Lain needs a fuckton of aloe vera to survive that burn
I’m sitting in my history class going all “OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH”
Laerophen is all SIT DOWN BRO BEFORE YOU SAY A DUMB heheheheh
Tag: laerophen
I can’t stop thinking about Mizim & Gimris secretly having a bed commissioned that’s big enough for Gimli and Legolas to sleep in without the latter having to fold himself up like a swiss army knife, and then when Laerophen’s out and about in Erebor one day he feels a tug on the back of his tunic and he turns around expecting Gimizh but it’s two grown Dwarves with a sliderule and a notebook and they’re like ‘ere mister, do us a favour and lie down a minute would ya (he’s confused but he does it)
OH MY GOD ROFLMAAAAAAAO
I hope you don’t mind that I publish this, because it is SHEER. GENIUS.
What were Legolas, Laerophen, and Laindawar’s relationship w their mom like?
Hi there, Nonnie!
Ooooh, this may be a convoluted answer. Here we go!
Here’s my Aelir tag, so you can get a handle on who she was. I’ll separate this answer out into each of the princes, so you can get the gist of their relationships.
Laindawar
When he was born, Aelir often bundled her eldest child onto her back as she raced through her beloved woods. Laindawar grew to toddlerhood sitting under green eaves beside his mother, or strapped to her as she clambered and danced and leaped through the trees.
Aelir was an odd sort of duck. She was tall, dishevelled, nearly squirrelish in her manner, not very talkative at all. Her eyes spoke more than she did. She was more at home with her trees than in the company of other elves, and Laindawar most definitely absorbed this tendency. He too is a loner more content under the branches. This is not only due to his own natural tendencies, but to those early formative years spent with his mother, alone but for the wind in the leaves and the soft puff of their breath.
As he grew, Laindawar was brought forward into the world of his father: the court, the business of being a crown prince and a political figure. He would retreat to his mother as an escape, for the peace and rest her presence brought.
(Thranduil did likewise, funnily enough. Aelir was a calm, wild haven for them both.)
As Aelir sickened, Laindawar’s resolve to kill all the evil in the forests hardened into something diamond-plated and implacable. He has never given up.
Laerophen
Our awkward giraffe was born several years after his brother, and he was at one glance obviously Thranduil’s child. He had the hair, the eyes, the height! Yet he was in spirit a retiring soul, and preferred the quiet and his own company.
Also, it appeared that he was made mostly of elbows and knees.
It was for Laerophen’s sake that Aelir began to stay longer and more frequently in the palace. It was Thranduil who taught him to read, but it was Aelir who sat with him and listened as he devoured all the books around him and told her about what he had learned in excited piping tones.
She often brought him out of his rooms, just the two of them (three, if Laindawar were willing to take time away from his hunting). Unlike Laindawar and Legolas, Laerophen would walk through the trees by his mother’s side. He would not leap from bough to bough. She would hold his hand.
She taught him the bow, though he did not show any especial gift for it. But he loved the time with his mother, and so he worked diligently at it.
When she left, Laerophen’s world contracted to his rooms once again. The only one who could coax him out was Legolas.
Legolas
Their little green leaf was such a shock. SUCH A SHOCK. Aelir had been sickening for centuries – how was she to know that this was any different? But there it was, she was due another child. Weakened as she was due to the poisoning of the forests, she worried. God, did she worry.
She needn’t have worried, not for him. Legolas was walking before he was crawling, desperate to stand and do everything right now!! NOW!!! He wanted to see everything, know everything, touch everything. He was, unlike her quiet eldest children, noisy. He cried loudly, sang loudly, laughed loudly.
He was effusively affectionate.
Everything in him bubbled over with curiosity and joy.
Aelir brought him into her forests as much as she was able, and strapped him to her back as she had for Laindawar. Unlike his brother, Legolas did not enjoy being confined to such safety. As soon as he was able, he wriggled free to dangle and clamber and run just as his mother did. “Look Naneth! Look at me! Look what I can do!”
He made her laugh helplessly and happily, even as the shadows under her eyes deepened.
She tried to stay for him. She truly did.
