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Dust Upon My Pride by Meleth

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Story notes:

Betad by the wonderful Laikwalasse!

The title is from the wondeful poem “The Flask“ by Charles Baudelaire.

Timeline of my story: 2613 of the Third Age (TA),
405 years before the LOTR timeline and 105 years after Celebrian´s departure to Valinor.
Legolas was born 2403 TA and is 210 years old at the beginning of the DumP-Timeline.

Beware of elves singing a Capella.


2613 of the Third Age, On the borders of Imladris

„We have faith in you, Legolas”.

Those were the words ringing in the elf´s ears again and again as he rode between his faithful companions. His trusted white stallion trotted tirelessly beneath him, completely unfazed by his master´s troubles.

Elhael, his second in command was riding in front, eyes and ears always alert and with his right hand resting casually on the pommel of the sword resting on his hip. The rest of the small company of elves was equally uneasy, their eyes drifting from the thick bushes framing the road to the thick branches high above their heads belonging to the mighty trees that stood watchful on either side of them.

Legolas could easily understand their quiet murmurs that drifted on the wind. They told their kin about the traveling elves, where they currently were, where they came from and where they would go. The young prince of Mirkwood wondered if the Imladrian elves would hear them too, and know of their coming long before their actual arrival at the Last Homely House.

„We have faith in you ...“

„Legolas... “ Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and his grip on his horse’s mane tightened.

„Legolas? “ A soft touch on his white knuckles startled the elf from his daydreams and he met worried green and gold-sparkled eyes. Meril retrieved her hand from his, but did not break the eye contact. Her long green dress was bunched up to her knees, revealing the cream-colored leggings underneath, that the she-elf wore out of practicality during traveling.

The Prince smiled reassuringly at her and returned his gaze to the front again, but Meril kept her own horse walking close to his while her hands played nervously with her free-flowing middle-brown hair that shimmered red in the sinking evening sun. Legolas turned back to his thoughts, fully trusting his companions to keep him safe. He was roused a short time later when Cílon, his bodyguard, rode closer to his right side and remarked: “We will be reaching Imladris´ borders in a short while. Shall we make camp here?”

Only receiving a distracted nod, Cílon met Meril´s worried gaze from across their prince for a moment before he urged his horse in a fast canter to ride to the front of the group. His dark blonde hair streamed behind him in shining waves and the sunlight caught on his gold lined vambraces and shoulder guards, making it seem as if the leaf decorations danced across the smooth yet sturdy brown leather. Calling for a halt, the other four elves, Elhael, Hador, Rawon and Hulon immediately slipped off their own horses and prepared to make camp.

Legolas gracefully jumped off his stallion and then helped Meril to slip down.

Three tents were quickly set up, one for the warriors, one for Legolas and one for the elleth.

Firewood was collected, herbs gathered and a rabbit was unfortunate enough to get caught by Rawon´s arrow. While the animal was cooking with a couple of herbs in a pot above the fire, the elves used the rare moment of rest to exchange stories of Imladris and its ruling family.

Lord Elrond, the Peredhel, was said to be a unique mixture of a stern ruler, but a kind and understanding healer and father. Since the capture of his wife and bond-mate Celebrían by Orcs and her following departure to Valinor, he seemed to have become more closed-off. He was rarely smiling and then only in the company of his children. His twin-sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were famed warriors and feared by orcs, goblins and wargs in all of Middle-Earth. Restlessly they pursued their enemies to seek revenge for their tortured mother. But not only their fighting spirit and skills were already legendary for elves that young, but their beauty as well. Both sons and father shared and exotic kind of beauty, granted to them by their mortal blood. Black hair and gray eyes, so similar to those of the Dunedáin. Their bodies were of stronger build then those of their full-elven kin, but still held the same grace and fluidity and not to the least, all three had gathered a vast knowledge of the arts of healing that was said to be unrivaled in all of Arda.

And then there was the Peredhel´s only daughter, Arwen Undomíel, the Evenstar. Elves and Mortals all over Middle-Earth sung of her beauty and kindness. Her radiant presence was said to rival even that of the famous Luthíen. She was loved by the people of Imladris and Lothlórien where she often visited her grand-parents. She was loved by her brothers and father and loved by a wide range of suitors, poets and bards.

