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b2mem2017-03-07 09:50 am
kayleelupin.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2017-03-07 09:50 am
Tyranny's End, by Kaylee Arafinwiel
B2MeM Prompt: Purple Path (Tyranny)
Format: Ficlet
Genre:
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of torture and death. Nothing graphic, though.
Characters: Thranduil, Legolas, Sauron, OCs
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): In Emma’s and my AU, the Battle of Dagorlad takes place later in the War of the Last Alliance.
Summary: Prince Thranduil did not break. He hopes his son will not either.
T.A. 3019, Mirkwood, Thranduil’s Halls
“What do you mean, to the Morannon?” Thranduil lifted his eyes to stare at his sworn brother and liegeman, sky-blue eyes haunted by the memories of long-years past. “My son comes to the Black Gate? To face that one’s evil on his own doorstep? Are they mad?”
“It is as I said, Thranduil,” Veassen Taldurion said uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other, glancing aside. “Our messengers tell us Prince Legolas marches into Mordor at the shoulder of the Dúnadan and the Host of the West.” He winced, reading the look in Thranduil’s eyes all too well. “Aragorn is not Isildur, gwador-nin. He is not carrying the Enemy’s Ring. He will not betray your trust. Besides, Legolas is a warrior born. He has had the best teachers since he was old enough to hold a bow.”
“Legolas is a hunter, not a warrior.” Thranduil closed his eyes in grief. “I trained him in the arts of hunting and tracking, not killing except in self-defence. He is a child of peace, Veassen. What knows he of war?”
“Plenty, by now, gwador,” Veassen said reluctantly. “But he is alive, and safe—“
Thranduil barked a laugh. There was no humour in it. “Safe, on the doorstep of that one. I know somewhat of that, or have you forgotten? For I was a hunter as well, so very safe…”
Veassen winced, resting his brown-crowned head on Thranduil’s golden one as the friends drifted back into memory together.
S.A. 3436, Mordor
Thranduil rested his head against the unforgiving black stone, eyes closed. The iron collar around his neck and the dirty loincloth were his only adornments, and the chain which bound him to Sauron’s throne. He hated to show signs of weakness, for they made Sauron laugh at him. But after the beating he had just endured, what else could he do?
Oh, he had thought himself so very clever just days before, flitting here and there through the Dark Lord’s camp, striking down yrch and Men of Darkness with his arrows. So clever, he, Thranduil Oropherion. So clever, he never saw the trap coming.
Soon he himself had been caught, like a rabbit, snared for the Dark Lord’s pleasure. His golden hair was matted with blood when at last he was brought before Sauron’s throne, and the Maia master of all he saw before him had stared deep into Thranduil’s soul, making the elf-prince tremble.
He trembled, yes, but he remembered his father and mother and would not break. He drew strength from his family and knowing he was loved. Unfortunately, that had told Sauron who he was, and Sauron had laughed with glee, seeing what a fine prize this little rabbit was, indeed…
The reign of tyranny began.
T.A. 3019, Mirkwood, Thranduil’s Halls
If it hadn’t been for Veassen and his other gwedyr, Thranduil would never have escaped at all. He didn’t like to think of what the sons of Isildur and his elven sworn brothers had been forced to endure, for him.
The tyranny of Sauron was a yoke that even now Thranduil found it difficult to overthrow. For all he had held this wood for many long-years without a Ring, the Maia’s dark whispers still came to him every now and again. The thought of him taking Legolas…poor, innocent Legolas…whatever had Elrond been thinking? Thranduil resolved to kill his Peredhel cousin slowly and painfully when this was all over. See how Elrond liked that.
Suddenly the forest gave a stir, and something inside Thranduil leapt up, causing the King’s eyes to widen. He sprang from his throne, making Veassen tumble away with a cry of dismay. “Thranduil!”
Thranduil whirled around, fear vanishing. Joy crossed his face. “It’s done.”
“What?”
“I cannot hear him any more, Veassen. And my son…my son!”
“Thranduil, have you gone mad?”
“No, Vea-nin. I think, at last, I am finally sane.” Thranduil wept for joy, as Anor moved from behind the clouds.