So I was telling a friend of mine about your royal family of elves and trying to give her a brief summary of the brothers ended up like this; There’s the awkward warrrior with zero chill, the awkward scholar beanpole, and Legolas who is basically curiosity wrapped in an elf.
PRETTY MUCH. :DDD
Though – Laindawar isn’t awkward, heh – he is a small, graceful, deadly little package. He won’t get blurty or clumsy when he is wrong-footed. He’s more like ‘stares at you like a falcon stares at a mouse.’
After the other anon’s questions about the boys’ relationship to Thranduil, I have to ask: How do Laerophen and Laindawar (really hope I spelled those right!) interact with each other, and with their little bro? I know in Midwinter we see a bit of Laerophen/Legolas interaction, and Legolas’ hero-worship of Laindawar at that age, but it kind of seemed like Laerophen is jealous of his older brother?
Ooooh, I’ve answered this before, but in a really higgedly-piggedly fashion. Check out my Laerophen or my Laindawar tags!
Summarised: Laindawar and Laerophen get on very well with each other. They are both loners, and neither feels the need to press the other for attention or amusement or whatever. Also, they were quite close in age.
We see that Laerophen tried to be as martial and physically adept as Laindawar – not gonna happen, sad tall baby. He still holds a small amount of resignation towards this. He can’t really see that the things he can do are just as impactful. He doesn’t need to be as amazing a warrior as Legolas and Laindawar to do great things. Case in point: Erebor.
(something to note here: I am a middle child. I feel this In My Bones.)
Both Laerophen and Laindawar are incredibly protective of Legolas – and he confuses them a bit. He was an unexpected gift, born centuries after both his brothers. He is just so unlike them in temperament.
Dunno if you’ve been a part of or been intertwined with a family in which there is a massive age gap between siblings, but again, I myself am. There’s a big distance in comradery between the sibs with the age-gap – you can love each other dearly, know all there is to know about each other, but there’s an unavoidable remoteness there. You’re never quite on the same page, even when you’ve reached adulthood. You never quite lose that gap.
Laerophen is astonished and delighted by Legolas, constantly. His younger brother pulls him out of his layers and solitude, makes him a part of a tiny community of two. We see that in Midwinter. Laerophen would be alone more often than not if it weren’t for Legolas. Yet Laerophen cannot be as social as Legolas can, he must retreat at times. He can’t keep up with Legolas’ pace for too long before burning out.
Legolas is also one of the few people who know that Laerophen can be funny.
Laindawar is proud as FUCK of Legolas. His muindor and he share the same spirit of adventure, and also a love of weaponry and combat. Laindawar was probably happier than Legolas was upon the day his younger brother out-shot him at the Autumn revels. He is known to boast of Legolas’ archery in a way he won’t ever speak of his own swordsmanship. But he can’t be as affectionate as Legolas, he cannot be as open with himself. It’s just not his nature.
When Legolas was small, his brothers took it upon themselves to teach him different aspects of the world. Laindawar taught him weaponscraft and woodsmanship, and Laerophen taught him histories and stories.
There we go! Hope that’s interesting!
the question about laerophen and thranduil’s relationship got me wondering about laindawar’s relationship w thranduil too. if you have time, could you go more in depth about that too? you make all your characters so interesting, i love learning everything possible about them
Hi Nonnie! Sure thing – also alskdhgflajhsdgflsajh aaaaah I am so stoked you want to know more, that is just THE LOVELIEST, you are the LOVELIEST <333
OKAY! Laindawar! And Thranduil! Here we go!
So, Laindawar is the oldest. He was close to his grandfather Oropher and grandmother Haedirn (”remote watcher”). He was a young prince when the Greenwood was at the height of its beauty and strength.
He was a slight and short child who fought grown elves with his fists and teeth when he heard even the slightest hint of criticism towards his family. He became a slight and short adult – and the best swordsman in the whole of the Greenwood, a relentless tracker and a stupendous hunter. He was happy, and proud.
Then Dagorlad.
Away marched Oropher,
Haedirn and Thranduil and Laindawar, leaving Laerophen as regent in the Greenwood.
Only Thranduil and Laindawar returned.
Laindawar watched his father go through hell on that terrible day. It is Laindawar, better than either of his brothers, who understands what Thranduil has sacrificed and endured to keep their people safe. He understands why his father chooses the methods and policies he chooses.