But like her brothers, she had never returned pledges of love and admiration. For centuries no one had managed to capture the heart of the fair Evenstar, so that she was now called cold and distant by some. Others rumored her to be romantically involved with her brothers, or even her father, who seemed too protective of her.

Apart from the group of Elves immersed in gossip, Legolas and Elhael remained silent. While one of them was sunken in thoughts again, the other had actually been to the Last Homely House before and kept his mouth tightly shut to keep his amusement to himself.

It would not help the cause, if he remarked that their fair prince was often subject to pretty much the same rumors. His pale, slightly glowing skin, the silver-blonde hair and those big blue eyes had also inspired poets before. Not only his reluctance to take a bride had inspired the loose mouths of Mirkwood’s tattletales.

What a pair the two of them would have made! As if sensing his thoughts, Legolas stood and excused himself to take a short stroll through the surrounding forest. Cílon followed silently. The faithful guardian had observed how his childhood-friend and charge had grown more and more silent with every step they came closer to Imladris. Once when they were but small elflings, the two of them had fantasized about the Half-elven´s realm, about the beauty and peace that could be found there.

They had constructed the wildest dreams of how Glorfindel and the twins would welcome them as fellow warriors, how they would ride out with them to hunt fell beasts and return triumphant, only to be rewarded for their bravery with a kiss from the Evenstar. That had been centuries ago and the reality of their arrival differed greatly.

Mirkwood´s Prince came to a stop a couple of hundred feet from the camp and leaned heavily against the sturdy trunk of an old oak. Cílon kept his distance, so his charge still had the illusion of privacy. After moments of silence, Legolas slowly slid down the tree until he sat at its roots on the forest floor and stretched his long slender legs. He looked up and met his bodyguard´s eyes and Cílon understood it for the invitation it was. Joining his friend on the ground, he folded his legs and softly nudged the other’s shoulder with his own.

A smiled appeared on the silver-blonde´s lips for the first time in days and he leaned sideways against the solid frame of his trusted companion.

“I know you imaged your arrival in Imladris quite differently a century ago, my friend,” Cílon spoke calmly, his voice was deep and smooth like water rushing over stone and immediately smoothed Legolas´ frayed nerves.

“You speak to me as you would to a spooked horse.” he remarked, earning a low chuckle from the other blonde. “Well, my fair friend, you do share a few characteristics with your equine companion.”

At this, the elven prince released a very un-elven like snort through his nose and then proceeded to kick his friend’s ankle, who only laughed louder at this. Soon Legolas joined him with a few chuckles of his own and then leaned against Cílon´s shoulder again.

Cílon noticed the melancholy returning to his prince and slowly took hold of his friend’s right hand, twining their fingers together. Both wood elves held tightly onto the other for several minutes, until Legolas turned to face Cílon,

a familiar inviting look in his eyes that the guard recognized easily and which caused his blood to flow fast toward his groin.

The response was one of uncertainty.

“Are you sure? What of the others? What of ...?”

At that Legolas lifted his other hand, the one not intertwined with Cílons´, and cupped his partner’s cheek tenderly.

“Let me decide whom to love this night...” he breathed and leaned closer.

Cílon leaned into the caress without hesitation and though it pained his heart to think of the possible consequences, he closed the last inch of distance between them and let their lips meet in a tender caress. The gentle kiss soon turned more passionate and when Legolas nibbled on his bottom lip, Cílon readily opened his mouth and their tongues intertwined, all protest forgotten.

The Prince was met with no resistance when he moved his hand to his friend´s shoulder and slowly pushed him down onto the soft forest floor.

When Cílon was effectively pinned, his charge’s soft lips left his own, earning the prince a soft whine of protest that soon changed into a groan as they attached themselves to the guard´s neck right over his pulse point instead. With his left hand the prince caressed Cílon´s flank, slipping only the tips of his fingers underneath his armor and tunic to feel the other´s warm skin while his right hand stayed intertwined with the blonde´s left.

By the time Legolas lips released his friend´s neck a nice red mark had formed.

He smiled silly at the sight, although he knew elven healing would repair the damage before dawn. Strong fingers, calloused by sword and bow, tangled in silver-blonde tresses, pulled their owner down for another wet kiss.

Reluctantly Cílon moved his hand from the silken hair down his companion´s back to press their bodies closer together and Legolas reacted by slipping his knee between the others legs, slowly moving it against the growing hardness he encountered there.

