Fallen Angel (A Thorin fanfiction)

A sad Fate

Months had passed before the young prince and princess were welcomed into the world. Thranduil had just returned from battle when an elvish maid ran towards him, “My lord it is a prince and princess,” she said breathlessly bowing her head.

A smile formed on his lips and his heart was filled with joy, “Take me to her.” The elven maid bowed and escorted him towards a room; the curtains were drawn back letting suns light in through the window.

He smiled as he entered and saw his wife cradling two sleeping elflings in her arms. He sat beside her on the bed and kissed her forehead, “They are beautiful,” he whispered tears forming in his eyes as he looked at them. Elerrian smiled tiredly as she handed one of the two to him.

He cradled the young prince in his arms and kissed his little hand. The young prince’s eyes opened and he began to cry and move around in his father’s arms, “Legolas that will be your name. You will grow into a fine prince and brother, Mae tollen to the world, Legolas Prince of Mirkwood,” he murmured softly, smiling down at him.

The young prince yawned and closed his eyes once more, his fingers wrapped around his father’s thumb.

“Thranduil….”

He turned to face his wife and asked, “What is wrong?” She shook her head and smiled as she removed the blanket from the young princess, “look.” Thranduil gasped as he caught a glimpse of two delicate wings that were attached to his daughter’s back.

“How can this be,” he whispered softly, looking over to his wife. Elerrian smiled and sighed happily, “She is beautiful. Her name shall be Hyril, Fallen Angel.” Thranduil smiled and kissed her softly, “She is indeed precious. Get some rest now, for you need it. I will come to see you soon.”

Thranduil placed the young prince in her arms and squeezed her hand comfortingly as Elerrian settled down and closed her eyes.

A few years had passed and the young prince and princess were now young children. They were keen about everything in Mirkwood and often spent their time running around the palace.

Legolas had grown into a quite serious child and spent hours by his father’s side asking questions about his crown and about Mirkwood’s people. When he wasn’t with his father he was at the blacksmiths admiring the beauty of the weapons that they fashioned.

Hyril was completely different to Legolas. She not only wondered about life in Mirkwood but life outside their home. Despite the danger she would wander into the forest alone, she was often greeted by dwarves and rangers and spent hours talking endlessly to them about the peoples and places of Middle Earth.

Although she took care to keep her wings hidden, she feared that which she did not understand. Her wings now trailed behind her; the tips of her wings swept the floor wherever she walked. Many elves did not acknowledge her existence, for they feared her difference.

Despite all this Hyril grew up to be sharp of mind and quick with words. Even though young as she was, she had a tremendous skill with weapons much to the envy of her brother.

As weeks passed the orcs became bolder and attacked elves at their posts. Thranduil cursed as he reached for his armour and weapons. Elerrian stood behind him, biting her lip anxiously, “What will happen now?” she asked fearfully.

“I am needed on the battlefield, our kingdom must prevail,” he said turning to face her. He placed his hands against her shoulders and looked at her, “You must keep our children safe.”