He is also eternally, quiveringly, desperately chasing his father’s approval. He has it, of course. But Laindawar chases it regardless: he will be a better warrior, he will keep the forest safe, for that will please his father, he will kill thousands upon thousands of spiders, and perhaps his father will smile.
He doesn’t chase Thranduil’s approval necessarily for the sake of his own ego – Laindawar’s ego is plenty healthy, though it’s always nice to get a boost – but he does chase it for the positive reaction from Thranduil. He wants his father to be less sad and wounded, he wants him to be happy.
What does Laindawar do when faced with a problem?
Thranduil, for his part, has always seen Oropher so clearly in Laindawar’s face. It is a good thing that Laindawar is taciturn and stern of expression, because if he were more animated in his features the resemblance would be agonising. He is absurdly proud of him, loves him to death and beyond. Thranduil TRUSTS Laindawar. He trusts him to know his mind, and to support him. This is no small thing: Thranduil has walls that are MILES HIGH. He is so, soooo guarded. SO GUARDED.
He tries to tell his son this, over and over. He hopes it will cause Laindawar to understand that he loves him regardless, that he is proud of him regardless. That he can relent once in a while, that he can rest.
Laindawar sees these positive signs/reactions as confirmation that what he does can make his sad, bitter, angry father happier, and so redoubles his efforts.
As I’ve said before: LAINDAWAR HAS -3000 CHILL.
Is it okay to ask a question? I’m not sure if you’ve covered this before, but what is Laerophen’s relationship with Thranduil like? In the latest chapter & sneak peek, he seems to respect and love his son, but was he ever confused about how to best take care of him, since elves in general aren’t awkward & Laerophen is. And is he a bit grateful to the dwarves, even if he wouldn’t admit it, for helping his second son come into his own a bit? Because Laerophen seems more confident now than before.
Hey Nonnie! Yes, it is always okay to ask a question 🙂 I am so sorry I am a slacker when it comes to answering promptly. Nggh. Sorry.
Oooh, okay – that’s a new one! Yes, Thranduil finds relating to Laindawar and Legolas much easier than he does to Laerophen. Laindawar is similar to him in spirit, if not quite so wounded in soul. Legolas is open and giving and merry, and is content in the company of others.
Thranduil absolutely loves Laerophen, absolutely is proud of him and respects him, but they’re very different creatures at heart.
Thranduil is reserved by nature and habit, but he is not an introvert like Laerophen. It would have seemed to him that there was two sides to the child: the one that was at ease, the one that was engrossed and excited when he was living in his books and in his own head, and then the one that was stilted and awkward and clumsy around others, the gawky prince in the public eye, the one that blurted things or stood like a scarecrow when he didn’t quite know how to react.
He would have tried to make Laerophen more at ease, bringing him out of the outward business of royalty as much as possible, giving him small opportunities to practice… but children always and forevermore learn best by example. And so Laerophen took on as many of his father’s mannerisms as he could, as a defence mechanism. We see that best when we first meet Laerophen: how stilted and stiff he is, how poor he is at dealing with so many people. He is unnaturally cool at first, and – every so often – he blurts something a little ridiculous. He gets into stupid arguments with Bomfris, he allows Dain to take the lead, to act as though he is older that Laerophen is. He is NOT COMFORTABLE. But he’s trying desperately to put on a veneer of ease and calm and elegance. (it doesn’t work)
Even so, Laerophen is still better at relating to others than Laindawar is. Laindawar retreated to his forest trails and his swordscraft, where Laerophen loved his books and following the path of his inner thoughts. Laerophen has learned to relax a little and be himself more naturally with others, possibly through the unquestioning approval of a scamp of a Dwarf child. He even gathers the courage to speak out against his family on one memorable issue :)))
yes, Laerophen is more confident now! He’s taken his own measure, both as a friend and a defender, and discovered that there is more in him than he realised. It is a good feeling!
Thranduil isn’t grateful to the Dwarves of Erebor yet – not even for standing between his forests and the Orcs of Gundabad and the Northern Wastes. He’s a little preoccupied by the whole ‘LEGOLAS AND WHATTHEWHATTHEWHAT’ situation at this point.
