Sanctuary
OIOIO
Warning: Yes this is an m-preg, as in male pregnancy. I know anatomically it is impossible in the real world but I like the idea (mainly for the Legolas suffering that goes with it). Please, if you are dead set against this kind of thing then don't read then complain that you weren't warned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created. Promise.
OIOI
Chapter 1 ~ The Place I Call Home
OIOI
"Just a few more leagues, mellon nin, I promise," Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, urged his exhausted steed onwards through the night. He could no longer recall how many nights they had travelled like this. At first he had stopped his horse at dusk, allowing the faithful stallion to rest at night, even if his master could not. But in the past few nights, as they had neared their intended destination, a kind of fevered desperation took over the Elf and all he could think about was the possible safety and security of what he had always considered to be his true home. His steed, although exhausted from the relentless pace, carried on, wanting onto to convey his master to safety.
In truth, Legolas himself was starting to tire and feel the effects of too long without rest and yet he pushed onwards.
Their pace couldn't be maintained forever though and even his strong Elven war horse had had too much and he stumbled, very nearly sending his rider flying forwards. Legolas managed to catch himself and kept on the horse's back but this was further evidence that they simply couldn't keep this up so he patted the neck of his faithful steed.
"All right, mellon nin. Time to rest, I think." Stifling a groan, Legolas slowly and carefully slid off the horse's back and planted his feet on the ground for the first time in days. He felt surprisingly shaky as he led the horse over to the river to drink.
After drinking down a little cool, fresh water, Legolas moved to sit under a near-by tree and leaned back against its broad trunk. He watched as his mount turned from the water and started grazing on the riverbank, trying to regain enough energy to complete the journey. Legolas himself did nothing but watch. He couldn't remember the last time he had properly eaten anything. Other than a few berries he had managed to pick off the winter-destroyed bushes he had eaten very little. He carried no supplies and simply couldn't summon up the energy to go hunting. At the moment, though, the mere thought of food made his stomach churn ominously and he closed his eyes against the nausea until it passed.
Pulling his thin cloak around him, Legolas shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable. He suddenly felt so cold. Elves shouldn't feel the cold but now he was sat still, Legolas found himself shivering. Starting a fire would require that he get up and that really didn't seem like a viable option right then. At the moment, he didn't think he could drag himself to his feet. So he sat there shivering, wishing he had a blanket or thicker cloak. Wishing, however, would not make it so, he thought grimly. Sighing, he tried to shut his mind off. A couple of hours' sleep wouldn't hurt. Minutes later, Legolas opened his eyes when he sensed something heavy fall to the ground beside him. He looked up to find his faithful friend lying right before him, close enough to offer some warmth and protection to his Elven companion.
"Hannon le, mellon nin," Legolas whispered, patting his horse. He closed his eyes again and willed sleep to take him.
The pale light of dawn woke the Prince of Mirkwood. Surely he had managed to rest for more than a couple of hours. Rubbing his hands down his face, Legolas looked around the misty riverbank and could just about make out the lone figure of his horse on the flat grass, grazing. Whistling softly, Legolas called the horse over to him and the now well-rested steed immediately trotted over to him. He bent his neck down and nuzzled his master gently. "All right, mellon nin. Time to go to Rivendell," Legolas smiled weakly, reaching around the horse's strong neck and trying to gain his feet. Lack of proper food, warmth and sleep had left the usually strong prince remarkably weak and he found that he couldn't quite manage it. The horse, who seemed to have grown even closer to his lifelong friend, and almost looked as if he actually understood the prince's predicament as he carefully laid down. Legolas smiled softly and wrapped his hand around the horse's mane before dragging himself onto the horse's back.
Soon enough they were back on the road, riding as hard as they could across the frozen plains. By mid-morning they had covered a considerable distance but their speed came at a price. The pace they had set was nothing short of brutal and both were beginning to feel its effects. Despite the chill in the air and the frozen ground, the proud stallion's coat was wet with sweat and he was breathing hard to catch his breath as his legs pounded as hard as he could manage. On his back, Legolas' head was bowed low and he clutched at the horse's mane to keep from falling. Usually, it would have been no problem for an Elf to keep from toppling even at the fastest speeds – even more unusual as their superior balance meant that they had no need for the conventional tack used by humans – but now, the prince of Mirkwood, a perfectly good horseman under normal circumstances, needed every last bit of the strength he possessed to remain upright.
