The Glass Coffin - A Middle Earth Fairytale

The Glass Coffin – A Middle Earth Fairy Tale (sort of).

"Many years ago, in a place not so very far from here..."

"How far, Grandpa?" squeaked the smallest Hobbit child.

Her slightly elder brother poked her in the stomach and screwed his face up into a passable imitation of their grandmother’s famous scowl. "Hush, Bettany! He said not so very far, alright?"

Grandpa smiled, and ruffled Bettany’s hair. "There’s nothing wrong in asking questions, little Bet. Since you’re so curious, Mirkwood. Mirkwood was the place, and the time was long ago. Long before the second fall of Mordor, long before the Fellowship left Middle Earth forever."

The Fellowship!" Bettany squeaked again, rubbing her small hands together in glee. Even her brother smiled. They were directly related to the great Meriadoc, Peregrin and Frodo from the legends of old, and any tales of the Fellowship were kept by their grandfather. He told them well, the best of all the Hobbits, and tonight’s story would be no exception.

"Is it an Elf tale, Grandpa?" asked Rosebud, from her quiet stool in the corner.

"That it is, my sweet. That it is." The old Hobbit cleared his throat, and waited until all five pairs of shining eyes were upon him.

"The story of the Glass Coffin."

*****

Many years ago, in a place not so very far from here, there was a Prince. He lived deep in the woods of Mirkwood, and reigned with his father Thranduil and his mother on the elven Mirkwood throne. This prince was a skilled archer, the best of all his people. He was sharp of eye, fleet of foot, with an honest heart and a fair face. He was loved by all in the kingdom, and had many friends. Still, the Prince of Mirkwood was unhappy. He longed for adventure that couldn’t be found under the dark tree tops, for an adventure worthy of his skills.
His name was Legolas, and one fine day he sat astride a high tree branch, and contemplated suicide.

"To jump, or not to jump. That, my friend, is the question," breathed Legolas, edging along the tree branch. He paused for a moment, and winced. "Maybe I should’ve worn the Mithril Y-fronts. This bark is giving me crotch burn..."

"Legolas! Prince of Mirkwood! Back away from the tree! I repeat, back away...hold on a second." The Elf standing below him turned around to consult with another Elf. The second Elf looked decidedly out of breath, and seemed to be clutching an important looking scroll in his left hand. Legolas noted that he was also wearing a flamboyant silver ring, engraved with the words ‘The Official Legolas Fan-Club’. He sighed.

Not those nutters again. Every time he tried to do anything fun, dangerous or in this case, suicidal, they were there to stop him. In fact, for a fan-club they could all pull off a highly convincing impression of Thranduil’s secret police.

He leant back against the trunk and waited.

"Can you hear me? I repeat, can you hear me?"

A lone acorn hit the shouting Elf between the eyes. He blinked, then gazed adoringly into the foliage. "I’ll take that as a yes! We have just received news that your father, does not, I repeat, does not wish for you to terminate your life at this point! I repeat..."

There was a distinct thud, and the bushes parted. Legolas allowed the several fans to fawn around him for awhile, and decided to leave when one of the girls licked the side of his head. Really, it wasn’t appreciated. Just as he’d expected, one of his father’s cronies was waiting at a discreet distance with a horse.

"What does my father really want?" enquired the discontented Prince, springing lithely on to the horse’s back.

"He wishes to speak to you about a matter of some importance."

"Oh?" Legolas said, his interest momentarily piqued. Perhaps this was the summoning he so desired, the call that would change his life forever?

Eviriel had the good grace to look uncomfortable before she replied. "He wishes to remarry."

"Oh." Well. That was that, then. Wife number 207, binned. Shame, he’d rather liked Aredwen. She used to make decent conversation, and hadn’t complained when he’d held raucous parties or indeed, just held people. Elves. Girls, to be exact. Interestingly, today’s suicide attempt had directly followed his break-up with Girlfriend number 447.

"Like father, like son," he muttered, before he turned and rode at a hard gallop to the palace.

*****

When most people said the word palace, they said it with a capital letter. We’re going to the Palace. Have you visited the Palace today? Someone wrote ‘Suck Dwarf’ on the Palace wall today. And so on.

Legolas always made sure he pronounced it with a definite small letter. The palace probably didn’t deserve such harsh treatment. Inlays of beautiful dark green marble ensured that it blended with the background, and the building seemed to have grown elegantly from the ground. He reflected that it probably had, in bygone days, been living wood. Now the bark was dead, and the legendary leaves that used to curtain every window were long gone. Only inside were plants cultivated to coat each surface, carpet the floors, provide hanging, fragrant bowers for beds. He climbed the steps quickly, forcing a smile on to his lips as each and every Elf he passed stopped to bid him hello.

