Ranger's Folly, Prince's Fate

by erobey | un-beta'd | Italics=thoughts

Chapter One: Legolas Has a Request

The soft chatter of voices reached him from ahead, four distinctive voices well known and loved, and Legolas, weary beyond exhaustion though he was, could not help but listen. They were talking of home and the leave promised at the end of this mission, of longing for the security of high talans and the comfort of soft beds, of sweet reunions, passionate and joyful, with mates or lovers, of filing one's arms with the warm, fragile resilience of a beloved child's body, lean little arms flung round the returned parent's neck, locked on tighter than a tick on a deer's flank, as squeals of laughter and shrieks of welcome exploded at ear-level. Mirth bubbled up over that, jokes about being near deaf for a ten-day and unable to go anywhere without the attached elfling, not even to empty the bladder or bathe.

Those not so blessed, as yet, gave moving tribute in poetic terms, these stalwart soldiers, these inveterate assassins, of what it meant to see the light of love and feel the warmth of a gentle touch from those so dear to them it pained the heart in the most wondrous way. The phrases were such that songs were meant to carry them and, indeed, one of the warriors broke into a spontaneous ballad.

'I know him, and my heart leaps as the scent of him precedes his coming,

soft and soundless through the leaves, he moves toward me, eyes filled with his spirit, which has pined for me these many days,

As mine has sought for him in the dark and the night, in the midst of battle, in the stars cool and brilliant, in the rising sun and the running brook.

And Lo! He is there; he is there! My joy expands and floods the forest, spills into the wind and speeds away through the air,

a winged thing, swifter than a hawk, brighter than a scarlet singer, my love reaches him before I do and claims him before I do.

I know him and follow my spirit, hastening to his arms to affirm what our hearts have already proclaimed:

we are one, secured by love and sealed by desire; eternally, we are one.'

Quiet praise followed the impromptu performance and Legolas dutifully added his, though the words struck him with a peculiar sort of agony he had come to expect of late, for now this song, these circumstances, combined to produce a more devastating twinge than normal. He slumped a bit on his mare's withers and a long sigh issued from his lungs. At once a firm hand clasped his upper arm to steady him.

"Ernilen, do you need to halt and rest for a time?" the question was scarcely louder than a whisper as the tall elf leaned close, concern in his sharp green eyes and pensive brow. He scanned Legolas' face and peered into the gaze turned upon him, searching for the answer this way as he knew what words would follow his query.

"I am weary, true, but not enough to make us stop. Please, Elboron, we all just want to get home," Legolas whispered back, sighing again when his captain sat straight and gaped at him in shock. "Please do not call attention to me," he pleaded.

"I have no intent to do so, Brannon neth; I just was not expecting you to admit to the evident discomfort you suffer," said Elboron, compassion in his tone and touch as he gave a gentle squeeze and then let go. A brief pause ensued. "You are sure "

"Aye, let it pass!" hissed Legolas, resuming a more upright posture. An inquisitive face turned in his direction and he glared at the warrior ahead so darkly the elleth hastily averted her eyes.

The gleeful conversations had stopped, the warriors mute as each contemplated the homecoming now mere hours away. The danger intricately woven into their lives and careers lent the peace and serenity of common events a sweetness that was incomparable and much cherished. Sporting with death as they did, the silvan archers hungered for the simplicity of their sheltered corner of the ancient woods where music and dance, the hunt and the feast, the stars and the turn of the seasons fixed the focus of their existence and bound them together. There it was yet possible to forget, for a little while, that they were a people besieged, struggling for the right to remain free.

Truly, Legolas did not begrudge them their avowals of love, their bursting pride over adored children, or even the detailed referrals to bed-sport and trysting. These were not just warriors under his father's command but comrades he had known all his life, his boon companions since their elfling days when the five of them had distinguished themselves as prodigies in the art of killing. Selected out from among their peers, the common gift and the rigourous training to which they were thenceforth subjected forged a deep bond between them. Yet, of late, a breach had opened betwixt them; one that separated Legolas from his dearest friends. Alone among them, he had no lover, no mate, no family of his own. For the first time since their introduction to one another, Legolas was left out.

The pain and weariness lends their friendly banter a less genial note to my ears and that is to be expected, as is their need to express their hope and happiness. After the rigours we've endured, they are bound to be more vocal, more urgent in their desire for home and family again.

