FanFiction.Net
Just In
Community
Forum
V
More
Soul Wandering by Silver-crowned Valkyrie
Hobbit & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: M, English, Romance & Fantasy, Elvenking Thranduil, Daenerys T., Words: 206k+, Favs: 258, Follows: 278, Published: Jan 27, 2018 Updated: Jun 14
116Chapter 1
Chapter 1
"Please, Khaleesi. I know what you intend. Do not. Do not!"
It was Jorah Mormont, her loyal knight, who begged her not to take another step forward, but Daenerys Targaryen only smiled, as she turned to him. "I must. You do not understand."
"You are my Queen, my sword is yours, but do not ask me to stand aside as you climb on Drogo's pyre. I will not watch you burn!" he went on, urging her to listen to reason and to his plea.
She walked up to him and slowly lifted her hand to his face, looking tenderly into his eyes. He seemed distraught. "Is that what you fear?" She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and then stepped away from him, leaving him to contemplate her words.
Daenerys turned to address her people, and in the end asked for the witch that had robbed her of her child and her husband with her blood magic to be bound to the pyre. Her death would now pay for life.
"You will not hear me scream!" shouted the maegi.
"I will. But it is not your screams I want. Only your life", Daenerys responded in an eerie calmness, never sparing a glance to the woman.
Then a torch was handed to her, and she proceeded to set the pyre ablaze. As the witch started at first to chant in a lilting and shrill voice, only to later turn to crying and shrieking in pain, with the bright flames eating away her flesh, Daenerys began walking unflinchingly towards the pyre. Purpose was in her gaze, and not once did she look back. I must never look back, she reminded herself in her thoughts.
Everyone else backed away in fear, as the fire grew, engulfing now Drogo's dead body. Mirri Maz Duur's screams reached their peak, tearing the silence of the night and mingling with the crackling of the burning wood. The smell of charred flesh now permeated the air, but Daenerys cared not, as she climbed on top of the pyre. There she found the dragon eggs, which she herself had asked to be placed there. The black was beside Drogo's heart; the green beside his head, and the cream-and-gold between his legs. My wedding gifts, she thought. You were not given to me for me to be parted from you, and parted from you I never will be, she swore.
The flames then reached her Drogo, and she crouched beside him, holding him in one final embrace. Ride into the Night Lands, my sun-and-stars. I shall never forget you. I shall love you, always, she promised him. And then the heat grew intense, and an ordinary man would have fainted from the smoke, and his skin would have been scorched and ripped from his bones; but Daenerys Targaryen was anything but ordinary. She was the dragon's daughter, and fire could not harm a dragon.
She had sensed the truth of it long ago, when she was still a mere child, but the brazier had not been hot enough. And the scalding water of her bath never bothered her; on the contrary, it calmed her. She felt safe and protected in the embrace of heat. And now it was no different, only that feeling was much stronger. She felt she was born anew there, from the flames of Drogo's pyre. She felt her blood coursing vividly through her veins. She felt her heritage calling to her with a mighty voice: Daenerys! Blood of the dragon!
She was covered in sweat now and her clothes had burned away. Her gaze was lost into the flickering lights of orange and red that danced before her, and she felt hypnotized, entranced. The flames were so beautiful, the most marvelous sight she had ever beheld. Only now did she feel she truly began to know herself. And the call of her heritage persisted, strong and vibrant in her mind. Blood of the dragon!
And then she sensed stirrings beneath her fingers, where she had crouched above the eggs and Drogo's remains. Only death can pay for life. Something moved inside the gleaming eggs, eager to be born. With wonder and awe she looked at them, as the shells slowly broke. Three tiny heads emerged from the eggs, one black, one green, and one cream-and-gold. And then the newborn creatures crept out of the shells, and Daenerys saw their wings as they unfolded them for the first time, thin membranes that seemed almost transparent to the light. She looked at her dragons more closely. The black one had scales that glimmered red, and the green one had flecks of bronze in it. The third one was lighter, cream-and-gold like its egg had been. They came and curled their tales around her arms, and nudged their noses in her palms. My children, she thought gleefully, and tears of happiness and excitement filled her eyes. I am the mother of dragons.
