The History Of Legolas – Thranduil and Almwen

Author’s Note: First off, The Lord of the Rings and all associated characters belong to Tolkien and his estate. I am not making any profit off of this story, save the enjoyment I had making it.
Secondly, I would like to note that this story is, as the title says, a history of Legolas. He is my favorite character, and the mystery to his background was always wonderfully interesting to me, so I decided to write about it. I formed my own ideas through the essays of Michael Martinez and Ellen Brundige and formed a sort-of timeline for Legolas’ life; before and during. I also used the infamous Ardalambion as a source for Nandorin, the tongue of the Green-Elves.

Sources:
http://www.uib.no/People/hnohf/index.html - Ardalambion
http://www.istad.org/tolkien/legolas.html - Legolas of Mirkwood, a Prince Among Equals (Ellen Brundige)
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/tolkien/36517 - Speaking of Legolas… (Michael Martinez)





It was a beautiful night in the valley of Emyn Duir. The sky was cloudless, and the pale light from the full moon shone down through the dense forest, illuminating the soft, grassy paths.

Thranduil, the newly crowned prince of Greenwood the Great, walked through the trees just outside where there was a great celebration being held for the establishment of the new realm. Sounds of music and singing drifted through the trees, making them come alive.

Unlike his father, Thranduil was rather displeased with the union of the Silvan elves with his Sindarin kin. He found the Silvan elves to be rustic and strange in thought. Their language, art, traditions, and lives were different. Oropher had chided his son, saying that he was the one strange in thought to not accept their new Silvan friends.

Thranduil sighed as he walked through the forest and looked about the trees that surrounded him. Oh, how he longed for the deciduous trees of his old home! He missed the beautiful leaves that changed their colors with the seasons. These new fir trees did not shed their leaves. They were unchanging. And however beautiful their green color was, and how nicely they smelled, Thranduil did not like them because they were different.

“My Lord, has this tree offended you?” A voice asked.

Thranduil jumped out of surprise and looked up into the branches of the fir tree he had been staring at and noticed for the first time that he was not alone. There, on the lowest branch of the fir tree, was an elven maiden. It was dark where she sat, and Thranduil was only able to discern that she was a maid from her voice and from the outline of her figure. Though, she spoke in the Sindarin tongue, making him believe that she was one of the Sindar.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You glare at this pine as though it had done something to earn your contempt. Do you find something wrong with it?”

Embarrassed, Thranduil backed away and shook his head. “No, there is nothing wrong with it. I was deep in thought.”

The elven maid chuckled to herself from her spot up in the tree. The blonde-haired prince raised a brow at her, wondering what in the world could possibly be so funny, and why she was sitting in a fir tree in the first place.

“If you do not mind me asking; why are you in that tree?” He asked.

“I like sitting in trees.” The maid answered simply.

“Should you not be at the celebration?”

“Should you?”

Now it was Thranduil who chuckled and shook his head. “I take it that you were not enjoying it?”

“Not in the least, sir.” She replied.

“I am glad to know that I was not the only one.” Thranduil said. “My father thought I was strange for having a certain lack of joy this night.”

“As does mine. He welcomes this change more than I do.” She sighed. “I do not resist these changes…I’m just saddened that the ways of old are fading away.”

Thranduil smiled, glad that he had found someone with the same ideas he had, and that they could connect. A few moments of silence crept into their conversation. The prince looked up into the tree, and could see that the maiden was staring down at him.

“Might I know your name?” Thranduil asked, breaking the silence.

“You might, but I doubt you do!” The elf-maiden teased. Thranduil laughed.

“Will you tell me your name?” he rephrased.

“Perhaps, if you tell me yours first.” She replied.

“I am Thranduil, son of Oropher who established this realm. Certainly if you are Sindar, you would know of me.”

“Why do you conclude that I am of Sindar origin?” The maid asked.

“You speak the Noble Tongue fluently, my lady. Those who are Silvan, in their ignorance, have scarcely learned it.”

“Ignorance?” The woman asked.

“Yes.” Thranduil said.

“I thought it was not the Sindar’s aim to change the Silvan elves’ ways of life.” The girl pointed out.

“No, but one would assume that they would at least try to learn the language.” Thranduil snorted.

It was then that the elven-maid jumped from her perch in the tree and revealed herself to him. And much to Thranduil’s horror, he realized that she was clothed in Silvan garb, and had a distinctly Silvan face, which looked particularly disgusted at that moment in time. Her dark eyes bore into his blue ones, making the prince feel quite uneasy.

“My lady, I apologize, I - ”

“You may call me Lady Almwen, thank you very much. And I do think that I have disproved your theory of my people being ignorant, have I not?” She spat at him.

“You have, Lady Almwen.” He said.

“It would seem that the only ignorant party here is the one which chooses not to accept others for their differences and scorn them for it.” Almwen said disgustedly. And with that, she turned on her heel and walked towards the celebration, leaving a very dumbfounded and embarrassed Thranduil in the dust.

Just as Almwen disappeared into the grove of trees, Thranduil sprang forward and called out: “My lady! I’m sorry, I did not mean to be so brusque!”

But it was no use. The sounds of the celebration drowned out the disgruntled prince’s apology as Almwen approached where the rest of her kin and their new Sindar friends were feasting and celebrating.

Thranduil followed her back to the feast, but lost her when he encountered the crowd of merry elves that were dancing about outside the newly made capital of Greenwood the Great, Emyn Duir. Before he could seek the elf-maiden any further, Thranduil heard the distinct call of his father.

“My son! You have decided to join us!”

Thranduil turned to his left and saw his father there, arms open and a grin on his face. Oropher was a tall elf, taller than most. He appeared as young as his son did, though he was many years older. His fair hair, long, hair was golden and his eyes were blue. Thranduil and his father were spitting images of each other.

“Good evening, Father.” Thranduil said exasperatedly.

“Now what’s wrong?” Oropher asked, assuming that his son was still pouting about the establishment of Greenwood.

“I fear I have offended someone, and I am searching for her, though, I cannot seem to find her. She disappeared among the trees.”

“Ah. You let your tongue get away with you. As always,” Oropher chuckled. Thranduil cast his father a disproving look and sighed and crossed his arms, still glancing through the crowd to see if he could find Almwen.

“Well, who is this girl who you have so vexed?” his father asked.

“Lady Almwen, she said her name was.”

With that, Oropher began to laugh and turned, trying to hide his amusement from his son. He was unsuccessful.

“What have I done now that amuses you so?” Thranduil sighed. He found it preposterous that out of the pair, his father was more laid back.

“You do not remember when I introduced you to Veryandil, my new advisor? He mentioned that he had a daughter, did he not?”

Thranduil felt his stomach drop out of his chest. Veryandil was a Silvan Lord who had helped Oropher and the Sindarin lords establish Greenwood. Almwen was his daughter, who was now a lady of the court.

“You had better make amends, my son, for you will be seeing much of Lady Almwen in my halls from now on!” Oropher chuckled as he slapped his son on the back and walked off to join some of his councilors that were standing a few steps away.

Across the gathering, Almwen had joined her father and her mother and watched as Thranduil had spoken to his father and looked across the crowd for her. Her mother caught her staring.

“Has the Sindar prince caught your eye?” her mother teased.

“No, Mother,” Almwen said. “in fact he has quite earned my contempt.” Almwen said disgustedly.

“I’m sure he is not that bad.”

“Nay. Worse.”

Almwen’s mother smiled. “I’m sure that you two can learn to be great friends. You will be seeing much more of him from now on, my dear. Perhaps you will become even more than that!” she teased.

Almwen gave her mother a grave look. “I seriously doubt that, Mother.”