her chin stubbornly.

“It is fine, sir. A small cut is all.” The man raised his eyebrows a bit and continued to hold his hand out with such an expectant air that Jane finally sighed and presented her hand to him. He held her hand firmly in his, and glanced up to meet her eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to her hand, over which he began to murmur strange words; beautiful words of a language that seemed comforting and familiar, yet exotically foreign to Jane at the same time. She started in shock as warmth began to spread throughout her hand, but he held her hand so firmly that even her jerk of surprise did not dislodge her hand from his grip.

After the initial moment of shock, Jane found herself relaxing and spent the time he held her hand in his watching his face in fascination; his eyes were closed in concentration and yet his countenance was completely relaxed. After what seemed like several minutes, but had actually been only a few seconds, he released her hand and stepped back. He remained silent as Jane clenched and unclenched her fist several times. There was still a mark from the scratch on her hand, but it was much smaller and she felt no pain whatsoever from it.

“How did you do that?” she asked in amazement. “What language was that you were speaking? What were you saying? What is your name?” The questions tumbled from her, causing the man’s lips to quirk slightly.

“My name is Gandelon, my lady, and regretfully I must take my leave.” Before Jane could utter a word of protest, he had turned to walk away and seemed to melt into the trees.

She stood there a moment more, trying to figure out what about the man had to captured her interest, even before he had performed his feat of healing her hand. He seemed to exude. . . something. Something she could not quite put her finger on, something that she would almost call magic except that it seemed too strong of a word for so subtle a presence. Realizing that her father was expecting her home and would be worried for her, Jane soon left her tree to hurry home.

Jane did not realize that as she stood by the tree, she was being observed by a pair of bright green eyes. Gandelon watched the maiden with interest, seeming to detect something different about her; something that set her apart from the other mortals he had encountered. He did not know why he had offered to help her – what trouble was it of his if a mortal maid had sustained a minor injury? – but for some reason he had felt drawn to help her, and had not bothered to resist the pull. As he watched her retreat into the trees, he felt an odd pang of regret when he realized that he had not asked her name.


Chapter 2 - Of Marriageable Age

AUTHOR’S NOTE: After some of the comments I received on the first chapter, I think I should clear the issue about the names up. The elf’s name, Gandelon, is Sindarin. The human names – with the exception of Jane, whose name I got from the song – are taken from Old English, which is also how Tolkien named his human characters. I am having to find the Old English names online, so I am always open to any suggestions as to sites where I could find human names. Thank you to all who have reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this next segment!

Of Marriageable Age:

“Where have you been?” The question hit Jane like a slap in the face as soon as she stepped through the door.

“You know well where I was,” she replied, brushing off the question as she had learned to brush off the majority of what her sisters said. It was somewhat of a survival tactic after the years of verbal assaults from them.

“We know well where you should have been,” Hilda corrected imperiously. “You came from the woods, not from the path as you should have.” Jane would have been perfectly content to go on ignoring her had Blythe not moved her willowy form to block Jane’s access to the stairs. Jane sighed in frustration.

“I took a shortcut through the woods, if you must know. Now please let me by, as I have better things to do than stand in the foyer all afternoon.”

“Oh, she has ‘better things to do’,” Blythe snickered to Hilda over Jane’s head. “Such as? Go to a gathering? Go for an afternoon ride with an interested male?”

“How easily you forget, Blythe!” Hilda scolded her younger sister mockingly. “Our dear eldest sibling has no male friends!” For a fleeting moment, before her ire was staunched, Jane was sorely tempted to tell them of her meeting with the handsome man in the woods, but some unknown force stayed her tongue.

“I have no need of them,” she replied before brushing past Blythe.

Jane hurriedly retreated to her room and closed the door behind her, fixing the latch snugly to keep out any unwanted guests. She moved over to her mirror and frowned at her reflection as she began picking the bits of leaves and twigs out of her hair from her flight through the trees. Unlike her sisters, who had requested full-length mirrors, Jane’s was only large enough to show her straight brown hair and plain brown eyes. She saw no need to remind herself of her lacking height and several extra pounds on a daily basis, so she had asked for the smaller mirror with the impossibly intricate silver patterns around the edge. It had been a gift from Wynn, though she had never told Jane where she got such fine craftsmanship.

As soon as she had combed the last of the debris out of her hair, there was a knock at her door. Jane sighed, knowing that it was likely one of her sisters, but propriety prompted to open the door anyway. Instead, it was one of her father’s servants.

“Lady Jane, your father requests your presence immediately in the library.” Jane nodded her understanding and followed the man to the designated meeting place.

As the servant opened the large double doors to the library, Jane could not help but smile at the smell of old leather-bound books and long-burning candles that wafted out at her. When she was younger, she thought that the unique smell of the library was the smell of knowledge.