And then the pyre collapsed about her, burned logs and ashes crashing around her. Engulfed by embers and smoke, her thought was to her newborn dragons. The wings that shall bear me to my destiny. On their wings I will conquer new worlds. She touched them and stroked their necks and tails, but her sight was becoming blurry, and her mind clouded. She felt a strange haze claiming her, and an inexplicable yearning for sleep overwhelmed her. Her eyelids grew heavy, though hard she fought to keep them open. In the end she gave in, and there in the dying cinders of the fire she reclined, surrendering herself unto oblivion.
When, after time unknown, Daenerys came round, all the heat of the fire was gone. As the weariness left her, she blinked a few times, as memories flooded her mind. She had climbed on Drogo's pyre, having taken the eggs with her. The flames had swallowed her, but she was unharmed.
A weak, shrill screech caught her attention, and she turned her head to see her black dragon hatchling staring at her with his wings unfolded. A smile lit her face then, and she brought her fingers to touch his tiny head. He did not object. He must be hungry, she thought with concern.
She tried to straighten her back and stretch her limbs, feeling a little sore from the many hours she had spent in that bent and crouched position. And then for the first time she raised her face and took in her surroundings. To her great surprise, the vastness of the desert was gone. There were only trees around her, tall and ancient, with strong, dark barks and thick foliage. Grass was beneath her naked body, and the remnants of the pyre had disappeared. There was no log or coal to be seen; the only evidence that a fire had burned around her was the soot and dust on her skin and hair. The air smelled not of burned flesh and cinder, but was cool and fragrant with the scent of the forest, earthen and rich with the aromas of wet leaves and herbs.
Where am I? Daenerys wondered with dread. What happened while I slept? What manner of magic has that woman performed with her dying breath? Where is my khalasar? Where is Ser Jorah?
"Ser Jorah?" she called to her faithful knight, but no answer came. "Irri? Jhiqui?" she called her handmaids, but was again met with naught but silence.
A chill came about her then, as the wind blew past her, ruffling her tangled hair, and for the first time she became aware of her nudity. The wind was cold, much too cold for her liking, and she shivered. I must find shelter, she decided, and peered around.
But then in the distance she heard the galloping of many hooves, and they were approaching quickly. An anxious look around revealed to her that a path was actually crossing the forest at a small distance from where she was. But what of the riders? Were they her people? Or were they enemies? Daenerys wished she had at least some piece of clothing to cover herself with. The last thing she wanted now was to invite lustful thoughts in the minds of strange men. Perhaps she could try to hide behind a tree... With that thought she made to stand, but dizziness came to her head, and she dropped to her knees, unsteady and trembling. The baby dragons swarmed around their mother, licking her fingers, begging to be fed, but when the sound of hooves became too loud, frightened they hid behind her back.
Thus found her the riders when they came upon her. It was a party of five, and they were all tall and fair, wearing majestic armor and long, billowing cloaks. To the head of the short column rode the finest of the five. He was the tallest of all and looked regal in his posture, with long, silver-blond hair that reached almost to his hips. His eyes were the hue of icy blue, and reflected the light of the day. A fine silver circlet he wore, and was dressed in the colors of grey and black. His mount was a marvel to behold, and Daenerys had never seen such a beast before, for it was an elk, tall and proud, with huge, strong antlers.
"Daro!" the leader called to the others, and they halted.
His eyes fell upon Daenerys, as she crouched on the ground, covering her nudity with her arms. Slowly she lifted her own gaze and met his, as he dismounted and carefully walked up to her. He was tall, very tall, and a faint glow was about him. She held her breath as he stood before her.
"Man le?" he asked her, in a voice deep and clear. "Pedil edhellen?"
Her silence caused him to study her more closely. He saw that she was completely naked, striving to cover herself. "Fetch me a cloak, Avorthor", he asked of one of his companions, and he complied quickly.