But he is most definitely noticing that his awkward giraffe of a second son is more comfortable in his skin amongst the Dwarves of Erebor than anywhere in his own kingdom. (the scene in the recent sneak-peek confirmed and drove this point home!)
aww the story with little Leg was so cute ! And loved the preview XD I wonder what happened the first time Leg fell and broke something (arm, leg, wathever lol) how he, dad and brothers reacted… I can see Leg once patched up going back to try to break his other arm/leg right off XD
Laindawar: *short, angry and clipped orders, barely covering his panic* QUICK GET ALL THE MEDICINE ON THE ENTIRE PLANET, OUT OF MY WAY, DON’T JUST STAND THERE DO SOMETHING??? HONEG NIN, STAY WITH ME, CAN YOU SPEAK, TALK TO ME, SOMEONE FIX THIS NOW
Laerophen: *moaning, hiding his face in his hands* i knew that was going to happen, I knew it, oh Elbereth.
Thranduil: *patting Legolas’ hair and keeping him still until the healer arrives* you’re being very brave, ionneg. It will feel better soon. Please do not attempt such a thing again: you have frightened us greatly, my dear. It would be best for you to keep both feet upon the ground until you are some years – or centuries – older than you are now.
Legolas: *pouting* Awwwww, but ADAR, it was so much FUN
Sansûkh ch44 Sneak-peek
Hey all. Have some funny. (i hope???)
“Tell me what you have discovered.”
Thranduil was apparently lounging indolently in his chair,
his hands long and graceful where they fell over the carved stone arms.
“Very little, Adar,” Laindawar said with a scowl. “They will
not answer my questions. The sister, Gimris, has nothing positive to say of her
brother at all. And if she who is his sister has naught but scorn to share,
what more can we expect of others? What has our Legolas tied himself to?”
Thranduil’s eyes did not flicker, but his jaw rippled. “I
see.”
“The King has mentioned this Gimli’s skill at arms,”
Thranduil continued, his voice smooth. “That is not small praise in a kingdom
of warriors.”
“His sister tells me he is nothing but muscle-bound idiocy,”
Laindawar said. His fists bunched at his side. “She will not answer any of my very
reasonable questions, and I fear their answers may be terrible. A Dwarf that
will not comb his hair! And a Dwarf of the Line of Durin besides: you know
their curse as well as I. I dread to think what has become of our brother, what
this Gimli will do to him. You know how they are about their treasures…”
Beside him, Laerophen let out a soft snort.
Thranduil tipped his head. “Something to add, ionneg?”
Laerophen started under the sudden attention, and drew
himself up to his full towering, gawky height, shifting between his feet. “Well,
yes… may I speak frankly?”
“I will have nothing less from you, my son,” said Thranduil,
but his gaze softened as he looked upon his secondborn.
“Are you senseless?”
Thranduil’s face, once again, did not change. Laindawar’s
head snapped to his brother, and he glared like a thunderstorm.
“Perhaps you have been manipulated by your long captivity,”
Laindawar began, stiffly.
“I am not captive,
and never was!” Laerophen pinched his nose, and took a deep breath. “I have
lived amongst them. I know them! By
the stars, honeg nin, you attack Gimris with question after question while she works? As though
it is her role in life to answer you? And you wonder why she snaps and growls
and stalks away!”
“Then by all means, enlighten us as to their ways,”
Thranduil said, before Laindwar could explode into furious debate.
“The Lady Gimris is the worst one to ask about her brother,”
Laerophen said, and he launched into motion, stalking across the room and
moving his hands in agitation. “These folk, they mock and tease easily: you
must learn to find the laughter and care under the words. And do not talk of the curse
of the line of Durin in their very halls! You know as well as I do that it has
faded to naught with the stench of dragon and the loss of the Dwarf-ring. Yet
still you would name a Dwarf greedy without ever having met him? I despair that
I thought as you did, once.”
“Who would you suggest we speak to?” Thranduil said, cutting
over the spluttering coming from Laindawar’s direction.
“You would do better to speak to her son, or to Gloin.”