Both of them were warriors through and through and even in their passion they remained alert for possible threats and instead of shedding all layers between them as they wished, hands fumbled with the drawstrings of their leggings. The bodyguard was the first to get the bindings open and eagerly trust his hand inside to firmly grasp his Lord´s heavy sex.

A low wail escaped Legolas through clenched teeth and he trust in the hand gripping and massaging him so skillfully. Only seconds later he accomplished his own goal in freeing the hard erection that protruded from a neat nest of soft, dark blonde curls.

Instead of stroking the soft length though, the Prince pulled back slightly from his companion, to slowly slide down the firm body. Before Cílon had really realized what the younger warrior planned, a hot mouth had already engulfed him almost to the root. His right hand, now unable to resume its former activity, moved now to once again tangle in the silver strands that flowed freely over his thighs and belly and hung like a curtain over his crotch. He could not see but feel Legolas lapping merrily on his rod, only to have the hot wetness engulf his whole length mere moments later.

Gripping his hair tightly in his fist he took control of his Prince´s salacious mouth and began to guide him in his quickening movement up and down his already leaking member. Legolas left hand gripped his guard´s hips and encouraged him to move. Cílon gladly accepted the offer and soon was taking control of his charge so completely that the other could only let him take his pleasure, unable to refuse his friend in his need.

The clever tongue alternatively circled the flushed crown of the rod in his mouth or sneaked over the slit to taste the salty essence. All too soon the bodyguard yanked on the mess he had made of Legolas´ hair and huskily moaned:

“Turn around”.

The young prince immediately let the straining cock fall from his lips with a wet plop and moved to his knees to straddle the other backwards, their hands parted for the first time during their love-making. When the bodyguard was presented with a more then inviting sight of the others equally flushed member, he was not wasting any time.

Legolas resumed his sucking, taking the other´s cock deep down his throat again, while Cílon teasingly licked the dark crown, gathering a drop of clear fluid on his tongue and humming approvingly. The silver-blonde moaned around the cock filling his throat and trust his hips, letting his own erection trail an enticing path along his friend´s frustratingly closed lips.

Showing mercy for his prince, Cílon finally took the length into his mouth, softly suckling on the tip before he relaxed his throat and took it in further. Wet sucking noises were all that was heard for the time being among the otherwise silent trees. The dark blonde was the first to feel his orgasm rapidly approaching and patted Legolas´ bottom twice to warn him.

Ignoring the warning, the Prince only sucked harder and was rewarded only moments later with a mouthful of the bitter liquid that he swallowed completely and even licked off the last free drops, leaving Cílon´s member clean of its release and lying soft against its owner´s thigh. Now that his mouth was free, Legolas´ soft moans resonated around them. Cílon continued his own ministrations eagerly. His hands now both gripped the younger´s buttocks, feeling the firm globes clench underneath the soft fabric. It did not take long until the beautiful creature on top of him threw back his head and gripped onto his upper thighs firmly for purchase, shooting his seed deep down his guardian´s throat.

Both lay gasping for a moment, before Legolas stood and knelt down next to Cílon, meeting him in a sweet kiss that told his guardian more than mere words ever could have done.

When the two companions returned to the camp they where met with an unexpected surprise.

Sitting between the Mirkwood elves and talking animatedly with them in Sindarin was a tall figure clad from head to toe in gray wool. When the wizard spotted the prince and his bodyguard he stood with a grace that betrayed his aged appearance and his long legs carried him in swift strides to the silver-blonde elf which he immediately pulled in a fatherly embrace. His long cloak almost seemed to swallow the prince, save of the top of his head which still peeked above Gandalf´s shoulders.

Even the wizard´s wide brimmed head shadowed the elf´s face so he was almost entirely hidden from sight.

“Fool of an Elf! You should have called for me when your father first came up with that inane plan!”

Instead of answering, Legolas held onto the Istari tightly for a second more, before he raised his eyes to meet the icy blue ones of his trusted friend. Gandalf learned all he needed to know from the forced smile that did not reach the sea-blue eyes in which dejected acceptance and defeat was reflected.

Cílon did not take offense at being ignored and swiftly joined his fellow warriors.

Together they joined the elves sitting in a ring around the fire, sitting close together, as once again the favorite topic of the Wood elves came up: Imladris and its lords.

Gandalf stayed silent and only offered cryptic descriptions when asked something, but mirth was dancing in his eyes. He stayed close to the Prince of Mirkwood, though, sometimes squeezing slumped shoulders and offering his silent support.