Her father was seated at the desk he kept in the corner. He had his own office, but often preferred to work in the library, where he could take a break to read from one of the numerous volumes he had collected over the years.

“Father?” Jane said, stepping into the room. Duke Aldfrid, her father, had never shown Jane the hostility she had experienced from her sisters and even her mother before her death. He had always been a loving and supportive, if not somewhat idealistic, father to her. He looked up from his work with a warm smile as she arrived.

“Jane,” he greeted her with a smile. “How are you today? Well I should hope?” Jane smiled.

“I am well, though still grieving Wynn’s passing, as should be expected.” Her father nodded in acceptance, though he had never quite approved of her closeness with the servant. He pursed his lips, glancing up at Jane in a moment of silence. He knew that she was quite plain, nowhere near as beautiful as her sisters, but she had the best nature and the fastest wit of any of his daughters, and he loved her dearly. When she was younger, and still small enough to do such things, he had always looked forward to the days when he could set aside his work for an hour or two so that Jane could curl up in his lap while they read together. She had always had the longing to read, while her sisters would doze off before completing a full page.

He glanced back up at Jane, who was looking at him curiously, wondering at his strange silence, and immediately blocked out those memories, as they would make what he was about to do more difficult than it already would be.

“Jane,” he began, “I have been thinking of you of late; of your future.” Jane paled and sank down in a nearby chair as he began, as she knew where this could very well lead, but she remained silent. “I know that you have not had as many suitors as your sisters-”

“I have had none, Father,” Jane interjected quietly. He sighed and continued.

“Nonetheless, you are of marriageable age, and I do not wish for you to be alone all your life.” He leaned forward earnestly. “Jane, I can only hope that you do not believe that I wish to rid myself of you by marrying you to any available man. I love you, and because of this I wish for you to have a full life, with a good husband and a family of your own.”

“I would be content living here with you until the end of my days,” Jane protested.

“You say so now, but what will happen when I am gone and you are left to run the household alone? I cannot live with the thought of you being here alone with no one to care for you, Jane.” He sat up straight and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to declare. “Despite the fact that you have had no suitors as of yet, I know that you are an agreeable and intelligent girl that any man would be proud to have as his wife. I feel that perhaps the reason you have not had any suitors is that you have always remained in the shadows, while your younger sisters have been out in society and are quite well known among the people. Therefore, I will make it known that because you are my eldest daughter, and because you and your future husband will be my sole heirs, you must wed before either of your sisters may do so.” Jane shot up form her chair before she could restrain herself.

“But Father! Hilda has many suitors, and one young man may ask for Blythe’s hand at any moment! It may be a year or more before I can find a suitable husband-” she had to work to force the words out of her mouth, “-but they will wish to marry much sooner than that!”

Duke Aldfrid pursed his lips, as he was wont to do when standing firm in a judgment he had made, be it for his daughters or workers, and shook his head. “That does not matter. An announcement such as this will draw attention to you, and you will be happily wed before you know it.” He smiled at the last statement as if it were something to look forward to before going back to his work, effectively dismissing his eldest daughter.

Jane turned and walked slowly from the room, managing to keep her calm façade until she had shut the doors behind her, at which point in time she hurried to a side door, not wishing to draw any more attention to herself than necessary. As soon as she was outside she broke into a run, heading for the second time that day for the tree which forever offered her comfort.

This time when she reached the tree, she did not cry over her fate, but sat staring down at her hands for several moments before she began singing, as she often did to calm her nerves.

A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
Calad ammen i reniar
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
I chin a thûl lín míriel...

Jane had never been quite sure what the words to the song meant; it was one of the many songs of the same beautiful tongue that Wynn had taught her. The haunting melody was often all it took to calm her when she was troubled, but now even singing could not relieve her from the thoughts flying through her mind. She had always expected that she would someday marry, but it had always seemed something in the distant future; now it seemed incredibly close and out of her control.

What if she had to marry an older man? A younger one? What if he was cruel? What if he lived in the city, where she could never see the open sky or run under the trees again?

Despite the fact that it was near dusk and she knew that her father often chastised her for staying out in the dark, Jane could not bring herself to go home to face what she knew would be a terrible wrath from her sisters, so she wandered through the forest which she felt she knew as well as the back of her own hand.

(song verses)
The duke’s second daughter was ravishing fair
Bright blue were her eyes and bright gold was her hair
The duke’s youngest daughter, with eyes like the sky
And hair like night shadows made courtiers sigh
But the duke’s eldest daughter, a maiden called Jane
Brown haired and brown eyed was decidedly plain

No suitor had she, not a soul sought her hand
Although she must wed first, by her father’s command
And nobody knew nor would care if were told
That plain little Jane had a voice of pure gold
Since no one would miss her at night on her own
Through evening dark forest she’d wander alone

A/N: At the end of every chapter, if I cover any actual song verses I will place them at the end of the chapter, as I did with the first two verses above. The song Jane sang was one the elves sang of Elbereth, . The translation is:

O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O light to us that wander
Amid the tree-woven lands of Middle-earth.
O Elbereth Star-kindler
Your eyes and breath [are] like shining jewels...