His sensitive steed was all too aware of his rider's condition and attempted to keep up the fast pace at the same time as keeping the ride as smooth as possible. Suddenly, Legolas sat up straight and his entire body went tense. The horse, recognising the signs from experience skidded to a halt, sensing his master's urgency. As fast as his weakened body allowed, Legolas slipped from the horse's back and managed to stumble to the verge on the roadside before he fell to his hands and knees, vomiting what little food and water he had managed to consume recently. Tears streamed down his face as he retched, even though he should be used to this process by now. This was becoming an all too regular occurrence but he would never get used to this feeling of getting sick. Elves didn't generally get sick, or at least not in the way Men did. They could be killed in battle and be poisoned as Men could and could also die from a broken heart but all these were rare things and on the whole they did not become ill. Had he not been feeling so utterly miserable, Legolas could have laughed at the irony. What he wouldn't give to merely be plagued with a human illness.
Once he felt that there was nothing left inside of him, Legolas lifted one hand from the freezing ground and shakily wiped his mouth on his already dirty sleeve then wiped the tears from his cheeks before sitting up straight. He closed his eyes against the cold winter daylight and willed the world to stop its nauseating spinning. He was just so tired. Already in a bad condition, his body craved proper rest and the odd couple of hours sleeping out in the cold, uncomfortable elements were simply not enough. He wanted – he needed – to get to Imladris. It was his last hope. And it was his overwhelming desire to get there that blinded him to all else, including his own precarious health.
Despite this conviction, Legolas felt coldness creeping through him and his vision started to darken and regardless of his very best attempts to remain conscious, he eventually lost the fight, falling into darkness and toppling over onto his front.
Having seen his master fall forward, the horse pawed at the ground, neighing loudly in an attempt to rouse his beloved companion. Legolas remained unmoved though so the concerned stallion bent his neck down and prodded the prince's arm to provoke a response. Unfortunately, it didn't work. Resorting to drastic action, the horse took Legolas' thin, tattered cloak between his teeth and pulled, hoping movement would disturb his master's sleep. It didn't, however. Finally giving up his attempts to wake the prince, the ever-faithful horse lowered his own exhausted bulk to the ground and kept a wary eye on the road, ensuring no harm came to his incapacitated master as he rested.
When consciousness returned to the prince of Mirkwood it was slowly and painfully. He opened his eyes to discover that it was already late afternoon. He had been out of it for almost four hours. Groaning, he pulled himself up to his knees, rubbing his aching head with trembling fingers. Only then did he note that he was kneeling uncomfortably in a puddle of water and there was more rain pouring from the thundery sky. He was soaked through and covered in mud. Shivering slightly, he shook out his cloak to rid it of some of the gathered water even though it was fairly pointless by now.
At this point, his horse nudged him again and he put his hand quickly to the muddy ground to keep his balance. "All right, I'm coming," the Elf mumbled, unsteadily gaining his feet in the slippery earth. For a moment, he was forced to lean against his steed to keep from falling down again as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Once it had passed, he slowly – and rather awkwardly for one of the Firstborn – mounted his horse. Without needing to be prompted, the newly rested stallion took off at full speed towards Imladris. He could feel the Elf he bore slowly fading away. He couldn't let his kind master and future King of Mirkwood die. Not now.
With rain pounding against his exposed face and the wind whipping around him, Legolas was rather proud of himself for simply staying atop the racing horse. Catching his hood, which had been blown back due to the wind and completely soaking his hair, Legolas pulled it up even though it was useless now. He was cold. Freezing actually. His hands were white, his fingers frozen stiff, entangled in the dripping wet mane they clutched. His face actually ached from being pounded with the driving rain. In truth, he was surprised that there was rain rather than snow for it was certainly cold enough for it. What was more disturbing was that he was beginning to feel so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open.
A couple of times he had closed his eyes without even realising it and only the unnerving sensation of rocking movement of the horse snapped him awake before he fell once more to the ground. He carried onwards though, pushing himself that little bit further. It wasn't like there was anywhere he could pause to rest. There was nowhere that would provide sufficient shelter from the rain. Besides, he couldn't be that much further from Rivendell.
As night fell, Legolas finally saw through the driving rain what he had been aiming for all this time. Imladris. He pulled his horse to a halt and stopped to look down at the kingdom. It had never looked more inviting even though he could only see the dim lights in the distance. It stood at least another days' ride away but at least they were getting close. That realisation brought tears to his eyes but he didn't let them fall even though there was no one around to witness them.
"Come on, mellon nin. Nearly there," Legolas told his steed, patting his soaked neck before nudging him onward.
With Rivendell just hours away now, Legolas found himself newly invigorated and they made excellent time the next day. As they passed over the Rivendell borders, the rain eased ever so slightly and the air became a little warmer. Not wanting to run into any border patrols, Legolas took a little-known back road. It was harder to navigate and the rain was starting to flood them but he had to reach the House of Elrond.