Peace had come to Middle-earth. Tyranny was ended.
Format: Ficlet
Genre:
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of torture and death. Nothing graphic, though.
Characters: Thranduil, Legolas, Sauron, OCs
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): In Emma’s and my AU, the Battle of Dagorlad takes place later in the War of the Last Alliance.
Summary: Prince Thranduil did not break. He hopes his son will not either.
T.A. 3019, Mirkwood, Thranduil’s Halls
“What do you mean, to the Morannon?” Thranduil lifted his eyes to stare at his sworn brother and liegeman, sky-blue eyes haunted by the memories of long-years past. “My son comes to the Black Gate? To face that one’s evil on his own doorstep? Are they mad?”
“It is as I said, Thranduil,” Veassen Taldurion said uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other, glancing aside. “Our messengers tell us Prince Legolas marches into Mordor at the shoulder of the Dúnadan and the Host of the West.” He winced, reading the look in Thranduil’s eyes all too well. “Aragorn is not Isildur, gwador-nin. He is not carrying the Enemy’s Ring. He will not betray your trust. Besides, Legolas is a warrior born. He has had the best teachers since he was old enough to hold a bow.”
“Legolas is a hunter, not a warrior.” Thranduil closed his eyes in grief. “I trained him in the arts of hunting and tracking, not killing except in self-defence. He is a child of peace, Veassen. What knows he of war?”
“Plenty, by now, gwador,” Veassen said reluctantly. “But he is alive, and safe—“
Thranduil barked a laugh. There was no humour in it. “Safe, on the doorstep of that one. I know somewhat of that, or have you forgotten? For I was a hunter as well, so very safe…”
Veassen winced, resting his brown-crowned head on Thranduil’s golden one as the friends drifted back into memory together.
S.A. 3436, Mordor
Thranduil rested his head against the unforgiving black stone, eyes closed. The iron collar around his neck and the dirty loincloth were his only adornments, and the chain which bound him to Sauron’s throne. He hated to show signs of weakness, for they made Sauron laugh at him. But after the beating he had just endured, what else could he do?
Oh, he had thought himself so very clever just days before, flitting here and there through the Dark Lord’s camp, striking down yrch and Men of Darkness with his arrows. So clever, he, Thranduil Oropherion. So clever, he never saw the trap coming.
Soon he himself had been caught, like a rabbit, snared for the Dark Lord’s pleasure. His golden hair was matted with blood when at last he was brought before Sauron’s throne, and the Maia master of all he saw before him had stared deep into Thranduil’s soul, making the elf-prince tremble.
He trembled, yes, but he remembered his father and mother and would not break. He drew strength from his family and knowing he was loved. Unfortunately, that had told Sauron who he was, and Sauron had laughed with glee, seeing what a fine prize this little rabbit was, indeed…
The reign of tyranny began.
T.A. 3019, Mirkwood, Thranduil’s Halls
If it hadn’t been for Veassen and his other gwedyr, Thranduil would never have escaped at all. He didn’t like to think of what the sons of Isildur and his elven sworn brothers had been forced to endure, for him.
The tyranny of Sauron was a yoke that even now Thranduil found it difficult to overthrow. For all he had held this wood for many long-years without a Ring, the Maia’s dark whispers still came to him every now and again. The thought of him taking Legolas…poor, innocent Legolas…whatever had Elrond been thinking? Thranduil resolved to kill his Peredhel cousin slowly and painfully when this was all over. See how Elrond liked that.
Suddenly the forest gave a stir, and something inside Thranduil leapt up, causing the King’s eyes to widen. He sprang from his throne, making Veassen tumble away with a cry of dismay. “Thranduil!”
Thranduil whirled around, fear vanishing. Joy crossed his face. “It’s done.”
“What?”
“I cannot hear him any more, Veassen. And my son…my son!”
“Thranduil, have you gone mad?”
“No, Vea-nin. I think, at last, I am finally sane.” Thranduil wept for joy, as Anor moved from behind the clouds.
Peace had come to Middle-earth. Tyranny was ended.