G is for Galu
Apr. 30th, 2006 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalOkay... so this is the first time I've ever written Thranduil... and goodness I had a difficult time with him! I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go with him... I detest typical evil!Thranduil characterizations... but I didn't want to make him all warm and cuddly either, naturally. And I know the spoken language in Mirkwood is difficult to determine... but I didn't have translations for Silvan Elvish so I went with Sindarin (and the "overtaken" theory). It works better with 'Galu' that way, anyway.
Anyhoo... I hope this turned out all right. Let me know if I butchered the poor little wood elves ;-)
Title: G is for Galu
Fandom: Lord of the Rings (waaaaay pre-The Hobbit)
Rating: G
As if it were not humiliating enough for King Thranduil Oropherion to find himself with a cold, he was devastated to realize his young son had caught it from him. This was part understandable, considering the two had been alone with each other for days now on the cold journey from Rivendell. But that did not make it easier to contend with.
Thranduil glanced down at Legolas, riding his own horse. The young elfling had a good seat and excellent form for one his age. Though his skill was somewhat affected by a barrage of symptoms that he freely displayed, unlike his father. As such, their progress was slower than it should have been. And though Thranduil longed to be back in the comforts of his home, he did not want to seem as though he were rushing them. Legolas seemed miserable enough as it was.
Legolas snapped forward in his seat with a sneeze, followed directly by plenty of coughing. Thranduil silently cleared his own throat before speaking. “Galu.”
Legolas rubbed the handkerchief his father had given him at his nose and looked up curiously. “Adar?” He had never heard the word before, and did not understand its use. “Pardon?”
Thranduil nearly smiled, as he remembered that this was Legolas’ first cold. “It is a blessing, said whenever another elf sneezes.”
“Ah,” Legolas said with a nod. “Thank you.”
They rode onward, sitting elegantly in their saddles through the bumps and bounces of horseback riding over somewhat rocky terrain. While Legolas looked about as the scenery passed them by, Thranduil’s sights were directed straight ahead only. The land was alive, ever-changing, but the changes were too gradual to bother noticing, and he knew the trip so well for all his years. All his energy was invested, instead, upon staying alert to possibly dangers and upon resisting the urges of his cold. As aware as he was of every tree they passed and of every bird stirring the leaves of a tree, he was aware of his malady working against him. He frequently, silently, cleared his throat and inhaled slowly but strongly through his nose as much as he could when it ran. He clenched his teeth tightly and held his breath when compelled to cough or, worse still, sneeze. For as loathe as he was to have anyone know he was sick, he was even more concerned about his son perceiving him to be in a weakened state. And so he even went as far as to muffle an occasional escaped cough into his arm or to pinch the bridge of his nose when he felt a most powerful sneezing coming on.
“Ada, *why* is it customary to bless someone after a sneeze?” Legolas asked so suddenly that Thranduil nearly gave up a sneeze to surprise.
As it was, he had to pinch his nose for nearly one full, torturous minute before he felt able to reply. “Elves rarely fall ill. But it is said that such illness lies within Middle Earth, not with the Valar. Many go as far as to relate it to mortality itself, though it is unusual for an elf to suffer anything even remotely that serious. The blessing is to remind us of where we are from and who we are meant to be.”
“Ah,” Legolas said again with understanding. Then he snapped forward again with another sneeze. He scrubbed his nose with the back of his hand and then drew his blonde hair back from his face with a sweep of his hand. He looked up expectantly to see his father nod towards him.
“Galu, iôn nin.” Legolas beamed and nodded back.
They rode quietly, apart from audible sniffles from the younger elf. Thranduil played out the possibilities of their return in his mind. He greatly desired a rest and knew some herbal tea he should have; Lord Elrond was not the only elf in Middle Earth with some skill in healing. It was, in fact, impossible to live so long with occasional suffering and not pick up something on the subject. But he knew he would be needed immediately in his throne room to discuss matters which had arisen over the last few days, whether they be resolved or unresolved.
Another small, weak, freely-given sneeze rent the silence and Thranduil did a quick assessment of his son’s condition: no worse but certainly no better. “Galu,” he said. Above his responsibilities to himself and above his ruling of Mirkwood, came his concern for his son. He would see Legolas into his bedroom in the underground palace, and would tuck him into bed, had he a choice over his actions. And, as king, he could fathom no reason that he could not make such a decision.