Finally, at nearly two in the morning, they reached the gates to the House. As always, they stood wide open. 'The Last Homely House', that was what Rivendell's Lord and master, Elrond, called it. The huge, beautifully sculpted gates remained wide open, accepting anyone from any race who required or desired sanctuary or simple to visit the place to rest and recover. In the past whenever he had arrived at the gates, Legolas had always felt at home, at peace, but now, after weeks of relentless travelling, he found that he couldn't urge his horse forward into the courtyard. Legolas, the proud and unflappable Prince of Mirkwood, was absolutely terrified of passing through into the House.
It wasn't the actual act that scared him. That was easy enough. No plea or password was required to enter the home of Elrond. He was instead scared of what might happen after he had gotten through the gates and into the House to meet the Lord of the land.
Before the long weeks on the road to Rivendell, he had been constantly searching for a place to stay. He had been to Lake Town as well as other towns and villages around Mirkwood and to various towns of Men but he had been turned away from every place he thought safe. He had been sent away from Lothlorien also, where he had always been warmly welcomed before. Now, in his current state, every one of the places and people he had considered friends and allies had abandoned him.
Rivendell was quite literally his last hope. There was nowhere else. Hence his fear now. If he was turned away from Rivendell he didn't have a clue what he would do next. Already at the point of exhaustion and near starvation, he knew he would never survive on his own.
Fear pulsed through him and caused him to tremble even through his shivers. He had to go forwards; he couldn't just stand there all night long. He had to move at some point. A sob of desperation welled up in his chest but he swallowed it down; he wasn't going to fall apart now, not after he had come so far.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Legolas finally nudged his horse onwards. Sensing his master's tension, the horse took it slowly, walking sedately through the gates and into the stone courtyard. Legolas kept his hooded head bowed, not looking up at the huge and increasingly intimidating house before him. He couldn't bring himself to look at it. It would only make it harder when – or rather if – he was turned away.
When they neared the entrance, Legolas pulled his horse to a stop and a tall Elf wearing a long, dark cloak to keep the rain off and carrying a lantern to light his way, ran from the guardhouse to greet him. Legolas remained on his horse who whinnied protectively when the unknown Elf approached. Legolas smiled slightly in appreciation but patted his neck to keep him in check. The Elf, suitably warned, kept his distance and called above the pounding rain, "Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?"
Legolas cleared his throat nervously and responded, "I come to seek the sanctuary provided by Lord Elrond and the kingdom of Imladris."
He waited anxiously for the response. Usually this was the point where he got turned away. So he was rather surprised when the Elf nodded politely. "Of course, sir. The grooms will take care of your horse if you would care to follow me."
For a moment, Legolas just sat there, not quite knowing what to do next. The other Elf, perhaps tired of standing out in the pouring rain, coughed expectantly and prompted, "Sir, you'll need to dismount first."
"What?"
"So the grooms can take your horse to the stables."
"Oh yes. Right." Gripping the steed's mane, Legolas slipped from the strong back, stumbling slightly when his feet touched the ground. Regaining his balance, the Elf tenderly stroked the horse's mane and softly said, "Thank you, my friend. Go now and rest." He turned to the groom who had approached and said, "Please take good care of him." The groom nodded and led the slightly reluctant steed away towards the dry stables. This was only the second time horse and master had been parted in almost three months.
Now, without his one friend in the world, Legolas felt alone and exposed and the fear began to build in him again. If they threw him from Imladris now he doubted he would be given a chance to retrieve his mount. Panic momentarily seized him and he stood frozen to the spot, oblivious to the tall Elf talking to him and walking towards the house. When the Elf of Imladris realised that the visitor was not following he turned back and frowned.
Returning to the other Elf's side, the young guard laid his hand on the trembling Elf's shoulder and felt the frightened being startle under his touch. "Sir, you need to follow me into the House."
Legolas nodded his head slightly. "Yes." Slowly and with faltering steps, he walked towards the House. Following the guard, Legolas attempted to keep his nerves in check. What happened here, happened. Avoiding entering the House wouldn't get him anywhere. Rational thought drew him onwards and soon he found himself inside the beautiful and blissfully warm and dry entrance hall of the Last Homely House. Legolas could have dropped to the ground right there but he followed the guard to the other side of the entrance hall where they stopped.
"I'm afraid that Lord Elrond is not available to hear your petition tonight but his seneschal, Lord Glorfindel, will be able to hear your plea for sanctuary. Don't be nervous. Lord Glorfindel is fair enough in these matters; he will hear you out and decide appropriately." Legolas nodded; he knew Glorfindel well, having spent a lot of time in Rivendell in the past. Despite this, he was nervous about seeing the Elda again. "I'll go and fetch the seneschal for you. Can I take your cloak in the meantime, sir?" he asked, holding out his hand for the stranger's cloak, which was dripping water onto the white marble floor.
