-1Title : Lack of Notches
Pairing : Legolas and Elrond
Warning : None
Notes : 2007 Elfmoot Challenge; words were "light", "alive", and "breezy".
Proud. That was the first word that came to mind upon seeing the tall Lord of Imladris standing at the grand entrance, ready to greet the weary travelers. Legolas had to force himself to breathe, his eyes traveling over the many balconies in an attempt to *not* stare at Elrond Perendhil. A rather unsuccessful attempt at that!
It was all his father's fault, Legolas thought rather uncharitably. Thranduil had warned Legolas about Elrond-the-Half-Elf, Elrond-the-Loremaster, Elrond-Who-Was-With-Gil-Galad. It was well-known by Legolas that his father was growing increasingly insular, even to his own kind. It was equally well-known by all that Thranduil's youngest son had a deplorable habit of doing exactly what his father had told him not to do. Small surprise now that Legolas was discreetly ogling Elrond and consequently thinking him the most handsome elf alive.
"Your Highness?" a voice issued from Legolas' left shoulder, startling him. Runien, the Captain of the Mirkwood Guard, eyed Legolas askance. Being the closest thing Legolas had to a friend, Runien had the benefit of knowing the prince better than most. Enough to recognize that light in his eyes. "Oh no..." he sighed. "Legolas, we are here to deliver ill tidings... not put another notch in your bedpost."
Legolas flushed. "You are assuming that my bedpost has any notches in it to begin with." he managed to say, trying to sound breezy and unconcerned.
"Elrond Perendhil for your first, hmm?" Runien seemed to consider this as though he was wondering what to have for lunch. "Well, I have to hand it to you. If you were looking for a way to make your father absolutely and shockingly irrate, that would be an outstanding way to start."
Legolas snorted in a decidedly un-prince-like manner. "Utterly doubtful." he sighed, looking in Elrond's direction once more, pale eyes tracing over that fine profile and dark, thick hair. "He has sons, does he not? Generally that means someone has a prior claim."
Runien sighed again, eerily reminiscent of Thranduil. "You are woefully uneducated in the gossip of Elfkind, my prince. Elrond's son are older than you are and his wife, the Lady Celebrian, sailed several centuries ago."
"Ah." Legolas said, heart lifting but a little. "But certainly someone has claimed so fair a prize by now?"
"Some have tried." Runien allowed, following Legolas as they finally started heading inwards, voices dropped to secret levels. "However, he has gently rebuffed all."
"Oh?" Legolas feigned mere curiosity when, in truth, his heart was steadily migrating up to his throat.
Runien grinned, alarmingly helpful. Legolas cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be discouraging me from this like a good little lap dog of Thranduil's?" he asked, somewhat annoyed, though for no reason he could think of... other than this continually rising hope that he feared would result in a fall.
The guard only shrugged. "Thranduil is my liege-lord, as well as yours... but you are my friend. And, by all accounts, Elrond could do with a shaft of Mirkwood sunlight in his boring little life. If that beam turns out to be you, so much the better. Perhaps if the King is forced to turn you loose, he will turn his attentions to more important matters... such as *not* alienating every elf kingdom in Middle Earth."
Legolas grimaced. "And to think that the Elven politics of Middle Earth depend upon my bedroom activities."
Runien shrugged; they were drawing nearer. "Well, if you want your bedpost to remain unmolested, that is your choice entirely."
"Wondrous help, you are." Legolas complained softly, the conversation closing as they came within earshot of Elrond.
The half-elf was flanked on either side; the brilliantly blond Glorfindel to his right and the dark and sullen Erestor to his left. Legolas introduced himself and bowed. As he straightened, his eyes met the startling silver of Elrond's... and those mithril orbs held a hunger, he'd never seen before.