Set Fire to the Stars by sian22
Fanwork Notes
This is a story set in my Fourth Age Ithilien universe, and though it is not necessary to have read previous ones a few details might help. It is set in Legolas' settlement of Eryn Ithilien in FA 43 when Theomund, Faramir and Eowyn's youngest son, is 37. Trained as a healer in Minas Tirith and Rivendell, he has a congenital, progressive neuromuscular disease. I wanted to give more representation to disability in Tolkien's world and two previous stories introduce, in part, the challenge he faces to be 'normal'. 'A Quiet Drift of Petals' and 'Welcome to Rivendell' feature him as a child; 'Winter's Balm' shows Theomund and Thalon together much later, at the end of Faramir's life. So in a way you can consider this a prequel to that story. It is very much a slow burn and dance back and forth, but I promise they will figure it out eventually!
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
Théomund, Prince of Ithilien, has spent his life building a strong defense, caging his heart and coping with more challenges than most; always afraid to let another come in too close. Thalon, Legolas’ second-in-command, has seen Ages more, yet he too has resigned himself to being alone. One day, fate brings them together in a way neither can expect. What the fëa wants cannot be denied, yet courage, even for a warrior, is a difficult thing to muster.
Major Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Original Character(s), Original Male Character(s)
Major Relationships:
Artwork Type: No artwork type listed
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slash/Femslash
Challenges:
Rating: Teens
Warnings: Sexual Content (Mild)
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 344 Posted on 8 April 2019 Updated on 8 April 2019 This fanwork is a work in progress.
Night's curtain
- Read Night's curtain
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How did I know? It was his hands.
Soft and sure, so exquisitely gentle even as they without ceremony dosed me as one would a gwinig. I should have been embarrassed, sensitive to a foreign touch, but I was not. Pain was a white hot brand and all was dark and in the darkness the only light was the soothing of that touch.
I was dying.
I knew it even as the first of the seizures took hold: I lying, still and silent in my prince’s arms, each pound of hoof on turf a white hot agony. My heart cried out in anguish. We had waded through so much blood, so many battles, that to fall now to a haphazard skirmish in Morgul Vale-- it seemed cruel. I had stayed. Though Amron had fallen, I had stayed. For my brother-in-law and for my father-King. For the people I considered my own though I was not one of them, Noldo as I am.
Now, prisoner of a failing body, my senses dimmed. The pain lanced each time a seizure gripped, each time my limbs bucked and flailed like a fish gasping on the shore. Soon there was no sound, no sight. Legolas’ anxious voice pleaded with me to stay, hold fast to his strength and warmth, but it too faded step by step-- until there was only darkness and that touch.
Perhaps I screamed. I must have when the wound was cleansed; when the burning ichor of the poison was dragged out and a salve shoved into the wound. But again there came that touch. A fëa so beautiful, so gentle and golden, it was a treasure. How sad to know it there when all was darkening. Millenia I had been alone, my mate lost and never expecting to know that joy again, or desire or true touch.
Perhaps at the end of things this was a boon. A bitterness that was also sweet. I would know such beauty all too briefly before I walked Lord Namo’s halls.
I let the hazy pain take me down.
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