Legolas took a step backwards, trying to avoid slipping on the puddle that had formed on the stone. "No! Thank you."
The guard withdrew his hand, somewhat surprised by the sharp tone.
"Very well. I will only be a minute. Make yourself comfortable." He pointed to a row of seats lining the wall before disappearing through a side door. Legolas looked at the comfortable chairs and desperately wanted to sink down into one of them but then he thought about his dripping wet clothes staining the wood and fabric and decided against it. Besides, he probably wouldn't be able to get up again if he sat down now.
Closing his eyes, Legolas took a moment to savour the warmth and the fact that he now had shelter from the elements. This was the first time – bar the inn he had once managed to purchase a room in – that he had been inside for three months and it felt so good. He opened his eyes lest he fall asleep where he was standing. He realised that his head had dropped so his chin was resting on his chest and he was looking down at the floor. For a fleeting moment, in the warmth and relative safety of the House, he felt like lying down on the hard, cold marble floor and just drifting off to sleep. It may have been hellishly uncomfortable but it would have been a marked improvement on the cold, mostly sodden ground he had come to be familiar with over the past months.
Shaking his head with a small smile, Legolas wiped his hand down his wet face. Growing increasingly concerned that his weak and trembling body wouldn't hold him without support, he made his way cautiously over to the wall and, leaning against it, closed his eyes again, this time to stop the dizziness that assailed him. Unfortunately, that action only served to disorient him more and he found himself swaying slightly and swallowing thickly at the thought of the impending nausea. Why did this have to happen here? Falling hard on his hands and knees, Legolas brought up the water he had managed to consume on his way through Rivendell.
Once his stomach had calmed again and he had finished retching, he sat up straight and leaned back against the wall. Taking some deep breaths, Legolas tried to regain his composure. He was shaking again and it was now entirely out of his control.
Just as he felt his eyes drooping in forced sleep, a door opened to the entrance hall and a cheerful voice chimed out and he snapped into awareness again.
"Well sir, you picked a fine night to arrive. But thankfully, I have a little time to hear your plea tonight if it is quick…" The seneschal of Imladris stopped his greeting abruptly when he saw the hooded and cloaked visitor struggling to pull himself off the floor, using the wall for support. He was failing miserably at it though. "Sir?" Glorfindel asked, stepping across the hall towards the traveller. "Here, let me help you," the blonde Elda offered, taking the stranger's arm and helping him to his feet, not failing to notice the shivering of the being – it could only have been a human – the weakness surrounding him or the mess on the floor.
Legolas followed the seneschal's sharp blue gaze to the floor and beneath his hood a flush of embarrassment crept over his pale cheeks. Clearing his throat, he kept his face carefully hidden, having noticed the couple of guards who had followed the seneschal into the entrance hall but said softly, "Forgive me, my Lord."
Glorfindel looked back up at the traveller and smiled reassuringly, even though the stranger couldn't see it. "There is nothing to forgive. We will get you to a healer and discuss your application in the morning once you have rested."
"No!" Legolas cried out, stepping back from the blonde Elf before him and nearly stumbling in the process. "No, I don't need a healer; just a place to stay." He saw Glorfindel looking at him sceptically. "Please."
"As you wish." Glorfindel took a moment to rake his eyes down the tall being before returning to his customarily polite, cheerful formalities. "Well, welcome to Imladris. You came here to seek official sanctuary, I assume?"
"I do, sir," Legolas answered shakily.
"Good. If you would please follow me we can talk privately in my office." In truth, Glorfindel didn't think the petitioner could remain on his feet too much longer. He was dripping wet, filthy dirty and shivering violently. "We can have your bags brought to us later." Glorfindel glanced around the hall for the traveller's luggage but it was otherwise empty.
"I have no bags, sir," Legolas replied simply.
"I see," Glorfindel muttered curiously. What kind of traveller travelled with absolutely no bags or possessions. He wasn't even carrying a bag. Pushing his curiosity aside for the time being, Glorfindel smiled, "Well, if you would care to follow me we can get started on your application for asylum." Glorfindel walked out the door and led the visitor through the corridors, remembering to keep his striding pace in check. Surprisingly, the seemingly down-trodden visitor had no problem keeping up with him, stubbornly matching his pace.
This particular visitor was certainly strange. Usually within minutes of their arrival people were shamelessly pleading their cases, practically grovelling at Glorfindel's feet to be permitted entrance to the realm. This particular traveller had only spoken the bare minimum and now followed the seneschal in absolute silence. That he hadn't offered a name was not particularly unusual. And yet, as Glorfindel considered it, there was something profoundly familiar about the person but he could not place exactly what it was. It was so frustrating but the traveller didn't seem to be very forthcoming about his identity. No doubt it would all be revealed in time.