Laerophen then winced. “Well, when you can bear to be in the same room as him,
and he you. Dwalin son of Fundin was his teacher, and the singer Baris
Crystaltongue was his sister’s dearest friend. He has called the Princess Dis ‘aunt’
since his young childhood, I understand. He is dear to her. And most importantly, Mizim, his
mother – she is a calmer soul than her husband, and a wise one. She has spoken
to me of her son, and I deem that Gimli is a fit match for our brother.”
“A mother’s love may distort many a vice into a virtue,” Laindawar
retorted.
“You in your wisdom just told me that his own sister thought him a covetous thug: I would not trust my insight,
if I were you,” Laerophen snapped.
“Peace, my sons,” Thranduil said, and he leaned forward.
“Tell me what his mother said.”
Laerophen gave Laindawar a last cross glare, before he
turned back to his father. “He is honest to a fault – often honest beyond the
bounds of politeness,” he said. “He is brave, foolhardily so. He has a poet’s tongue,
and loves to sing. He is gracious in both victory and defeat, though he is not
overfond of losing – I understand he is fiercely competitive. His sense of
humour tends to wordplay and jesting. And lastly, he is loyal beyond all sense.”
“Is he a fair warrior?” Laindawar demanded. His face was
still mottled, his eyes flashing with resentment.
“He’s only the best warrior
since Dwalin, dumbface,” came a small mutter from the door. It would have been
inaudible to any but Elven ears.
Laerophen froze, his mouth hanging ajar.
“Who spies upon us?” Laindawar said, and he reached for his
sword hanging at his side.
“Oh, Elbereth.” Laerophen closed his eyes for a moment. “Gimizh?”
There was a tiny squeak, and some shuffling from beyond the
heavy door.
Thranduil stood in a flowing movement, crossing to the door
with his robes sweeping behind him. He flung it open, and stared down with icy
eyes. “Who is this?”
“Gimizh, what are you doing here?” Laerophen said wearily.
“Cleaning the doorknob,” Gimizh said, his small face
defiant.
“An untruth,” Thranduil said, his voice low and silky.
“Your small shadow reappears,” Laindawar remarked to
Laerophen, who shook his head.
“Were you looking for me?”
“I was cleaning the doorknob, and if a fellow overhears
fings when he’s cleaning doorknobs, that’s not his fault,” Gimizh said to
Thranduil, crossing his chubby little arms and tipping up his head. “You were
takin’ too long,” he added to Laerophen. “There’s cake tonight: Barur’s started
the pastry ovens again at last!”
“That sounds like a fine adventure, but you should not
eavesdrop on private conversations,” Laerophen said, crossing to Gimizh and
dropping to his haunches to put a gentle hand upon the Dwarfling’s shoulder. “Your
mother shall be cross.”
“When is his mother not
cross,” muttered Laindawar.
“You shouldn’t say nasty stuff about people either, but he does it lots,” Gimizh snapped back,
jerking his head towards Laindawar. “First my uncle Gimli, and then my mum!”
“That is true,” Thranduil said. His eyebrow was ever so
slightly lifted, giving him a faintly quizzical air. “Then you should apologise
for eavesdropping, and my son shall apologise for his rudeness.”
“Fine,” Gimizh grumbled. “Sorry for accident’ly listening to
things.”
Laindawar opened and shut his mouth, and then he inclined
his head. “I am sorry for speaking ill of your family.”
“Pfft, you don’t know anything anyway,” Gimizh said, tossing
his head. His curved braids bounced. “S’not your fault you’re so ignant.”
Laerophen frowned, and hazarded a guess. “Ignorant?”
“Means that he doesn’t know anything,” said Gimizh. Innocent
helpfulness oozed from every pore.
“I…” Laindawar began, and then subsided with a sniff.
“Gimli is your uncle,” Thranduil said, the words slow and
measured. “Child, are you close to him?”
Gimizh glanced at Laerophen, who squeezed his arm. “We seek
to learn more of him,” he said. “My brother has become attached to him, you
see, and we would know what manner of person he is.”
Gimizh looked horrified. “Your brother!?”
“No, my other brother,”
Laerophen rushed to say, and Gimizh blew out a massive breath, his shoulders
slumping dramatically.
Laindawar growled. Wordlessly, Thranduil passed him a goblet
of wine.