Another sneeze struck, but this time from Thranduil. He had pinched his nose and held his breath. He had even closed his eyes tightly to the urges. But nothing at all had helped this time. And he knew it was not always possible to be helped; such was the nature of a cold. Nonetheless, he hated himself for letting the sneeze out, even though it was half restrained and followed only by a single sniffle.
Legolas looked up, the same young, curious expression on his face as he had had when Thranduil had spoken the unknown word. “Was that a sneeze?” he asked, cocking his head.
Thranduil disliked lying more than he disliked looking ill. “It was, in fact.”
“Then Galu,” Legolas said cheerfully, as though the blessing alone could offer the sort of healing and comfort need.
Though, in a way, perhaps it did. Legolas could understand his current misery first-hand, and yet offered the word with tones of innocent cheerfulness and caring. It made him smile slightly, pleasantly. He looked down at Legolas and gave another nod. “Thank you.”
Anyhoo... I hope this turned out all right. Let me know if I butchered the poor little wood elves ;-)
Title: G is for Galu
Fandom: Lord of the Rings (waaaaay pre-The Hobbit)
Rating: G
As if it were not humiliating enough for King Thranduil Oropherion to find himself with a cold, he was devastated to realize his young son had caught it from him. This was part understandable, considering the two had been alone with each other for days now on the cold journey from Rivendell. But that did not make it easier to contend with.
Thranduil glanced down at Legolas, riding his own horse. The young elfling had a good seat and excellent form for one his age. Though his skill was somewhat affected by a barrage of symptoms that he freely displayed, unlike his father. As such, their progress was slower than it should have been. And though Thranduil longed to be back in the comforts of his home, he did not want to seem as though he were rushing them. Legolas seemed miserable enough as it was.
Legolas snapped forward in his seat with a sneeze, followed directly by plenty of coughing. Thranduil silently cleared his own throat before speaking. “Galu.”
Legolas rubbed the handkerchief his father had given him at his nose and looked up curiously. “Adar?” He had never heard the word before, and did not understand its use. “Pardon?”
Thranduil nearly smiled, as he remembered that this was Legolas’ first cold. “It is a blessing, said whenever another elf sneezes.”
“Ah,” Legolas said with a nod. “Thank you.”
They rode onward, sitting elegantly in their saddles through the bumps and bounces of horseback riding over somewhat rocky terrain. While Legolas looked about as the scenery passed them by, Thranduil’s sights were directed straight ahead only. The land was alive, ever-changing, but the changes were too gradual to bother noticing, and he knew the trip so well for all his years. All his energy was invested, instead, upon staying alert to possibly dangers and upon resisting the urges of his cold. As aware as he was of every tree they passed and of every bird stirring the leaves of a tree, he was aware of his malady working against him. He frequently, silently, cleared his throat and inhaled slowly but strongly through his nose as much as he could when it ran. He clenched his teeth tightly and held his breath when compelled to cough or, worse still, sneeze. For as loathe as he was to have anyone know he was sick, he was even more concerned about his son perceiving him to be in a weakened state. And so he even went as far as to muffle an occasional escaped cough into his arm or to pinch the bridge of his nose when he felt a most powerful sneezing coming on.
“Ada, *why* is it customary to bless someone after a sneeze?” Legolas asked so suddenly that Thranduil nearly gave up a sneeze to surprise.
As it was, he had to pinch his nose for nearly one full, torturous minute before he felt able to reply. “Elves rarely fall ill. But it is said that such illness lies within Middle Earth, not with the Valar. Many go as far as to relate it to mortality itself, though it is unusual for an elf to suffer anything even remotely that serious. The blessing is to remind us of where we are from and who we are meant to be.”
“Ah,” Legolas said again with understanding. Then he snapped forward again with another sneeze. He scrubbed his nose with the back of his hand and then drew his blonde hair back from his face with a sweep of his hand. He looked up expectantly to see his father nod towards him.
“Galu, iôn nin.” Legolas beamed and nodded back.
They rode quietly, apart from audible sniffles from the younger elf. Thranduil played out the possibilities of their return in his mind. He greatly desired a rest and knew some herbal tea he should have; Lord Elrond was not the only elf in Middle Earth with some skill in healing. It was, in fact, impossible to live so long with occasional suffering and not pick up something on the subject. But he knew he would be needed immediately in his throne room to discuss matters which had arisen over the last few days, whether they be resolved or unresolved.