Glorfindel glanced over his shoulder to find the visitor trailing obediently behind him. He had not yet lowered his hood so Glorfindel still couldn't see his face. His head was bowed as if he was having to put an extra amount of effort and concentration into where he was placing his feet. His ragged attire suggested that he had lived in the wilds for a long time and he displayed no insignia or finery on his cloak, suggesting he carried no official rank. His entire being screamed of despair and exhaustion and it looked as though he was about to fall to the ground at any moment.
Glorfindel stopped at his office and opened the door for the traveller to enter. "In here," he prompted and the cloaked figure stepped inside. He walked to the centre of the room and waited for Glorfindel to close the door on the guards that had been discreetly following them and who were now waiting outside for the seneschal's protection.
"Right, let's get this paperwork started," Glorfindel stated, striding over to his untidy desk and searching through the drawers. "Please feel free to remove your cloak and take a seat. I realise that it is late but this shouldn't take too long. There are some papers for you to fill out and then myself and Lord Elrond will decide whether you can remain in Imladris and for how long. You will, of course, be given food and shelter tonight regardless of the outcome. And a healer if you require it. Where are those papers?" Glorfindel muttered to himself, shoving a pile of parchment aside.
Whilst Glorfindel was rummaging through his drawers, Legolas remained standing stoically in the centre of the large, warm office barely hearing what the other blonde Elf was speaking about. He was trying very hard to summon up the courage to pull his hood back and reveal his true identity. So far it had all being going so well. He was one step away from a warm bed and a safe place to live. Revealing himself to be Prince of Mirkwood could very well shatter that. His conscience, however, would not allow him to remain hidden, his identity concealed behind a hood.
Taking a deep breath, Legolas reached up with trembling hands and pulled his hood down, revealing pale, tired features. A moment later Glorfindel made a triumphant noise as he finally grasped the asylum application forms he had been searching for and turned to face the silent visitor. When he saw the familiar face of the Prince of Mirkwood he very nearly dropped his newly found papers to the floor.
For a moment he could only stare, open-mouthed at the filthy, dishevelled prince stood before him. No wonder the wanderer had seemed familiar. Legolas had not exactly been a stranger in Rivendell in the past, especially considering his close relationship with Imladris' Lord.
"Legolas!" Glorfindel finally exclaimed, utterly stunned. "Uh…I'm sorry, prince Legolas," he quickly corrected, remembering who he was talking to. "Your Highness, by the Valar. What are you doing here?"
"Mae govannan, Glorfindel," Legolas nodded with a smile.
"Sir, you'll have to forgive me. I didn't realise it was you." Not that it was entirely unexpected that he hadn't immediately recognised the prince. Had Glorfindel not known the face so well he would never have been able to deduce the pitiful figure standing before him held any kind of rank at all, let alone a prince.
"Forgive the secrecy, my Lord," Legolas said softly, bowing his head to avoid Glorfindel's prying eyes.
'My Lord'? Legolas had never addressed him as 'Lord' before. Nor had he ever seen the young Elf so subdued. Standing in Glorfindel's office, Legolas seemed almost frightened. "Usually when you come to Rivendell you're flanked by an escort. Did something happen on the road here? Were you attacked?"
"No."
"Then…what, Your Highness? Did King Thranduil send you?"
Glorfindel could have sworn he saw Legolas flinch at the mention of his father. "In a manner." Legolas finally lifted his head and met Glorfindel's eyes. "My father has banished me from Mirkwood, Captain. I come to Rivendell to plead for sanctuary," he said as strongly as he could given that he had to keep from shivering so hard that his voice cracked.
"Banished? Valar, why?" Legolas' head lowered again and Glorfindel knew that he wasn't going to get an answer just yet. "My Prince, you needn't have come in secret. Had you announced your arrival we could have prepared, received you properly."
"It…It was not appropriate. I didn't want to cause a fuss," he admitted quietly.
"A fuss? Legolas, you're prince of Mirkwood…"
"Don't," Legolas snapped before he could hold his tongue. He was saved from the despair welling up inside of him at offending the one person who could possibly offer him relief when darkness crept onto the edges of his vision. Thankfully, it receded after a moment and he managed to remain on his feet.
He must have swayed quite drastically though as Glorfindel had dropped the application papers on the desk and strode towards the young Elf. He took Legolas' arm to steady him and almost pulled back when he felt how cold the prince was.
