Ezellahen

Disclaimer: The characters of this story recognized from Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling/Warner Bros while those from Middle Earth belong to Tolkien. In the future, two very entertaining characters from CLAMP will also be incorporated. This is a work of pure entertainment and we claim no monetary benefit what so ever.


This is a translation of the fanfic “Ezellahen" (Spanish) by Utena-Puchiko-nyu and Angeli Murasaki.


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Ezellahen

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WARNING: This fanfic is set COMPLETELY in an Alternate Universe. There will be M-preg, elves, wizards OOC and much more.

Reading Guide:

-Normal writing: narration

-Dialogue: “Regular dialogue”

-Character thoughts: 'character thoughts' (and sometimes used for word emphasis, etc.)

-Elvish tongue: /"Elvish"/

-Note: Will be notes from the authors

- Translator Notes: these are quite obviously notes from myself, the translator (Lina)

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Chapter 8: Morë

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“Remus!! Sirius!! Frank!!”

The ones in question, which could be found at home because it was the weekend, frowned and walked until reaching the living room, where James Potter was practically hopping on one foot. They found it really strange; since he was returning from Godric’s Hollow (where the catastrophe that took away his family took place) they had been expecting him to come back solemn and depressed at best. This jubilation had them completely perturbed.

“What’s going on, James?”

“Moony! Look at what I have found in my baby’s room, I know this is what my Lily studied!”

Furrowing his brow, the handsome chestnut haired man approached his hyperactive friend and took the manuscripts he held. He opened them and read the first page. His eyes opened as big as saucers and he moved backwards until he reached a seat.

“What…? What’s going on? What is that?”

“Godric Gryffindor…” murmured Remus.

“What…? I don’t understand anything…” grumbled Sirius.

Lupin ignored his friend and raised his gaze to meet that of Potter’s smiling face.

“This is what Lily was translating before…before that?”

“Yes, Moony. That was why she barely even paid us any attention. I have absolutely no clue where she found it, but…” he paused, insecure about how to proceed.

“But what…?” prompted Frank.

“I believe we will find the reason behind Harry’s disappearance inside it.”

A sad smile appeared upon the faces of the three adults. That’s why…their friend had never lost hope, but, to be completely honest…Why did James think that some old manuscripts would lead him to his son?

“Prongs, I don’t think…”

“Dumbledore said it, Paddy,” James cut him off with a serious expression. “That besides the Dark Magic that surrounded Harry’s room, there was another, one that he could not identify but that he was sure was ancient magic. Well, those manuscripts are ancient and…something tells me…I am almost certain that if we can decipher the manuscripts I could have my son back with me.

Sirius could not help smiling upon seeing his friend’s certainty, allowing that long lost hope to regrow in his heart. “Of course my friend. We will figure it out...”

James smiled broadly and turned towards Remus. “Moony, you’re my only hope…because I don’t even know what language that’s written in.”

Remus looked at his friend and then at the manuscripts in his hands, he frowned while he thought them out, unaware of the look of apprehension that came to the rest of the Marauders’ faces. If intelligent Moony didn’t know...? Should they look for extra help...? “I think I know…” he finally said and the other let out a sigh of relief. “If I’m not mistaken this is a very old language, almost forgotten in the Magical World…” he murmured.

“Well...? What is it?” Black asked impatiently.

“If I’m not mistaken it is Quenya, the language of the High Elves.”
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-In Middle Earth…

“Am I mistaken or am I seeing you nervous..?”

Morë dismounted anxiously from his chestnut horse and looked at the man that had become his mentor, his best friend, and almost a grandfather, from the corner of his eye. He sighed. “I can’t help being nervous. I mean…it has been long since I have seen anyone, aside from the people that inhabit the village near to where we lived…and besides, I have never seen an elf before.”

“You have, Morë…”

“But they were not as important as these ones!” He exclaimed, letting out that childish side of him that very few had the privilege to know in times past. Usually, the young man was as tranquil as his mentor. “I mean, didn’t you tell me they were royalty or something along those lines…? A Lord and princes...? You always told me that Rivendell was the dwelling place of one of the most important elves in Middle Earth…Lord Elrond.”

“True, but do not let that intimidate you, Morë. I was under the impression your family was a noble one, back where you are from.”

Morë straightened up on his horse, adopting a serious pose and expression. Gandalf sighed, whenever he mentioned the lad’s family his face transformed into an emotionless mask. It was something that, unfortunately, he had been unable to change in the years he has known him. His pupil’s family had made a permanent mark upon his psyche. “Yes, we frequented people from high society but never someone of such high rank.”