Cílon sat on his prince´s other side throughout the night until Legolas departed for his tent alone.

The others quieted down soon after that, and beside an appointed guard and Gandalf, who had declined the offered sleeping place in Legolas´ tent, all elves soon settled down to get a couple of hours of sleep. Hador who was on guard duty had settled into the branches of a nearby beech-tree and sang softly to himself. The song told of a young maiden´s quest to find her true love and was highly popular as of late among the younger elves ofMirkwood. His melodious voice soon had lulled all his companions to deep sleep, for they knew as long as the song drifted through the camp they were safe.

The next morning started early for Legolas and Meril, who was busy helping to make her prince presentable.

The elleth had known the young Thranduilion since birth, had even been his nurse maid for a long time. But her duties grew with him and so she now held the position as his personal servant.

After a thorough bath in a nearby river, Meril loosened his warrior´s braids and combed the still damp platinum-blonde tresses. She gathered them together and braided them at the back of his head so they fell in long shining locks down his back.

Mithril-clips that resembled different kinds of leaves and pins were added and sparkled in the early morning sun. She massaged his skin with fragrant oils that made his skin shine and helped him dress in long-sleeved ornate silver robes that reached to mid-thigh and had a deep V-neckline.

Black knee-high boots with silver decorations and black skin-thigh leggings accentuated his muscled legs. His delicately pointed ears were decorated with thin Mitril-bands and chains that wound around the shell to the tip, sparkling in the light. They were attached through the tiny holes piercing the soft flesh.

Lastly Meril added thin belts of soft black leather and a forest green sash that accentuated his slim hips. These clothes were not comfortable and practical like the uniform of the Mirkwood guard he had worn before nor were they proper like the royal robes he had worn a few times in court before.

These were tailored closely to show off his lean body.

The others kept themselves busy by breaking their camp and loading the horses. Hador, the youngest guard was assigned with preparing Legolas´ white stallion. The noble beast was led down to the river and cleaned and groomed until his fur shone and his mane fell in soft curls down his strong neck. Like all their horses, except those carrying luggage, he wore no tack, but for the heavily-embroidered gray blanket that was now placed on his back to protect his rider´s clothes.

When both horse and master were ready, the company of elves wasted no further time to resume their journey with the gray wizard on his brown mare now in their midst.

Their journey went smoothly and since they had descended from the High Pass of the Misty Mountains they had not encountered any fiends, be it orcs or human bandits.

They were only a few hours from Rivendell now and in no hurry since they were not expected. Soon Hulon, known for his beautiful voice, started singing and it did not take long for the others, including Legolas, to join in.

“We are the dagger cutting through your bonds.
We are the storm that divides the minds.
The bridge over troubled waters.
The land for your landing.”

Gandalf, too, was familiar with this song that had become almost a hymn of the Mirkwood elves, since the songs composer, himself one of the guards of Mirkwood, had died defending his forest while he sung this song. Smiling gently the wizard hummed along.

“We are the word that shuns the lie.
We are the gold that lies inside.
The ax to break your bars.
The force behind your will.
The gale that carries you
and fire that leads you on.”

Their horses, too, knew the song and not few of them started to dance and toss their heads beneath their unfazed riders. Back amongst the trees of their home, the orcs, spiders and wargs knew of this song. They knew that death by the elven warrior´s hands awaited them and more often than not choose to flee.

That close to the Last Homely House there were no enemies, but still curious animals came forth to find out the source of the melodious disturbance in their normally silent forest, for the way the song was sung was unique to the woodland elves. While only one or two elves sang the lyrics, the others hummed, clapped and sang without words, accompanying the words like a singer was accompanied by instruments. Together with the rhythmic pounding of their beast´s hooves, one might hear drums, violins, harps and flutes.

A curious blackbird came forth and settled on the gray pilgrims shoulder to observe the travelers.

“Together we brave the wind,
that bites our fair faces.
Together we ride the storm,
that rends our enemies apart.”

The warriors kept singing even as they descended down the winding path that would lead them to the heart of Imladris, where her Lord and his family resided.

A few pebbles came loose beneath the elven steeds hooves but the fair beasts carried their riders safely down the path which no human-bred horse could have managed to tread with such grace.

Their way led them past small houses that were surrounded with small gardens in full bloom and delicately carved or forged fences.