"Ai, Legolas, you're freezing," he cried out. "And soaking." He reached up to the clasp on Legolas' dripping cloak in an attempt to remove it but Legolas sharply pulled away and would have tripped had Glorfindel not grabbed him again. "Please, mellon nin, you're shivering."
"Please don't, sir."
Legolas sounded so small and desperate that Glorfindel merely nodded. "All right." He walked over to stand by the door and pulled his own thick cloak off the hook, walking back to Legolas, he carefully draped it over the shaking Elf's shoulders. "There. Come and sit down." He went to lead Legolas to the couch on the far side of the room.
"I…I can't," Legolas told him even as he passively allowed himself to be led.
"Why not?"
"I'm all wet," Legolas explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Legolas, the banished Prince of Mirkwood was freezing cold, barely remaining on his feet and he was concerned about the state of the furniture in a place he had always called his true home? Glorfindel would have laughed had he not been so concerned.
"Don't worry about that. Sit down before you fall down." Slowly, Legolas nodded and lowered himself down to sit on the couch and allowed himself a small sigh of relief. "I'll make you some tea; it'll warm you up a bit."
"You don't have to do that, Captain," Legolas said weakly. "Really."
Glorfindel turned to face him. "Are you sure?" Legolas nodded, averting his eyes again so Glorfindel wouldn't see the fear in them. "Let me fetch Lord Elrond for you."
"No. Please don't. The guard said he wasn't available tonight."
"We're in the middle of trade negotiations with Gondor. They tend to drag on a little," the seneschal explained.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a couple of moments before Legolas quietly, timidly, spoke. "My Lord, I would understand if you chose to turn down my request for asylum." He simply couldn't stand the suspense any longer. It was eating away at him, shredding his already frayed nerves.
To say that Glorfindel was stunned by these words wouldn't anywhere accurately describe it. For a long moment he couldn't even speak. He just stared at Legolas, whose eyes were fixed on the floor, seemingly both pleading and terrified at once. The proud prince was practically quivering under the pressure of his request, seeming to retreat further within himself as though bracing himself for the – seemingly inevitable – rejection.
"Turn it down?" Glorfindel finally stuttered. "Why would I turn it down? Of course you are more than welcome to stay in Rivendell for as long as you like. I know Elrond will agree with me."
Legolas looked up in surprise and Glorfindel was startled to see a tear slip down his pale cheek. "I…I may stay here?" he asked in halting disbelief.
"Of course."
"Really?"
"Really. Legolas, you have always been welcome in Imladris."
"Thank you. I can fill in your forms now," he said almost eagerly as though the offer was going to be ripped away from him – as if Glorfindel could ever be that cruel.
"That's not really necessary."
"Please, I want to do it."
Glorfindel was reluctant. The younger Elf didn't look like he would be able to even hold a pen with those shaking hands. However, the prince's tired, pleading eyes got the better of him. "All right, mellon nin." He went to the desk and retrieved the forgotten asylum application papers and a pencil. "Here, it's pretty simple. Just state your name, title and reasons for needing sanctuary," Glorfindel explained to him, trying to remain professional and formal as he would with any other applicant. Legolas nodded even though his slow, sluggish mind could barely process what he was being told. Glorfindel had informed him that this was not necessary and half his mind told him that he could now go to a nice warm bed right then and rest his shattered body. But another scared and irrational part of his mind screamed at him to get something official, something in writing. Proof that his long journey was finally over. He needed assurance.
Glorfindel handed Legolas the papers, noting how they shook slightly in his weak grasp. Despite the cloak around his shoulders and the warmth of the office, the Elf was shivering, showing just how cold he was, and Glorfindel wondered how long he had been out in the wilds. He looked worryingly thin, almost gaunt, with his filthy, ripped clothes hanging off his lithe frame, suggesting he hadn't eaten in a long time. His normally shimmering blonde hair hung unkempt around his face and was almost brown it was so filthy. Obviously, he hadn't stopped in a long while. His eyes seemed dull and he blinked lethargically now and then as if having to fight to even keep his eyes open. He swayed a little where he sat and Glorfindel restrained the urge to force him to lie down before he fell to the floor.
Legolas was now staring blankly at the paper in his hands. "You'll need a pencil," Glorfindel prompted, pressing the pencil into Legolas' hand and having to disguise a wince when he felt once more how freezing cold Legolas' hands were.
With trembling hands, the prince slowly started to scribble on the paper. "Let me make you some warm tea, mellon nin. Please. You're frozen."
"I don't want to inconvenience you," Legolas said shakily, looking up from his writing.
"It's no trouble. I usually have a mug at this time of night anyway."
Realising that the prospect of warmth sounded just too good to resist, Legolas nodded attempting and failing a smile. "Thank you."