“Din’t know you had another brother,” Gimizh said. “Can I
come in? The doorknob’s really clean now.”
“I am sure it is,” Thranduil murmured. “In you come, child.”
Gimizh scurried in and clung to Laerophen’s side. As the
Elvenking turned and re-took his seat, the Dwarfling poked a small pink tongue
out at Laindawar.
“Now that is rude,”
Laerophen said, and prodded him gently.
“Then we’re even,” said Gimizh, with lofty dismissal.
Laindawar gripped his wine tightly, and tipped back half the
glass.
Thranduil arranged his robe around his feet, and then
studied Gimizh for a silent second. Then he said once more, “are you close to
your uncle?”
“Yep,” said Gimizh. “Oooh, you’ve got grapes! Can I have
some?”
“Would you please,” Laindawar said, stressing the ‘please’
with biting sarcasm, “tell us of him?”
“He’s big an’ strong and has a fluffy red beard,” Gimizh
said, his eyes darting over to the bowl of grapes upon the table. “I got a doll
of him.”
“Then you love him,” Thranduil said, his head tipping
forward to eye the child intently.
Gimizh only rolled his eyes. His mouth was full as he spoke
next. “He’s my uncle Gimli. He’s the best fighter in the whole mountain, and I’m
not allowed to touch his things while he’s away. He tells good stories.
Sometimes he chases me an’ Wee Thorin an’ Balinith through the Mountain, or
plays hidey with us. I cut my shin on his axe that I accident’ly borrowed one
time, an’ he was a bit mad, but he really wasn’t because Uncle Gimli dun get
mad at me ever. He was only
pretending because he was afraid. Mum does that too. I like his axes, an’ they
were Grandpa’s. Uncle Gimli told me he would give them to me one day. But he also said that I shouldn’t take things
that weren’t mine, an’ that I shouldn’t do everything that pops into my head
without telling anyone. But since he went on a big important Quest without
telling anyone, I think that’s a bit unfair. Adults are like that though.”
“I see,” Thranduil said, and his mouth twitched.
“He still calls me ‘pebble’ sometimes, which isn’t fair
either since I’m a big dwarrow now,” Gimizh said, and shrugged a little. Another grape disappeared with the swipe of a
small slightly-grubby hand. “If he catches you when you’re playing hidey, he blows
raspberries on your tummy to make you laugh. He knows lots of songs, and
sometimes he makes them up on the spot! I’m gonna make up songs too. But Mum
barks at us when I sing any of Uncle Gimli’s mining songs, because they have naughty
things in them sometimes. Da only laughs until he chokes, but then, Da’s a
miner too.”
“You… do? I mean, he is?”
Gimizh nodded importantly – and snatched up a grape. “S’what
Uncle Gimli said to me once. He was a miner back in Ered Luin. I never been to
Ered Luin, and Grandpa says it was hard there. Uncle Gimli doesn’t say much
about it. I reckon it’s good we’re not there anymore, an’ Da can be a
shopkeeper and Uncle Gimli can be a warrior now. I bet he’s killed a billionty
orcs. Is your brother on the quest too??”
“Yes, that is where they met,” Laindawar said.
“Oh.” Gimizh screwed up his face as he chewed, and then
swallowed. “Is he rude?”
“Ah…when it is warranted,” said Thranduil. His eyes were
glassy.
“Mum’s rude to Uncle Gimli all the time, and he’s rude right
back at her,” Gimizh said with a wicked little grin. His hand darted from the
bowl to his pocket. “She calls Uncle Gimli a fathead and a troll, and he calls
her a goblin and a prissy Elf! She’d blister my ears if I ever said that! They’re
brother an’ sister, but I don’t got a brother or sister or sibling. I got Wee
Thorin, but he can knock me on my backside so I don’t call him a fathead. But I
seen Uncle Gimli punch another fellow right in the teeth – wham! Just like
that! – for calling my Mum names. So I don’t think they’re really meaning those
words at all: I think they mean something else. Something nicer.”
“You asked for this,” Laerophen murmured to Thranduil, who
was starting to look a little fixed.
“You’re out of grapes,” added Gimizh.
Aw Yiss 