“Then I must insist you calm yourself my lad, once you get to know them you will see that you do not need to be on your toes around them. Besides, I am taking you to take charge of his grandchild’s education, something he treasures more than he would admit. Therefore, you need to try and appear as composed as possible and win his trust. Remember, first impressions are very important…"

Morë agreed solemnly, thinking about how his life will change when he meets Lily and James Potter’s young son.

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-.Rivendell.-
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Morë shifted about on his seat, uncomfortable under the gray-eyed gaze of the Lord of Rivendell, a gaze that seemed capable of seeing his most profound secrets. He was just as his mentor had described him. The half elf projected an aura f greatness and wisdom that not even the great Albus Dumbledore could have hoped to match in his lifetime. It was this fact that was oppressing him a bit, for he had no wish to be judged so, but according to Gandalf, Lord Elrond needed only a glance to know a person’s character.

“I do not know if you wish to speak in my language or yours, Master Morë.” Elrond spoke calmly while he signaled to a member of his staff.

“Whichever you prefer, Lord Elrond. Mithrandir has taken the time to teach me your language and I no longer have difficulties speaking it.”

/“That is good, for I wish my grandson to speak in the mortal’s speech as little as possible.”/

Morë’s violet eyes brightened enthusiastically. /“Then…you have decided to hire me?”/

/“Personally, I approve, Mithrandir has recommended you and I trust him implicitly. But you will still need my sons’ approval. They are Ezellahen’s parents and will have the final say.”/

/“Oh…that’s fine. In regards to your language, I have to inform you that though I find it wonderful, all the spells I know are in my own language…”/

/”I completely understand, I only hope that the majority of…"/

“'Am ‘ere, G’an dad!” cried a voice at the door.

Lord Elrond did everything he could to contain his disappointed groan. His grandson was like this, regardless of his efforts to teach Ezellahen it was inevitable that he would show his rebellious side whenever possible, especially if he was in his parents’ company, for they indulged his every whim.

/“Ezellahen we are not alone.”/ He admonished softly.

Ezellahen smiled when he saw Gandalf and his eyes filled with childish curiosity when he saw a third man in his grandfather’s study. His hair was bluish-black and he had incredible violet eyes. He smiled at Harry kindly and almost nostalgically, as if the child brought pleasant memories from home.

The same eyes…

Aside from his moment of reminiscing, Morë noticed a white ball with ears sitting comfortably on the child’s dark head. The white thing swayed from side to side.

/“Are you the one meant to become my son’s teacher?”/ Elrohir asked in a mother hen sort of attitude. Morë rose from his seat and greeted the new arrivals courteously.

/“If you approve, Master…”/

/ “Oh, I’m Elrohir, the little one is Ezellahen and at the door is my twin, Elladan…”/ He frowned upon seeing his brother’s stupefied expression. “Dan..?”

But Elladan did not hear him, he only had eyes for the wizard as if he was the most amazing thing he had every seen. He’s beautiful…An inexplicable lust rose to overwhelm his whole being. He felt a light blush bloom on his cheeks when he saw those beautiful violet eyes look at him in inquiry, curiosity, and in some other emotion that he couldn’t interpret. Perhaps it was the same emotion he felt reflected in his own eyes.

Lord Elrond furrowed his brow. He knew that look, it was the same look he himself had had when he met his late wife. The look that overtook every elf that meets the one meant to be their partner, the person destined to be theirs and no one else’s, the only being capable of making them happy and give them a family born from love. Needless to say, he was not happy this young man was the one destined for his son…

He sighed, thinking that he should at least give the young man a chance. This could mean that at least one of his sons would settle down and maybe even mature…at least a little.

“Elladan,” he called firmly.

The twin blinked several times, shaking his head to recover from his stupor. Gandalf smiled behind his beard. 'How interesting…'

/ “My apologies, father.”/ He mumbled, not really sure what was wrong with him. He looked at Morë, who shifted nervously under the elf’s intense gaze. / “My name is Elladan and I’m Ezellahen’s other father.”/

/ “I’m Morë, a pleasure to meet you.”/

/ “Morë...? That is en elvish name.”/ Said Elrohir, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, because I was the one to name him thus,” said Gandalf. “You see, my dear pupil arrived at these lands in the same strange manner as the little one.” Gandalf nodded in Ezellahen’s direction, who was completely uninterested in the conversation. Instead, he was running after his dear friend Mokona, begging her to give him some candy. The elves’ faces showed surprise hearing this news. “This is why he is the one most apt to teach the child, because both originate from the same place…”

Elrohir frowned. / “How long ago did he arrive?”/

/ “Around ten years ago.”/ He muttered with a large smile.