Immediately, Glorfindel set about boiling some water over the fire and mixing together the herbs to make a hot, soothing tea. The sound of rustling paper followed by the subtle clearing of the throat from Legolas made Glorfindel turn around and he noticed the prince blinking rapidly and shaking his head almost as if he was trying to wake himself up after almost falling asleep where he sat, which was entirely possible.
"Legolas, you really don't have to complete those right now. They can wait until the morning once you have rested. I can find you a room so you can…"
"I need to finish, sir. But thank you."
"As long as you're certain." Legolas nodded and once more cleared his throat, shifting back on the couch as he could feel himself starting to slip nearer to the edge and he was slightly worried that he might soon end up on the floor. A minute later, Glorfindel heard another rustle, this one as Legolas got more comfortable on the large couch then, just as he finished stirring the tea, he heard something fall to the floor and he turned around. "Legolas?" he asked in confusion. The prince had shifted back so he was leaning back properly against the couch and had obviously been unable to keep his eyes open a second longer.
Upon Glorfindel's assurances, Legolas had leaned back and closed his eyes in relief, having every intention of completing the forms. Before he even had time to reopen his eyes though his utterly exhausted mind had taken his momentary lapse in concentration to just shut itself down, forcing the Elf to rest. The papers he had been working on had slipped from his lax fingers, fluttering to the floor.
"Legolas?" Glorfindel repeated, taking a step towards the couch. He smiled softly when he realised that the prince was already peacefully asleep.
Glorfindel picked up a thick blanket from under the couch and draped it over his arm whilst he gently removed the forgotten pencil from Legolas' limp fingers. He placed it on the desk and collected up the scattered papers from the floor, noticing that the prince's normally neat writing was scrawling, shaky and barely legible. Not that it mattered; the papers weren't necessary after all.
Worried that the young Elf was still shivering even in his sleep, the seneschal of Imladris carefully laid the blanket over him, tucking it around him. Feeling the movement, Legolas opened his eyes a slit and met Glorfindel's. He murmured something that sounded vaguely like 'sorry' but Glorfindel assured, "Shh, it's all right. Rest, mellon nin." Without any further encouragement, the blue eyes slid shut again and his head lolled to one side.
Glorfindel stayed with Legolas until he was certain the prince was properly asleep and then he very quietly slipped from the room. He strode down the corridors until he reached the conference room. Knowing all the diplomats would still be in there thrashing out the treaty details, Glorfindel opened the door and stepped inside silently.
The diplomats were sitting around the long rectangular all looking rather weary. Half-empty glasses on wine were before most of them as well as piles of scattered papers. They were all deep in conversation, which by now was more than a little strained. Around the sides of the room servants and advisors were waiting for their respective masters. Erestor, Elrond's own assistant and the house's major domo, was stood off to one side furiously scribbling notes and trying to keep up with the conversation. He looked up upon Glorfindel's entrance and smiled grimly. Elrond himself sat at the head of the table, sitting regally upright, his hands folded neatly on the table before him, drinking in everything he was hearing but not partaking in the yelling. Although he looked calm, not betraying his true emotions, Glorfindel could see the frustration just beneath the surface and knew his Lord's patience was running thin. As he made his way around the table, Elrond caught his eye, a little surprised to see his seneschal here. Usually, when Glorfindel had to deal with sanctuary requests he was kept busy for a long time.
Glorfindel reached Elrond and bent down so he could speak without anyone overhearing. "Excuse me for interrupting, my Lord, but there is something you need to see," Glorfindel said softly.
Turning his head to face Glorfindel, Elrond said, "Is it important? I'm still needed here."
"Very important, my Lord."
Elrond nodded. He knew Glorfindel wouldn't disturb him unless he was urgently needed. He calmly stood up and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the Lord of Imladris. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please excuse me for a moment. I'll be right back." Before Elrond had even turned to leave they were back to arguing. As he walked past him, Elrond whispered to Erestor, "Make sure they don't kill each other in my absence." The assistant nodded and went back to his scribbling.
Once they were outside in the corridor, Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Valar, a brief reprieve." Glorfindel smiled softly, knowing how much he hated mediating these shouting matches. "There were moments I honestly thought we were about to be plunged into all-out war."
"So it's not going well?" Glorfindel asked dryly.
"You could say that. So what was so important that you had to pull me out of the most important political meeting in years?" Elrond asked as Glorfindel led him through the corridors.
"There's someone you need to see."
"Is this about your sanctuary applicant?"
"Yes. It's someone we know."
"Who?" Elrond asked, growing ever more curious.
"It's the Prince of Mirkwood."
Elrond outright laughed at this, startling Glorfindel a little. "Legolas is in Imladris? He always did like to make an entrance. Seeking asylum, he's never used that one before."