Why did everyone like him so much?

"Ah, son. I’m glad you’re here," said his father, beaming from the entrance hall. Legolas braced himself for the worst, remembering the unfortunate day when wife number 137 had actually turned out to be girlfriend 223. That had to have been the shortest marriage in royal history, especially where his father was concerned. "There’s someone I’d very much like you to meet," he added, eyes sparkling, as though Legolas was a child and he had some special surprise. As it was, the handsome Elf leaned against the wall, face a carefully constructed mask of boredom.

"Go ahead."

Undeterred, his father turned around, smiling. "Ariel! Come and meet my son."

As Thranduil’s latest conquest was paraded for his approval, Legolas had to admit the old man had both taste and the charm to go with it. Seducing nearly every attractive Elf in the vicinity had become something of a sport for both of them, Thranduil because he appreciated beauty, Legolas because he was looking for something. Suppressing an inner smile, Legolas kissed Ariel’s hand politely.

Corny as it sounded, he was looking for something...something to take his breath away. Something profound, something that would take hold of his soul and leave him speechless. He wanted a love that was sung of in enchanting melody, a love that would last forever. That was why girlfriend number 447 had been girlfriend 447 and not wife 447. Legolas wanted a wife 1. He wanted a true love. He wanted a fairytale.

"Dwarves beards!" exclaimed Thranduil. Legolas lost the glazed expression and Ariel jumped, startled. The horns were sounding at the wrought golden gates, and as they watched the gates opened, gliding softly into place with a click. All the Mirkwooders crowded at their windows, straining to see who was calling on the King.

A proud white horse, tossing his well-bred head from side to side, stamped impatiently past the guards, pulling an ornate carriage. The carriage paused, and a slim white hand emerged, pro-offering a sheaf of papers to the guards. The horse then continued on its path. Thranduil smiled once again, and took Ariel’s hand.

"Come, Legolas!" he bellowed, descending the steps gracefully, looking every inch the powerful King. "Let us greet these unexpected guests."

His intrigue disappeared. Of course. So-called ‘unexpected guests’ had been arriving at weekly intervals over the past few months. The ‘unexpected’ part meant that Thranduil had done some trade with the Elves of Rivendell, and it had resulted in ‘unexpected’ rewards. As long as his father was able to run the kingdom, Legolas didn’t care how he came by enough wealth to do so. However, he hoped that soon they wouldn’t be visited by some ‘unexpected’, angry warriors, demanding their treasures back.

"No, I am tired, I’ve been...er...hunting all day." His father approved of hunting.

"Good, good. We’ll see you at dinner. Big feast, Ariel’s honour."

Good.

*****
The mirror showed a well-dressed Elf, in the prime of his life. A straight brow and chiselled features were offset by long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Legolas frowned, and saw his reflection follow. Still handsome. He raised one eyebrow. Terrible effort, that looked sexy. Checking to make sure the door was shut, he tried opening his mouth as wide as it would go and squinting. Alright. If he walked around like that, people would soon start shunning him. Even better, he could accompany it with a strange lop-sided walk. Perhaps if he dragged his right foot just so, and skipped every other step...

"Whatever are you doing?"

"Unh?"

He whirled around (as much as one can whirl when imitating a squint-eyed, limping hunchback) and saw Uneren, one of the attendants. More than an attendant, to him anyway. She was considerably older than him, and had been working in his father’s service for thousands of years. Ever since he could remember, Uneren had cared for him and after his mother’s death she’d been one of his few true friends. Her white hair was plaited thickly down her back, and she seemed on the verge of laughter. Legolas realised how foolish he must look, and immediately straightened up.

"Oh. Er...I was trying to...er...exercise." Yes, that was it. "Exercises, to keep me fit, you know..." He made a feeble attempt at some kind of standing up sit-up, then stopped. "I was trying to be repulsive."

He thought a look of pity momentarily crossed Uneren’s face, and decided to change the subject quickly. "Anyhow, I’d love to hear your thoughts on Ariel."

"Ah, the lovely Ariel." Legolas looked up sharply, and saw the barely hidden amusement in her eyes. They both exchanged wry grins before Uneren gestured towards the hallway. "It’s time for the feast to start."

Wonderful.

"And who am I seated next to?" he asked, adjusting his linen tunic and following her down the staircase.

"Between Ariel and Dolenhis."

Excellent. As it so happened, Dolly was one of the few girls in Mirkwood that he hadn’t dated, primarily because she was bloody irritating. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Actually, a vacuous airhead and a complete twa...

