Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, Aurelia and other original characters are mine.

A quick note, I'm desperately looking for a beta reader to look over grammar, plot and character developments, so if anyone's interested please please let me know. I'd much appreciate the help :) Hope you enjoy the story; it touches on aspects from both the books and the movies (probably more from the movies though since it's been ages and a day since I've read the books), although it is largely AU, where Legolas and Gimli take Pippin to Minas Tirith, and Gandalf goes with Aragorn. Updates will be hopefully kept on a regular weekly schedule, and if you have any comments or criticisms please review!

Thanks!

-Periodic

The Emerald Courtier

Chapter One: The Price to Pay

"Behold the fishnet slut tonight
Hustle Rose goes from limb to limb
Fingertip to painted lip she sways her way up to him"

Metric – "Hustle Rose"

His breath was the putrid breath of decay. His eyes, half closed, were empty and cold: long tunnels of endless madness that drew you in. You could lose yourself in those crazed eyes, but she had learnt long ago to look away. His fumbling hands were clammy against her skin, as if every trace of the man had been replaced with ice; as if it wasn't a man who thrust himself upon her now but an animal, a demon, a brute of sagging muscle and fat.

For the most part she did what was required of her, knowing that while this man still held the title of Steward her place of nobility would be in question.

He groaned once, his aged body shuddering before he rolled off of her.

"You may go," he dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand.

She slipped from the bed without a word and pulled her robe quickly over thin shoulders.

"My Lord," turning she curtsied low, bowing her head. She backed from the room, pausing at the door to draw her hood over her tousled brown curls.

Out in the hall she closed the door softly behind her, careful to pay no attention to the guards as they in turn pretended she did not exist.

"My Lady, did you speak with Lord Denethor?" A smooth voice spoke suddenly and she jumped, spinning quickly to see a man watching her. No, not a man, but an elf.

Recovering from her surprise, she lifted her chin and straightened her posture, letting formality take over. "Yes, but I am afraid he will see no one at the moment." She replied coolly and made to move past him.

"Wait," He shifted and blocked her exit. "This is a matter of the utmost urgency."

"I'm sorry sir, but I am a noblewoman. Matters of the utmost urgency do not concern me." She lifted her gaze to his and let an icy, polite smile decorate her lips. "If you will please excuse me-"

A hand gripped her arm suddenly, cutting off her words. "Are you in the habit of visiting the steward without footwear, my Lady?" His words were low so that the guards would not overhear, even so she froze suddenly.

"You will release me at once sir." She hissed in return, and was satisfied when the shifting movement from the guards behind caused him to loosen his severe hold. She jerked her arm from his grasp and with her head held high strode past him. Unfortunately he turned and followed her, falling easily into step.

"Is there something you require, Master Elf?"

"Only an explanation for why the Steward of Gondor would see yourself and not the people sent by his future king." He said this nonchalantly, not once breaking stride. She, however, faltered in step, hesitating a moment before evading the comment about kingship.

"My Lord likes companionship; these are trying times."

"And you provide it for him?" He asked, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice.

"You judge me." One look at the cool disdain on his beautifully pale features was answer enough. She kept her own face carefully free of emotion, while chuckling lightly.

"Ah, it has been so long since I have spoken with someone outside the court. Minas Tirith is a proud city, full of proud, moral people who live by their principles as I see you do. It is truly commendable. As a noble it is rare to see morals practiced and I do not mean as a means to manipulate ones façade and social standing." She paused for a moment to tap a finger lightly against her full lips as she glanced at him sidelong. "However, I hope you will forgive me when I suggest that you are perhaps a bit rash in your condemning me. Really, such a verdict is almost, dare I say, illogical. After all, you do not know me else you would have called me by name. You do not care for me else you would have requested why I go to the Steward. You do not understand the pain that has engulfed this city else you would find another, more appropriate means of attaining council with My Lord, rather than accosting me. Since you have done none of these things, I'm afraid I am forced to conclude that you have no true just cause or reason to behave as you do. In which case I must respectfully ask you to refrain from any prior judgment of myself Master Elf, however righteous it may be, or else risk crossing into noble politics - and if I may be so bold; it is not the place for the faint hearted." She flashed him her dazzling courtier smile and swept past him in a flurry of rustling silk and sashaying hips. Moving over to an oaken door she produced a key from the pocket of her robe and made to unlock her chamber door.

"I fight for this city." The furious voice stopped her, and turning she caught the angry glint in his eyes. "When the orcs come from Osgiliath, I will fight for this city. The king will fight for his city."

"Perhaps it shall never come to that," She replied blandly. "My Lord Faramir is well trained in battle, perhaps Osgiliath will be recaptured, and we will have no need for your mythical king."

"The king has returned: he is no longer a myth!"

She kept silent for a moment, watching for any betrayal that this was in fact a lie. To believe such a thing, to hope for such a thing- she had heard rumors of course, but never anything more substantial. And that was what it came down to, one more person – elf, rather – informing her that the rightful king was back to claim his long waiting thrown could no more be claimed as evidence than the eager whisperings amongst the desperate nobility.

"I must retire-"

"You do believe me, don't you? You do understand what that means."

"What I do not understand is why you continue to pester me so. Unless," She arched a brow, "You yourself seek companionship?"

His face twisted in disgust and he quickly stepped back from her as if she were unclean. A shameful blush coloured her dark cheeks but she tilted her chin up challengingly and held his gaze until he looked away.

"I apologize my Lady; I did not mean to give the wrong impression. I will take my leave." With a curt bow he brusquely moved out of sight and with a sigh she entered her chamber.

Shutting the door and leaning against it she heaved another sigh and closed her eyes. Her long fingers curled into fists, her nails biting deep into the palms of her hands as her throat burned fiercely. Her stomach churned and heaved and she swallowed rapidly, gulping at the air to fight the swell of bile. A dark hatred ate at her, gnawing on her very soul until there was nothing left in her but a gaping chasm of sorrow and loathing.

She swiped angrily at the tears that splashed down her cheeks, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as if to push back the sad drops.

"Stop it," She ordered herself firmly in a language that differed from the one she had used to speak with the elf. Indeed, it would have been incomprehensible to any dweller of Middle-Earth.

Without looking she locked her door and pocketed the key, moving over to the window that overlooked Gondor's wonderful gardens. She had the greatest view of all the rooms, save the Steward's of course who had taken the king's chambers. This was one of the many perks to being Denethor's favoured mistress, and it was this view that she used to remind herself why she must stay in that circle of favour.

She turned from the window and crept to her expansive bed, slinking beneath the finely woven covers. She hid her face in the downy pillows and hugged her knees to her chest, allowing thoughts of the true king of Gondor lull her into a sense of peace.