/“How did it happen...?”/ Asked Elladan, and for some strange reason, Morë couldn’t help blushing slightly.

/ “I only knew the spell; a friend of mine had discovered some ancient manuscripts which she had translated months before it happened. I practiced it, but I wasn’t sure what it did exactly...”/ He sighed. Everyone present was able to perceive the look of pain that flashed through his beautiful countenance. / “At the time, I had made a very bad decision and when I realized my error, I wished to retract. However, the people around me did not concede to my decision…they tried to kill me. In my desperation, the only thing I could think of was that spell, which I knew was for self transportation…and that is how I arrived here.”/ He smiled.

/ “And it was I whom he first met.”/ Said Gandalf. / “I also gave him a name, since his own was nothing like those that exist in Middle Earth.”/

/ “What is your name?”/ Asked a curious Harry, who carried a Mokona with one hand and had a caramel lolly in the other.

Morë smiled at the child and bent to Ezellahen’s height, stretching out a hand in greeting. The child grasped it with a smile.

“My name is Regulus Black. Mithrandir named me Morë, which means Black.”
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In the Wizarding World…
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“Well, Moony…can you translate it?”

Remus grimaced before looking at his friend.

“It is a difficult language, Prongs. Very little information exists about it…” he sighed at his friend’s look of disappointment. “Why don’t you ask for help from Dumbledore or the Ministry...?”

“No!” He exclaimed. “This is the key to reclaiming my Prongslet. I’m sure of it!” He sighed and sat next to his friend. “Moony, if I ask help from the Ministry or Dumbledore, they will take the manuscripts away from me and I’ll provably never know what’s in them. You are my only hope.” When he saw the indecisive grimace on his friends face, he pulled out all the stops. “You have never said it, but I know you feel like a burden upon us, being the only one without a stable job and therefore not bringing in money for the household.

“James, I…”

“Please, let me finish,” he interrupted. “First of all let me tell you that such thoughts are stupid and in no way are you a burden. However, if you do everything you can to translate these manuscripts you will be paying me for everything I have ever done for you a hundred times over…”

Lupin blinked and then frowned. He was very surprised by the conclusions his friend had arrived at. “I will need every available book on this language and I will need to make use of some of my contacts.” He smiled. “But I’ll do everything I can to translate them, Prongs.”

“Excellent! Thank you, Moony!”
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-. The Kingdom of Gondor.-
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The king watched his sulking husband with an enchanted smile. He approached, hugging him before kissing him. “Why are you acting like this…?” He murmured while giving him butterfly kisses. “You should be happy.”

“I am! I am very happy; it’s a blessing from the Valar.” He exclaimed. “It’s just…if we keep going at this pace we’ll never have any time for ourselves.” He sighed.

Aragorn smiled tenderly, holding Legolas’ blond head to his chest. “We always find time for us, despite my duties as king, yours as consort and the time you dedicate to our sons.” He placed a hand on his husband’s flat abdomen. “This new baby won’t change that, Legolas.”

The future 'mother,' who had just found out he was pregnant with his third child, pouted cutely.

A third child in four years of marriage…almost one a year. Legolas sighed.

“I am sure that the twins will use this to annoy me to distraction.”

“Those two always find something to annoy you about love; the reason is beside the point…” He tried to comfort him.

“Mmmhhh…

To be continued…
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Note: Yep, Regulus has shown up, and if you got the hint, will be joining the Rivendell family. XD His story will be a little sad, but he will be happy from here on.
Poor Leggy, hahaha…he should find himself a hobby…

Translator Notes: Hello guys, yes I am still alive. Sorry about the wait but you know how crazy things can get. Anyways, I’ll try to update at least one a month but plot bunnies of my own have been attacking me lately. Well, enjoy and please excuse any mistakes, I didn’t have time to read through it like I usually do.
-Until next time! =)

Thanks to everyone that Reviewed!

charlie-becks: The differences in grandfather I was asking about comes from the original Spanish wording in the story, I didn't mean Quenya. The differences that I noticed between Sindarin and Quenya come from a Tolkien website that I can't find anymore. Though I have found very good resources at http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Main_Page & http://folk.uib.no/hnohf/
Both of them are great websites if you are curious. ^_^