He then approached her a bit more, and she kept looking into his eyes, cautious, but unafraid. She had the strangest eyes he had ever seen, for no elf, man or dwarf had ever been known to have eyes in the color of the iris petals. Her face was young and expressive, with straight eyebrows and full, pouty lips. Her hair struck an impression on him as well, for though it was dirty, he could clearly see it was silver-white, a trait that was not seen in humans, and only very rarely in elves. But her ears were not elven, and she could not understand Sindarin, as he presumed by her lack of an answer to his questions.
"I do not understand…" Daenerys uttered in Westron, thinking to use the common tongue of the Seven Kingdoms, hoping to communicate in some way with that strange man. She noticed his pointed ears and his lithe form, and he reminded her of none she had ever seen before. His hair was shining bright and almost as white as hers, but he was no Targaryen. Daenerys was fairly certain that he was not human either. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously.
"Here, take this and cover yourself", he told her, offering the cloak. She took it with some reluctance, and draped it around her shoulders, feeling now somewhat safer and less exposed. "Do not be afraid. No harm will come to you", he tried to reassure her. "I am Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm", he introduced himself, placing his right hand on his chest and slightly bowing his head as he spoke.
Daenerys thought she caught a name in his flow of words. "Thranduil?" she asked tentatively.
"Thranduil", he nodded, and looked at her with the hint of a smile.
She nodded in return, and, mimicking his gesture, she placed her palm on her chest. "Daenerys".
His grin widened. "Mae l'ovannen, Daenerys".
But then a small, black head protruded from behind her shoulder, and looked at the strange man with glowing eyes. The other two dragonlings moved from behind her back, where they had hidden, and crawled in front of their mother, screeching again with hunger. Thranduil's countenance changed at once, as he beheld the tiny beasts, and he drew back in appalment. "Emlyg!" he hissed, his face now a mask of anger and hatred. The rest of his party reacted similarly, staring at the baby dragons in horror and disgust.
Daenerys looked at the elves fearfully now, and gathered her hatchlings close to her body. They latched onto her arms, and the black one propped himself on her shoulder, but their cries did not cease.
"Seize her", ordered the Elvenking. "She may be a witch, or a servant of the enemy for all we know!"
At once Avorthor and another elf jumped from their horses and grasped Daenerys from her wrists, pulling her to her feet. Their grip was steady and firm, but not violent. They wished not to pain her needlessly. Another elf came then with a sack, with the intent to put the dragons in it.
"Please, do not harm them!" Daenerys begged of him frantically, now on the verge of tears.
The elf halted, and looked to his King for instructions. Thranduil stood rigid, and said, "Remove these foul beasts from my sight. They are born of evil, the spawn of Morgoth himself".
"Ai, hîr nín", the elf obeyed, and with a gloved hand tried to touch the dragonlings. But they resisted, splaying their wings and baring their fangs, screeching aggressively.
"No, stop! You scare them! Leave them be!" Daenerys continued her pleas of agony, but nobody seemed to understand her.
The elf at last managed to grab the pale and the green one, which were smaller. He dropped them in the sack, and made for the black dragon. He caught him at last, snatching him from his mother's shoulder, but not without receiving a bite from him first. Angered, he pushed him to join his brothers inside the sack and tied it tightly.
"What are we to do with them, my lord?" he inquired.
"Keep them, for now, until we discover the reason for their presence. And put this woman on a horse. She will be our captive. I am certain she has much to account for!"
At that he turned on his heel and marched to his elk. Daenerys was in tears by now, mourning the fate of her dragons. She was scared and devastated, stranded in an unknown land, and being taken captive by some otherworldly creatures. Nobody understood a word she said, and she felt so alone and vulnerable again, like she felt when Viserys, her brother, was still alive, and abused her ever so often.
The one Thranduil had called Avorthor then came and bound her hands, and she did not resist. She was mounted upon a horse, and the small company took to the road again.
Thranduil and his riders rode for some hours, until at last they came to the entrance of his Halls. Once or twice during the ride he had glanced at his prisoner, but she had been quiet and sorrowful, with her violet eyes downcast. He paid her little heed.
