Lost Tales from Middle-earth

Birth of Baralinion

Two thousand years ago, in a lush green forest, two elves sat in the shadow of a tree. The tallest and oldest one rose.

His hair was golden, as if the Sun had given him a beam of her shine to crown his head, his garment was silver, as his favorite color, and complex, arabesques ran along his light sleeves and collar, shining bright and clear in the warm light, he had supple boots that were perfect for climbing trees and his blue eyes sparkled, lit with joy and challenge. He addressed the younger one.

"Legolas, when have you not been up for a challenge? I can bet you my crown that you would become the best archer in Middle-earth if you would just let me teach you."

"Ada, I am terrible with a bow and arrow. I will never equal you and I shall forever be useless with it. What is the point?"

"I have watched you try, son, and I have seen that if you only had a good teacher, you could do great things."

"And that is why you brought me in the middle of the forest? To get me a new trainer that will be someone I don't know and that I will hate?"

"I did not know that you did not know me. Let me introduce myself to you then. I am Thranduil, King of Greenwood and father of a very stubborn and lazy Elfling."

"You will train me?"

"Who else would be qualified enough? Rise. I shall teach you."

"Very well."

The young one rose. He was similar to the other in body, but his jaw was softer and he wore a green tunic that matched with the leaves of the forest. The elder one handed him a delicate bow, an intricate pattern of silver leaves running along it, light as a feather yet stronger than iron, and a wooden quiver.

"This bow is beautiful! What is it made of?"

"Long ago it was gifted to me by a very good friend of mine who had helped dwarves in a task. They had repaid her with their precious metal, mithril, and with it she crafted this bow. Afterwards she gifted it to me. All those years, I have kept it, and now I give it to you."

Tears swelled up in the eyes of the young Prince.

"Thank you Ada."

"You are welcome. Now that you have a bow, I believe it is time for you to learn how to use it."

The son of Thranduil awoke and a bitter taste filled his mouth.

The one elleth whom he had loved had been stolen from him by his Adar, and all rejoiced and revered their Love. His once pure and innocent heart turned sour with grief and heartbreak.

When the fellowship left Lothlórien, he no longer could stay with them for his heart lay elsewhere, though he did not know where.

The pain of Legolas was so great that Sauron felt it from afar. He wondered who it could be that felt so much hate and sorrow during these horrid joyful times. He wished to meet this torn Elf to turn him to his side. He had obtained not the one whom he wanted, who he had known well long ago, but instead he now had the son of the loved one he had once thought he could corrupt laid in his palm.

The young Elven Prince did not know that his fate had been sealed to a bitter end the moment he had left the Fellowship.

For days he rode to a place where he was called, but of which did not know the nature. Every passing hour, he hardened his heart, wanting to just stop the pain, slowly turning it to stone. Soon he would feel nothing. Soon he would be free.