Title: What is and What May Yet Be 3/? - Strange Companions
Author: Riddick's Succubus
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: R for mild nudity. Will be NC-17 in later chapters
**Author’s Note: unless otherwise stated, all speech is in the Elven language of the Silvan**
After a moment of stunned silence, Lenala closed her mouth and stared at the stranger. Placing her hands on her slender hips, she matched his gaze for a few moments before walking from the pool and crossing to the place she had left her gear when she had arrived.
“See something you like?” without turning she began to dress, her words void of emotion. To those who knew her, the lack of emotion in her voice was a danger sign that she was VERY displeased, but the strange elf did not know her and did not see the warning, not the danger he was now facing.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” spoken slowly, as if unused to the Elven tongue, his words gave clear indication of his interest. Lenala noticed that his voice was deeper than was normal for an elf, rougher and slightly more harsh, more like those of the race of Men. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she realised what it was that had been bothering her about this elf and turned to him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“That is a shame, because you will never have it,” her words held no malice, nor smugness, only truth. “Now, what are you?” she stressed the word as she really was unsure exactly what he was. He was not Elven, though he appeared as such, nor was he of the race of Man, though he had the sound of them. “A half-breed perhaps?” though the thought was distasteful to her, she had learned long ago that such offspring were possible. They had not the immortality of Elves, yet their life spans were far longer than any man, usually reaching up to 2000 years old before death finally claimed them. They usually had the look of an elf, yet something set them apart from those they resembled and they were usually despised by both races.
“It is true that those few like me are seen as abominations by most, though some few are tolerant of us,” he answered hesitantly, as if he had read her thoughts, confirming her guess as to his breeding. “My father was Silvan, from Mirkwood, and my mother one of two daughters of Eldacar,”
“So, you bear royal blood of the kings of Gondor,” the breeding was a surprise, although she understood why he would be unwilling to reveal it. His nod was his only reply, his eyes still fixed on her though she was now fully clothed. She motioned for him to join her as she began constructing a small fire, her mind filled with may questions for the stranger.
********
As soon as small flames appeared within the fire the stranger came forward, laying an armful of sticks beside it and backing off a little way, moving to the other side of the fire and seating himself opposite Lenala.
“I am Lenala. And you are?” she looked up from the fire as she asked, her ice blue eyes fixed on him as she waited for his answer.
“I am Azinar. It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Lenala,”
“Have you eaten Azinar? If not I have some small rations. It is no feast, but the taste is good and it is nutritious…” at first she had thought him trite but she detected no sarcasm in his voice and decided to allow him a small measure of trust, hoping he would not prove her judgement awry. Seeing his eager nod, she guessed it had been a while since he had eaten and handed him two slices of acorn bread, 2 pieces of dried deer meat and a small honey cake. He devoured them hungrily, smiling his thanks. Once he had finished he rose and walked to the pool, filling two water skins and two simple wooden cups that he had retrieved from his meagre pack on his way to the water. Returning to the fire, he handed one of the cups to Lenala and re-took his seat across from her, watching her lazily as she finished her own meal.
“I travel to Rivendell. You are welcome to join me if you so wish. You have no need to fear it or its people, for they are tolerant of all life. If you wish to accompany me, I suggest you try to get a few hours sleep, for rest will be sparse once we depart,” leaving the decision in his hands, she gathered her cloak around her more tightly and lay down on the soft grass, the heat of the fire warming her face and helping to keep the chill at bay. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of her dagger and fell into a light sleep.
********
Rising a few hours later, Lenala made ready to leave, the urgency of the visions she had witnessed spurring her on and allowing her little rest. Azinar joined her, having collected his own mount from the small glade where it had been tethered, an easy silence settling between them as they left the small copse and headed back into the foothills surrounding the Misty Mountains. They travelled fast, feeling little need for conversation, though they did talk in hushed voices during the darkest parts of the night to distract themselves from the biting cold that descended upon them once they left the foothills and began the long trek along the rocky mountain paths. Lenala discovered much about her strange companion as they rode, pieces of information she carefully filed away in case she had need of the knowledge at a later time. His life had been hard and he had grown somewhat bitter during the 1000 or so years he had been living. His mother had died in childbirth, leaving his father to raise a half-breed son that his people despised. While his father had been kind, the Elven children his own age had not and, once he reached the age of 100, he ventured out into the wilds, spending many centuries alone. His father had taught him the language of the Silvan but he’d had little cause to use it for over a century, preferring to spend his time amongst the race of Men. Careful not to reveal his background, he had found an easy truce, allowing the mortals to believe him nothing more than another Mirkwood Elf curious about the world of Men.
Careful not to mention anything of her own origins, Lenala told him of Lorien and of Galadriel. She spoke of the beauty of the woods of Lothlorien and the differences between it and Rivendell. She regaled him with old legends; of the evil Sauron and the ring of power, of the great battle which saw him defeated, of the Valar and the ancient tales of the First Born. A firm friendship grew between them as they travelled onwards, though Lenala found she could not shake the feeling that Azinar was hiding something from her, something which could cause a rift between them at a time later in their lives…
Chapter 4 - Mirkwood
Back to "Lord of the Rings" Fics
Home