A bridge was now before them, spanning a great distance over a turbulent river beneath. The make of the bridge caught Daenerys' attention, for she had never seen such art and mastery before. It was built out of the rock and land itself, and intricate silver carvings decorated it on both sides. The paving was of pale blue stone, and there were no protective railings. Flora grew unhindered on both its ends and hang beneath its great arch. Upon that bridge went the elves, and the sprays of the flowing waters was a pleasant feeling to her dehydrated and dry skin.
As soon as they reached the other side the small company dismounted. Daenerys was helped down by Avorthor, and then the steeds were led away by some other elves, who came to greet their King.
"Mae l'ovannen, hîr nín!" he greeted Thranduil cheerfully, and the elf-lord smiled and nodded as he passed the reins of his elk into his hands.
"Take good care of my Celairdir, as you always have", the Elvenking instructed the servant.
"Of course, my lord."
Daenerys watched as Thranduil stroked the animal's head tenderly, and heard him whispering some words to it. The elk shook its head gently, nuzzling its nose against his hand. Is he perhaps communicating with the beast? She wondered.
But then the other elf came, the one who had taken her dragons in a sack. "My lord", he called. "What am I to do with these monsters?"
"Lock them in a cage, Esgaron. Provide them with some water. I need to keep them alive until I learn of the woman's purpose", Thranduil replied.
Daenerys listened closely, trying to make out some pattern in their speech, hoping perhaps to discern some of what they said, but it was hopeless. Their language sounded foreign to her ears, and resembled nothing she had heard before. I must strive to learn that language, if I am to survive here, she told herself.
"And what of the woman? Where are we to put her?" another elf inquired.
"Take her to a cell, but see that first she is clean and fed."
The King then walked forth, towards the great doors of his Halls. A gust of cold wind blew past them, causing his heavy cloak to batter against his calves. He paused for a moment and turned his face to the wind, closing his eyes and relishing the feeling. Daenerys observed his profile: dark, heavy brows above a long, straight nose, deep-set eyes with thick lashes, lips well-defined and slightly downturned at the corners. Fine features, she concluded. And the rest of the King's people possessed chiseled and beautiful features as well. What manner of fey creatures are these? She wondered. At least they are not too hostile, and fortunately were not provoked by my nudity.
The sound of the heavy doors creaking as they opened, steel grinding against stone and chains being dragged and rolled, pulled Daenerys out of her musings. She turned her gaze to the gates, huge pieces of metal decorated with wood carvings and gold inlay after the fashion of the people that inhabited this place.
"Walk", one of the elves guarding her ordered her, and slightly pushed her forward. She understood she had to move then, and they led her inside the gates.
What sight unveiled before her eyes, Daenerys could have never imagined. Vast halls opened before her, built into countless caverns, and interconnected with bridges, high and low, grand and smaller ones. Massive tree-trunks penetrated the roof here and there, as they were integrated to the architecture of the place. Tall and elegant columns rose from the rock itself, and they were all adorned with carvings and engravings. The halls were lit by numerous lanterns, which hung from high branches and arcs. They emanated a soft, golden glow, and it filled the caverns with warmth, but also with dancing shadows on the walls.
When the elf gently pushed her forward again, Daenerys realized she had been holding her breath. "Careful now. Watch your step. We are going below", he told her, but she was oblivious to the meaning of his words.
He took her down a staircase, and then another, and yet a third one. A narrow waterfall then came into view on their right as they went, filling the air with humidity and the noise of the falling waters. Soon rows of cells appeared in front of them, and they were all barred with iron gates.
"Here we are", the elf announced, and unlocked a cell. "You will stay here. Servants will come with fresh water, food and clothing for you."
Daenerys could only look at him with a gaze she was certain seemed stupid to him. But what could she do? She had no idea what was going on. The elf closed the door, barred it again and left. She turned around and looked at her new accommodation. They was a narrow bed in the corner, and a wide barrel, that perhaps served as a bathtub. On the other corner was a small trestle table and a crude stool.
Bringing the cloak tighter about her, she sighed. The air down here was chill and moist, and she did not like it at all. What do they plan to do with me? And if they take me for some kind of enemy, how will I ever prove my innocence, since we cannot communicate at all?