I hope you enjoyed this and will continue to read!


Chapter 3 - The Harper

The Harper:

Jane wandered in a seemingly aimless fashion through the trees, safe in her knowledge of the area, but still wary of any creatures who could jump out and startle her. She did not carry any weapon with her, but she was safer than she knew, as she had a silent guardian watching her every step from the trees above.

Gandelon had heard the song of Elbereth through the trees and, the fact that it was a hauntingly beautiful voice singing an Elven song leading him to believe it was one of his kin who sang the age-old tune. However, when he had traced the sound to its source, he was surprised to find not an Elleth, but a human girl; the very same human girl who he had assisted earlier in the day. He stayed to hear the end of the song, resisting the urge to join in himself, and found himself following her until she sat down to rest against the trunk of an ancient tree, and promptly fell asleep. At that time he left her, knowing that no wild animal or fellow human would harm her while his fellow elves guarded the woods.

He moved quickly and silently across the forest floor until he came to the clearing he knew well, where several of his friends had already gathered. He bent to retrieve his harp from where he had hidden it the night before, and was checking the tuning when he heard his name called from across the clearing.

“Gandelon! Where have you been, mellon nin? We have been waiting for you!” Gandelon grinned at his friend as he approached.

“I was delayed, Legolas. My apologies. But what kept you from starting without me? Surely even you could hold a decent tune without some background music!” Legolas pretended to sing a note, straining and breaking off after only a few seconds.

“Evidently not,” he said sadly, shaking his head melodramatically. “It seems that no Elven voice in Ithilien can function without our harpist.”

“Well then,” Gandelon replied as he struck a chord on the harp, “let us sing!” And so they did, the Ellons singing while the Elleths danced in the moonlight, which filtered in through the surrounding trees. Gandelon felt the wind run through his hair as he played, and felt as if the wind in this magical location was somehow dancing as well. He was wholly absorbed in his music, caught up in the beat and the notes, his fingers running over the strings of the beautiful silver instrument. His eyes seemed to be out of focus, as he totally lost touch with Middle Earth as he played. There was no feeling in the world that could match that which he felt when his music transported him to what seemed to be a whole other plane of existence. . . or so he thought.

~*~*~*~*~

Jane awoke suddenly from her nap, taking a moment to get her bearings, as she had not intended to fall asleep when she sat down. She stood and started to turn towards her home, but stopped suddenly, with her hand resting on the tree she had slept against and her head cocked slightly to the side. Something was different. She could not put her finger on just what it was, but the forest felt . . . different. Somehow not as dark and foreboding as it had before. It even seemed to exude an aura of happiness. . . so much, in fact, that she imagined that she could hear music.

She shook herself slightly to rid herself of such thoughts. No one played music at such hours, especially out in the middle of a wild forest! And yet there it was again! It seemed to sound as hardly more than a distant tinkling of small bells, but it was definitely something. Perhaps nothing more than the wind in the leaves, and yet she was drawn to find out for herself, so she turned in the direction that she supposed it might be coming from, and began walking.

She had been walking for what seemed like forever and was about to give up when the sound seemed to start growing clearer. As she continued walking in the same direction, she could soon hear voices singing – men’s beautiful voices, like none she had heard before – and an instrument; a lute, or harp, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was played with skill and emotion, that much was certain, she thought firmly as she drew nearer.

Suddenly the trees just seemed to stop, and she was standing at the edge of a clearing. It was a large clearing with a bit of a slope to it, making a hill right in the middle, and just on the other side of the gentle slope she could see the source of the music. She could not see much from the distance at which she stood, but the beauty of the music and the gracefulness of the dancers led her immediately to the incontrovertible conclusion that these beautiful beings must be elves.

She moved as quietly as she could manage along the edge of the clearing, inching closer to the musicians. She was soon close enough to see that the female elves were dancing, moving more gracefully than any being Jane had ever seen. She could also see the male elves who were singing, three dark haired elves and two blonds, one of which was playing a harp. . . the very same elf who had assisted her earlier in the day.

Somehow Jane was too caught up in the moment to be surprised by this strange coincidence; she was more taken by the look of the elf as he played. He seemed oblivious to the elf maidens that seemed to float around him and the elves who put words to his music. She could almost see the music flowing through him, as if he and the music were one and the same, not two separate things.

Jane did not realize that she was singing until the dancers and singers stopped, and only the harper elf’s music was left to accompany her. After a few moments of his lone accompaniment, she realized what she was doing and trailed off, eyes wide, gazing fearfully those beautiful beings who were staring at her. Her eyes eventually found their way to the harper, who, although he continued playing, was also watching her. Seized by a sudden, perhaps irrational, fear, Jane turned and fled away from the glade, but before she had taken more than a few steps a hand grasped her arm.