Another small, weak, freely-given sneeze rent the silence and Thranduil did a quick assessment of his son’s condition: no worse but certainly no better. “Galu,” he said. Above his responsibilities to himself and above his ruling of Mirkwood, came his concern for his son. He would see Legolas into his bedroom in the underground palace, and would tuck him into bed, had he a choice over his actions. And, as king, he could fathom no reason that he could not make such a decision.
Another sneeze struck, but this time from Thranduil. He had pinched his nose and held his breath. He had even closed his eyes tightly to the urges. But nothing at all had helped this time. And he knew it was not always possible to be helped; such was the nature of a cold. Nonetheless, he hated himself for letting the sneeze out, even though it was half restrained and followed only by a single sniffle.
Legolas looked up, the same young, curious expression on his face as he had had when Thranduil had spoken the unknown word. “Was that a sneeze?” he asked, cocking his head.
Thranduil disliked lying more than he disliked looking ill. “It was, in fact.”
“Then Galu,” Legolas said cheerfully, as though the blessing alone could offer the sort of healing and comfort need.
Though, in a way, perhaps it did. Legolas could understand his current misery first-hand, and yet offered the word with tones of innocent cheerfulness and caring. It made him smile slightly, pleasantly. He looked down at Legolas and gave another nod. “Thank you.”
no subject
Date: 2006-04-30 10:48 pm (UTC)I like your Thranduil very much. I see nothing in your portrayal of him that would seem to go against what little we know about him, so you're fine, canon-wise. Playing strong and stoic is SO him, and the Legolas in your fics is going to grow up with that same stubborn proud streak, which is so appropriate. And I love how he knows when to be a father first and a King second.
Canon-whore time: Greenleaf is a direct translation of Legolas's name. It has nothing to do with Thranduil, and it's not a surname. If you want a longer title to call Thranduil, you can call him Thranduil Oropherion (Thranduil, son of Oropher), just as Legolas is Legolas Thranduilion (Legolas, son of Thranduil).
Also, it should be 'Valar', not 'Valor', and 'Middle-earth', not 'Middle Earth', though to be fair, the latter is really nitpicky and doesn't really bother me that much.
Interesting theory on how Elves can fall ill, btw. I get such a thrill reading about sick Legolas that I've gotten very good at forgetting that these things shouldn't happen to elves. I'm glad to have a little piece of justification I can cling to and use to rationalize how post-ROTK Leoglas can come down with a cold seemingly once or twice a year, at least. *G*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-01 12:23 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked the characterizations. I must admit I had my young!Legolas & Haldir WIP in mind while writing it, and I had to keep changing things in order to get it to fit in the same 'verse. So I'm glad nothing felt lost due to my own desires based on a fic that is SO not close to being finished anyway. LOL
But, yes, I'm glad you thought my Thranduil was all right- I was so nervous! I was worried the end might be a little mushy for him... but I have a theory that elves would cherish their time with their children specifically because childhood is SUCH a tiny portion of an elf's life. Elves grow up fast... and stay grown up forever (assuming they aren't killed in battle, etc.) so it makes sense to me that he'd want to look after his Legolas during his first cold above his other duties :-)
Interesting theory on how Elves can fall ill, btw. I get such a thrill reading about sick Legolas that I've gotten very good at forgetting that these things shouldn't happen to elves.
Well, I'm not sure how much of a theory it was... and in my mind the elves in Rivendell are to blame for them coming down ill ;-) But I'm glad you didn't find it too far-fetched. I don't know whether I can say I forget that elves shouldn't be sick... or whether it's the fact that I've honestly never accepted that particular bit of canon (and I probably never will). I can come up with far too many reasons for elves to get sick but don't want everyone else to know so they hide it and claim it doesn't happen to elves (especially since in my mind, illnesses can't kill them). Hey, the same goes for the immortals in Highlander so I don't feel so bad ;-)
I'm glad to have a little piece of justification I can cling to and use to rationalize how post-ROTK Leoglas can come down with a cold seemingly once or twice a year, at least. *G*
At LEAST! Bwa ha ha ha! Hey, you can't go through so much and come out completely unscathed.
Or, hey, maybe it's his punishment for doing the least of all the fellowship?
Thanks again for reading and catching my errors and for reassuring me that I wasn't so far off base. I'm very glad you enjoyed the cute :-)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-01 06:31 pm (UTC)Big Hug,
Deb