Glorfindel stopped Elrond just a few corridors from his office. "My Lord, the prince's is actually here to seek sanctuary. He turned up about an hour ago, freezing cold and soaking wet and asked to stay in Imladris. Apparently, Thranduil has banished him from Mirkwood. He's in my office now." Elrond's face had turned from humour to shock as Glorfindel said this, knowing this was no longer a joke. He broke into a run and they reached Glorfindel's office a minute later. Elrond dashed through the door but stopped abruptly when he saw Legolas, still partially laid out on the couch, covering in a blanket and looking paler than Elrond had ever seen him. And so small; Legolas had never looked so small in all the years that Elrond had known him.
"Legolas," Elrond whispered, finally stepping into the office and approaching the prince. "Legolas?"
As Elrond lowered himself to sit beside Legolas on the couch, Glorfindel explained quietly, "He started to fill out the asylum forms then just fell asleep."
"You made him fill out forms?" Elrond snapped angrily.
"He insisted. I told him it wasn't necessary but he practically begged to fill them out. My Lord, he is cold and his clothes are all torn and filthy, I think he's been on the road for quite a while. And, my Lord, I think he is ill."
"Ill? Elves don't suffer illness, Glorfindel," Elrond said shortly as if talking to an ignorant child.
"I know but he was shaking and he was sick earlier. I offered to take him to a healer but he flat out refused."
"Did he tell you what happened?"
"He didn't say much at all."
Elrond nodded in understanding and turned his attention back to the prince. He reached out a hand and brushed it over Legolas' pale cheek, wincing when he felt how cold it was, especially considering it was now a little too warm in the office. "Legolas? Melleth nin? Can you hear me?"
"He looked utterly exhausted, my Lord."
"Legolas?" After a long moment, heavy blue eyes opened, looking sluggishly around himself. Panic rose in him. He had been filling out forms. Fear raced through him when he thought that now he would be thrown from the last place that offered hope. Noticing him panic, Elrond placed a hand on his arm and smiled gently when Legolas' eyes met him. "It's all right, you're safe."
"Elrond?" Legolas asked shakily and Elrond smiled at him in confirmation. Then the prince remembered his position and struggled to force his exhausted body up to sit. "My Lord Elrond, I've come to ask you for sanctuary in your realm. I…I haven't completed all the…forms yet but…"
"Shh, don't worry about that," Elrond said, reaching up to wipe away the tears that Legolas didn't realise had started to fall.
"I…I didn't have anywhere else…to go," the prince stuttered tearfully.
Putting his arm around Legolas' shoulders, not missing the shivering, Elrond said softly, "You know you're always welcome in Imladris."
With tears streaming down his face, Legolas practically whimpered, "Please don't send me away. Please."
Elrond pulled Legolas against his chest as the younger Elf broke down into tears. Gently stroking filthy wet hair back, Elrond soothed, "Shh, I'm not going to send you away. You're safe in Imladris. We're going to look after you." Legolas was now gripping the front of Elrond's robes with thin, shaking and worryingly weak hands. "Shh, I've got you."
Slowly, Legolas' cries died down and he rested tiredly against Elrond. Of all the people in Imladris, Elrond had been the one Legolas pushed himself and his horse so hard to reach. He had longed to be in his friend and lover's arms. There he had always felt safe, held by those hands that always remained so steady and strong no matter what. He needed that. Pressing his cold cheek against the clothed warmth of Elrond's broad chest, Legolas closed his eyes in relief. Elrond hadn't thrown him out. Both he and Glorfindel had said that he could remain in Rivendell. For the time being he was safe. Elrond could protect him now. Already he could feel the warmth seeping back into his frozen body, which had more to do with the presence of the Elven Lord than the heat in the office. With Elrond pressed up against him, the increased temperature and the soothing hand that was stroking his hair, Legolas felt himself being lulled back into sleep but fought to keep his eyes open.
Looking down and seeing the younger Elf fighting off sleep, Elrond said gently, "Come on, melleth nin. Let's get you out of these wet clothes and into a bed." He glanced up at his seneschal, who had been watching silently, and said, "Could you please go and inform the diplomats that we shall have to pick the madness up later."
"Of course, sir." He left the room without further comment.
Elrond reached down and pulled up the blanket and wrapped it around the prince. "Put your arm around my neck," he said, standing up. Too tired and drained to argue, Legolas did as he was told. The Lord of Imladris bent down, placing an arm under Legolas' legs and easily lifted the slight frame into his arms. Legolas rested his head against Elrond's strong chest, completely secure in the arms of the person he loved.
Translations:
Mellon nin – My friend
Melleth nin – My love
Mae govannan – Well met