The residents of the valley noticed the traveler´s song and dropped whatever they were working on to gather before the gate leading to the courtyard to greet the approaching company.

“We sow the wind and reap the storm.
We set all sails and no one dares to cross our path.
Green is our forest that grows,
White is death´s face that laughs.”

The Wood elves could not help but admire the peacefulness and beauty that surrounded them on all sides. Waterfalls of different sizes could be found throughout Imladris and filled the valley with their soft rumbling at all times. The air was fresh and sweet from the fragrance of the multitude of exotic plants. Neat gardens full of radiant flowers could also be seen everywhere, interrupted only by paths of white sand so that one need not step into the flowers to cross. Of course, the warriors also noted that beauty of Imladris stemming from its residents clad in colorful garbs of fine quality. They examined the heavily armed soldiers curiosly, but open-minded.

“We sing our songs, louder than allowed.”

Not only his citizens, but also the Lord Elrond and his children had not missed the spectacle and now stood on the steps leading from the courtyard to the main entrance of the Peredhel´s house and were intrigued by the visitors of the distant Elven realm. They radiated an exotic beauty that caught the eyes of all Noldor, even though only their keen eyes were visible through the armor they wore.

A dark hood covered their hair, and a piece of cloth was wrapped over their mouths and noses and as they neared the sharp eyes of the elves made out grim mouths baring giant teeth painted on the cloth.

Long-sleeved black or dark green tunics and leggings were worn beneath brown leather chest-plates, forehead-protectors, vambraces and shoulder guards that were cut on such a way that they resembled the rough bark of old oaks or beeches.

They were also only sparingly embroidered with thin golden lines running over the leather, unlike the Noldo´s armor which consisted mostly of shining metal and was richly decorated. Their cloaks were of a dark green and when they moved, one could see that were sewn together from hundreds of tiny pieces of rough fabric that were formed like leaves rustling in the wind.

Elrond immediately know, that no enemies eye would be able to detect these formidable warriors should they choose to hide amongst the trees of their home forest, while his sons and daughter simply admired the display of foreign culture. Indeed those Silvan did look ready to confirm the old saying that described the woodland elves as “more dangerous”. They would have to see if the “less wise” would prove true also.

“We are the ship, that glides through the waves.
We are the lightning, that rides the thunder.
The string for your bow.
The shine on your blade.”

Only when the fearsome soldiers of Mirkwood parted and fanned out did the elves see what they had until now kept hidden in their midst. The familiar figure of Mithrandir on his brown mare rode next to what must have been one of the Valar come directly from Valinor to grace them with his beauty.

“We are the vision, walking new paths.
We are the plow, preparing the fields.
The courage leading you to your dreams.
The salt in your tears.
The wrath, that guides you.
The friend, that opposes you.
We sing our songs, louder than allowed.”

Only when the group had finished their song and the fair creature dismounted gracefully and walked up to Elrond to bow down low, did Imladris´ ruler recognize that it was indeed an elf standing before him, although an exceptionally handsome one. The soft gasp that escaped his daughter on his right and the identical sighs of his twin sons from his other side told him, that he was not the only one captured by the appearance of the young Silvan.

“Mae govannen, Lord Elrond Eärendillion.”

The other elves in the fair one´s company choose that moment to dismount also and pushed back their hoods and lowered the shawls, thus baring their faces as courtesy dictated.

The thus revealed faces proved fey and with an untamed wildness among them, accentuated by their brightly colored hair in different shades of red, brown an blonde.

Only when Elrond answered “Mae govannen.” did the young elf before him look up with kingfisher-blue eyes and stood up straight. He held up his hand to one of the warriors and was given a scroll bearing the seal of the royal-family of Mirkwood which he then presented to the valley´s Lord, bowing low once again.

“I am Legolas Thranduillion and I come on orders of his majesty King Thranduil.”

The Peredhel´s family´s eyes all widened upon that statement, but none more so than Arwen´s. Her brothers eyes momentarily flickered over to her in what one might have called an interesting mixture of astonishment and envy.

Overcoming his momentary surprise of leaning of his young guest´s identity, the Peredhel moved to take the offered scroll, breaking the wax seal with slender fingers and uncoiling the parchment.

His children moved curiously closer on both of his sides to peer over their father´s shoulder, and only a stern look from him send them back to acting like the adults they were supposed to be.