Gandelon had moved without thinking, racing after the maiden and grabbing her arm, eliciting a strangled gasp as she turned to face him. Now that he had caught up to her, though, he realized that he did not know why he had followed her. He said the first thing that came to his mind. “What is your name?”

Jane gulped nervously but managed to meet his gaze and attempted a curtsy despite his hand, which still held her arm. “I am Jane, daughter of Duke Aldfrid.” She was quite proud of the fact that her voice only shook slightly.

“I am Gandelon of Ithilien,” he said, bowing as he spoke. “Might I ask why an unescorted maiden is in the forest at this time of night?”

Jane raised her chin slightly at the suggestion that she needed an escort. “I have walked alone through these woods since I was a child, my lord. I did not need an escort then and do not now, as I know this area better than any who would be appointed to guide me.” Gandelon’s mouth turned up a bit at her defiant tone. Jane narrowed her eyes, thinking that he was mocking her. “My apologies for disturbing your music, sir,” she said coldly. “I will leave you and your companions to-”

“I would rather you not,” Gandelon interrupted, once again without any forethought. “What I mean is, your lovely voice would be a nice addition to our music,” he added at her shocked expression.

“Oh, I. . . I could not possibly. . . I would be intruding. . .”

“It would be no intrusion,” a firm voice said from behind Gandelon. He stepped aside as one of the elf maidens and the other golden-haired elf who had been singing stepped forward. “I am Legolas, and this is my wife, Maranwe. You are welcome to join us, though I must admit that I am curious as to how a mortal knows a song in our tongue.”

“More than one,” Gandelon added in. “I heard you singing earlier,” he said in reply to Jane’s curious gaze.

As Legolas seemed to be waiting for an answer, Jane thought back to when she had first learned the songs. “Wynn, my. . . caretaker, taught them to me many years ago, though I do not know the meanings of all the words.” Legolas seemed startled at her words, as did Maranwe.

“What did you say her name is?” Maranwe asked quietly.

“Was,” Jane corrected sadly. “Her name was Wynn. She died this past week.” Legolas and Maranwe glanced at each other with sad eyes that Jane observed with blatant curiosity, curiosity that would go unanswered for the moment, as Gandelon stepped in.

“Shall we continue the music?” he suggested lightly, trying to evade the darkened mood that had descended upon his comrades. Legolas forced a smile.

“Yes, come join us, Jane.” They led Jane back to the glade, where, after some hasty introductions to the elves she had not yet met, they began singing again, all songs familiar to Jane through Wynn’s teaching. She sang along, softly at first, but them more boldly, surreptitiously sneaking glances at Gandelon when she could. Once she accidentally caught his eye, and he smiled encouragingly at her, causing a blush to rise to her cheeks.

It was over all too soon, the music and dancing fading as dawn broke and the first rays of faint light shone through the trees. Jane’s eyes widened in surprised when she realized how much time had passed; the hours had flown by like minutes, and now she might be missed before she could return home. She hastily thanked the elves for their hospitality and excused herself, rushing off before any could protest.

She did not make it far before she found Gandelon at her elbow. “I will see you home,” he stated simply.

“I know the way to my home, sir Elf,” Jane asserted stubbornly. “You need not trouble yourself over me.”

“And how is it a trouble to walk through the trees with a kind maiden?” he countered lightly. Jane stared up in shock at the elf, her sharp retort dying on her lips, as she had not expected such an answer. She pursed her lips and they walked to the edge of the woods, where her father’s home could be seen across a field, in silence. “I will watch to make sure you make it inside safely,” he informed her at the edge of the field from where he hung back in the shadow of a large tree, his blue eyes seeming to glitter in the dark. Jane nodded politely and thanked him for seeing her safely home before turning to leave.

“I do hope you will join us again,” he said before she was out of hearing range. Jane turned back to see those blue eyes watching her intently. “Your voice has a quality which is rare in elves and even more so in mortals. . . your heart is in it.” As he spoke, he seemed to fade into the trees and disappear. Jane stood staring where he had stood for several moments before turning and hurrying into the house.

Song verse:

Poor Jane knew a secret, she’d learned it by chance
A place in the forest where elves came to dance
At night as she watched them and their magic ring
Enthralled by their music, Jane started to sing
Shocked by her own boldness, was still pleased to find
That harpist and dancers did not seem to mind

A/N: Yes, I know a magic ring is mentioned in the song, but I’m not opening that can of worms! In case anyone did not pick up on it, yes Legolas is married in this fic. If you are curious as to who Maranwe is, you may want to read my other fic, I Will Catch You, which tells their story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I’ll try to update soon!
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