She sat down on the edge of the bed listlessly. Despair began to flood her heart. Is this my fate? To be thrown here and there, a pawn in the hands of the great ones? Will I never be able to carve my own path? She pondered grimly. And what of my dragons? Oh my children! I promised I will never be parted from you, and yet, and yet…
Tears came to her eyes, and she found no reason to hold them back. She was hopeless and exhausted, all her strength drained from her limbs and spirit. And there she sat and wept, until a voice caused her to raise her face and look to the bars of her cell.
"Greetings. I am told your name is Daenerys. I am Luineth. I came to help you bathe and dress."
It was a female elf who had spoken, Daenerys noticed. She was pleasant to look at, with bright blue eyes and hair the color of honey. She was tall and slim, like her male kinsmen, and was wearing a long, olive-green gown and a white apron. In her hands she was holding fresh linen; clothes and sheets, presumably. Daenerys surmised the purpose of her coming, and stood.
Luineth then unlocked the door and stepped inside. She placed the clothing on the bed, and proceeded to call to other servants to come. More elves walked in then, holding buckets of water, a tray of food, as well as blankets. They prepared her bath and her bed, and helped her inside the tub. The water was fresh and cool, and fragrant with herbs and flower petals. The elves scrubbed the ashes and dust off her skin and hair, and washed her clean. Daenerys allowed herself to relax a little in their care, and was reminded of her own maids, Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah. She missed them, if she wished to be frank with herself. If only they were here! She wistfully thought. Then I would have someone to talk to.
After they had dried her body and her hair, Luineth helped her put on the gown she had brought. It was light grey in color, and rather plain and unadorned, but the material was soft, and skillfully woven. A leather vest she gave her to wear on top of the gown, as well as a matching belt, to adjust the length of the hem of the dress to her height, because these were elven clothes, and clearly she was shorter that the elves. The sleeves of the gown were long and dagged, tightening a bit just above the elbow and then opening wide. The neckline was low-cut, but modest, and came a bit loose around her shoulders. It would certainly fit better on a taller, broader woman, Daenerys thought. She tightened the cords of the vest when she put it on, and found that it helped her feel warmer and keep the gown from slipping off her shoulders.
"Very well", Luineth said, as Daenerys was dressed, and she gazed at her, looking pleased with her work. "Now you must rest and eat", she instructed her, pointing over to the tray of food.
Daenerys moved to the table and lowered herself on the stool. There were dried fruits and nuts in a bowl: figs, prunes and apricots, as well as walnuts, almonds, and roast chestnuts. Another plate held a piece of yellow cheese and a generous slice of bread, which was still hot from the oven and smelled delicious. Her meal was completed by a selection of greens: lettuce and spinach and forest radishes and turnips.
"Thank you", she muttered to the elves, and she truly was grateful for the food they offered her.
Luineth smiled. "Eat and rest, Daenerys. And worry not; if you are innocent as you seem, you have nothing to fear. Our King is kind, and the Valar will keep you".
Daenerys nodded, although she had not understood the meaning of Luineth's words. Then the elf-maiden and her friends left, leaving her to enjoy the meal. When she took the first bite, she realized how famished she was. But what of my dragons? Are they feeding them too, or will they leave them to die of starvation? They seem to harbor an aversion for dragons. But why? What are dragons in this world? And what exactly is this strange world I am in?
Such questions troubled her thoughts for the rest of the day, until at last she lay down in the bed, and sleep claimed her.
Translations
Maegi = Sorceress (maybe High Valyrian, certainly of Essosi origin)
Daro! = Halt! (Sindarin)
Man le? = Who are you? (Sindarin)
Pedil edhellen? = Do you speak elvish? (Sindarin)
Mae l'ovannen = Well met (Sindarin)
Emlyg! = Dragons! (Sindarin, sing. Amlug)
Ai, hîr nín = Yes, my lord (Sindarin)
Ch 1 of 42 Next »
Review
Jump:
Share: Email . Facebook . Twitter
Story: Follow Favorite
Author: Follow Favorite
Contrast: Dark . Light
Font: Small . Medium . Large . XL
Twitter . Help . Sign Up . Cookies . Privacy . Terms of Service