Grey eyes flew over the paper once, twice, while his right eyebrow rose steadily higher. The rest of his face stayed unreadable, but for those who knew him, even that small reaction spoke of the impact the scroll´s content had made on him.

While Elrond was still reading, Legolas and the greater part of his companions, studied the Evenstar that they now saw before them for the first time. She was indeed fair beyond measure, and even surpassed the famous beauty of her grandmother Lady Galadriel. Raven hair fell in curls down her shoulders and was swiped back behind delicate slightly rounded ears, inherited from her part-mortal heritage. A thin mithril diadem was placed on her forehead, but even the shining clear gem placed in the middle could not outshine her soft gray eyes beneath, which decorated her finely-cut face like marble.

Her body was slender, but still showed more curves than an ordinary elven maid´s would.

The long silken purple dress she wore fit her creamy pale skin perfectly and no healthy male could have resisted the quick glance to her décolleté, which although covered as was proper, still showed the beginning swell of her full breasts and the delicate cleft in between.

Arwen meanwhile studied the youngest Prince of Mirkwood herself. The stories of his beauty were not exaggerated as she had thought of them until now. Indeed the elf still bowing before them had been the subject of frequent discussion and gossip for almost two years in the house of Elrond now, ever since Thranduil began his correspondence with her father.

Elladan and Elrohir´s thoughts were not far off from that of their sister, although theirs were phrased far less innocent and their eyes traveled upward the long slim legs of the forest prince until the powerful thighs were concealed by his short tunic, which did not do much to conceal the slim but firmly muscled body´s contours from interested eyes.

Only Gandalf who had also dismounted and walked up to Elrond, patting Legolas´ shoulder companionably in passing, disrupted the quiet musings of the Peredhel´s family.

“Mae govannen, my old friend!” he called and pulled Elrond into a quick embrace. “Maybe we should discuss matters in private while your guests take a much earned rest for their travels?”

The ruler of Imladris quickly regained his bearings and nodded his consent. He signaled Gandalf and his most trusted friends to follow him and retreated into the house. Reluctantly his children followed while servants rushed forward to relieve the new arrivals of their horses and luggage and lead them to their quarters in the guest-wing.

Legolas was not sure whether to stay or to follow Elrond and Gandalf. When the wizard turned back for a second and shook his head, the Silvan followed a maid to his quarters. Cílon followed dutifully three steps behind, as protocol demanded. Prince and guard reached Legolas´ room and found a homely decorated room. Discovered was a sitting room with comfortable looking armchairs, a couch and a divan and a adjacent bedroom with a huge four-poster bed taking up almost the whole place and a door leading to a private bathroom which contained a bathtub big enough for at least three persons.

All furniture was made of warm wood and big open windows let in the sun as well as the sound of the birds singing in the garden just underneath a small balcony.

On both sides of windows and balcony heavy burgundy drapes waited to be closed, so the room´s occupants could be afforded some privacy from prying eyes.

While Cílon moved to do just that, Legolas threw himself down on the divan, closed his eyes and let a soft sigh escape. To his friend´s eyes it looked like all tension escaped the prince together with the puff of air that flowed between his soft lips. As soon as he had ensured his charge´s peace, Cílon moved over to him to stand above his head. He placed his strong hands on the beautiful elf´s shoulders and started to massage the stiff muscles first softly, then with more strength. Legolas´ lips parted with a groan that resonated from deep within his chest.

“Do not fear, my prince. Mithrandir is here. And when has he ever disappointed our trust in him?“ reassured Cílon and continued his ministrations unhurriedly as his friend moaned his consent and soon relaxed under his guard’s capable hands.


To be continued ...

Chapter end notes:

The song used in this chapter is my own translated and slightly modified version
of the german song "Wir säen den  Wind" by Saltatio Mortis.

Ellon: male elf, Plural: Ellyn,
Elleth: female elf, Plural: Ellith,

Legolas´ company:
Elhael: ("Wise elf"), Warrior of Mirkwood, second in command,
Cílon: ("Renewal"), Legolas bodyguard,
Meril: ("Rose"), Legolas personal attendant,
Hador: ("Thrower of Spears"), Warrior of Mirkwood, youngest warrior,
Rawon: ("Lion"), Warrior of Mirkwood,
Hulon: ("Battle Cry"), Warrior of Mirkwood, great singer,