"Prince Legolas!"

"Legolas!"

"We hope you are well, Prince Legolas!"

"All hail the Prince!"

"Hi. Hello. Hey there," he added, shaking the hand of a swooning dark-haired Elf, and looking frantically around for his seat.

The dining hall was luminous, with hundreds of fireflies humming pleasantly around each table. A definite green theme was in evidence, and the presence of the stately trees at each corner relaxed Legolas somewhat. He finally made his way to the top table, and noticed something very...wrong.

"Where is my father?"

Uneren looked puzzled, and he inhaled sharply. This was extremely, well, unexpected. Unexpected guests, his father not at the feast...a small surge of adrenaline rose in Legolas’ chest. It surged right away again when Thranduil entered the hall. He sighed, and sat down, bowing first to Ariel then to Dolly.

Thranduil then did another unexpected thing. It should probably be noted that at this point many unexpected things began to happen, one after the other, so I shan’t keep mentioning just how unexpected they were. Suffice it to say that the word unexpected didn’t begin to cover what happened next.

Rapping his goblet with a spoon, the melodious voices stilled, and all eyes rested upon Thranduil.

"I have news for all who dwell in Mirkwood. Today has seen important visitors, and the arrival of something precious beyond compare. Am afraid I shall have to bid you all goodnight, for my son and I have business to attend to."

At this there was a communal groan, and to his horror Legolas felt Dolly’s foot slide up his leg. He stood up sharply, and despite the gnawing pains in his stomach, moved closer to Thranduil.

"You are right father. We must go. Goodnight, all."

The two Elves left the hall using the backstairs, cheered as they went. As soon as they were out of sight Thranduil turned to his son. "Why did you want to leave so quickly? I haven’t even spoken to you yet..."

The younger Elf waved his hands impatiently, reluctant to relate Dolensis’ flirtations. "Then speak to me now! What has happened? Who’s here?"

Seeing that, for once, he had his son’s complete attention, Thranduil’s face lit up. He smiled mysteriously and opened the door to his study. "The answers to your questions are in here. Follow me."

The answers to your questions are in here? Legolas resisted the urge to hit his father. That smug smile wasn’t helping, either.

Then he saw the glass coffin.

It was sat on top of the old oak table that dominated the centre of the room. Surrounding it were several Elf-maidens, all cloaked in gold, with hoods hiding their faces. The attendants all stepped back respectfully as they entered the room. It was a beautiful thing, that coffin. Light refracted in hundreds of directions, sometimes creating cold blue shadows, sometimes hot, orange warmth. As soon as he saw it he knew two things – that this was a magical object, and that he desired, more than anything else, to touch it.
A few more steps and he knew another thing. He was in love.

For inside this coffin, this glacier tomb, was a girl – no, a woman, so fair that the like of her had never graced Mirkwood’s halls. Flaming red hair, creamy, white skin, a face that seemed to contain a child’s innocence...and yet she was unmoving. Dead.

He reached out, but something made him hesitant to touch the surface.

"Is she..."

"Dead?" supplied an unfamiliar voice. It was one of the attendants. "No. Only sleeping. Caruien Moonbeam will sleep for all eternity until the spell is broken by a brave warrior, fair of heart and brave of face...wait, sorry." She cleared her throat and started again. "Brave of heart and fair of face, who dares to travel into the mountains and find the...the...line," she hissed at one of the others.

"Er...I think it’s wizard," said another.

"Right. The wizard."

Legolas couldn’t help himself. "That’s it? The wizard? And then what?"

The attendant started talking to the wall. "Well, it’s not my fault!" One of others turned her around so she was facing Legolas. "Oh. Sorry. Whatever, it really isn’t my fault. They didn’t write anything else for me to say. I was just told to go round all the kingdoms until we found someone stup...I mean, brave enough to go on the quest."

"The quest?" Legolas said, aware that his voice was now embarrassingly high pitched. Thranduil clapped him on the back. Hard.

"That’s where you come in, son. Can’t have you cooped up at home all the time, can we now? I thought, brave of heart, fair of face, that’s you to a tee. And what with the wedding coming up..." He leaned over to whisper in Legolas’ ear. "I know how you hate the weddings. Thought this might be fun."

In that moment, Legolas considered many things. Whether he was really cut out for a quest. Whether he really wanted to miss the wedding. How much he’d miss his friends. How much he supremely hated his life at the moment. How his heart start to beat faster every time he saw Caruien’s face.

He took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Next Chapter – Legolas starts ‘the quest’; we meet his best friend and partner in crime, or lack thereof; and those Mithril Y fronts cause certain problems for our hero.