So Legolas rationalised his discontent. Indeed, it had been a near thing whether they would ever return and only extreme measures had kept Elboron from losing the entire troop to the long death of imprisonment and torture in Dol Guldur. Legolas was not the only casualty but his hurts were the more serious and, while not life-threatening, the injuries were also not trivial. The unrelenting ache and throb had him feeling keenly every bit of the effort their escape had cost.

On top of these physical woes, his pride had taken a terrible blow, for the truth could not be denied and would have to enter the official report of the mission. While providing the diversion required to permit the troop's escape, Legolas had fallen from the heights, brought down by a careless misstep onto a branch rotted and crumbling. He landed hard and barely had time to recover his breath before a contingent of orcs swarmed in to capture him. That had been a fierce and bloody battle that came to daggers before he got back into the trees and managed to flee.

When Elboron spied him, staggering with stiff, ungainly steps through the canopy, tunic drenched dark with both elvish and orcish blood, wheezing in laboured efforts to get enough air, he nearly fainted. More than a trusted captain and mentor, he was Thranduil's younger brother and the one person in all the realm the King trusted to keep his beloved son safe. Fortunately, the wounds looked far worse than truly they were and Elboron was relieved to learn that as he tended the gashes and carefully splinted a badly swollen wrist. This Legolas regretted the most, causing his uncle the distress and guilt of seeing him bloodied and battered and spent. Now he would not leave Legolas' side and while his presence was an undeniable comfort, it reinforced a nagging loss of confidence.

Legolas sighed again, this time with enough volume that it came forth sounding more like an abbreviated groan. Every head turned to him and again Elboron took careful hold of his good arm.

"Valar, this pace is a hindrance," Legolas complained to cover his despondency. "Can we not hurry a bit, toradar? We are all eager to reach the gates before night."

"I agree and will feel better to have a healer examine those injuries," Elboron said and then delivered the ultimatum. "You will ride with me, torion, if I see you falter."

"I will not," averred Legolas and leaned low over his mount's neck as he nudged her side for speed. They bounded away in the lead and he smiled through the pain, pleased to hear the thunder of hooves as the others followed. Soon Elboron caught up and abreast they crossed over into the stronghold, a bright blare of trumpets heralding their return.

The healers kept him an entire day and night but Legolas was not inclined to grouse at his confinement. His father came and spent the time with him, reading to him, challenging him to strategy games or cards to chase away boredom, although Thranduil was no stranger to his son's moods and knew well this was not the cause of Legolas' discontent. At last he coaxed the truth out and Legolas had been only too glad to reveal the source of his hurt and disappointment: Not one of his friends had come by the infirmary to visit him. Thranduil enumerated the reasons, noting Legolas' deepening ill humour to hear of obligations to mates, lovers, or family.

He drifted into restless reverie as Ithil reached its zenith and Thranduil watched over him, concerned but patient. Legolas would seek him out only when he had thoroughly examined his dilemma from every imaginable angle and arrived at his chosen resolution. Then it would be his father's counsel he craved, needing to hear confirmation of his wisdom or rational reasons not to pursue his plan, along with possible alternatives. The moment arrived far sooner than the worried father expected.

A perfunctory tap on the boards announced Legolas' entrance as he pushed open the door and sauntered into his Ada's study, Thranduil looking up with a smile to see his son in what he internally termed his 'comfort clothes': the loose fitting raw silk pants and tunic worn for training in hand-to-hand combat. Indeed, he knew Legolas slept in them, when he wore anything for sleep, and their appearance bespoke both his unabated weariness and his deep contentment to be home, free of the worry and travail of the mission just completed. A slight frown crossed his brow as Legolas fairly flowed into his favourite chair, exhaling deeply and flopping bonelessly into the deep leather upholstery, raising his bare feet to rest upon the footstool as he glanced toward his father, a hesitant smile only enhancing the depth of exhaustion showing in his eyes.

"Have you time for a brief word, Ada?" he asked.

"Of course," Thranduil got up from his desk at once and poured a small cup of wine for them both, though it was barely the noon hour, and pressed this into Legolas' hands as he sat across from his son in the matching chair. "I always have time for your concerns." He paused, wondering what had his child so melancholy of late, thinking back now to determine how long this bleak mood had dogged Legolas. The estimate his memory supplied caused him a sudden surge of alarm, for it had been months since Legolas' laughter filled this room. "I was going to ask how you feel but the answer is before me," Thranduil said quietly. "I fear you have left the infirmary too soon, ionen."

"Nay, I am improved since this morning. Still, this was one of the most unsuccessful missions I have yet completed," he admitted, "for though I have taken worse wounds, seldom are our sorties so ineffective. Indeed, we gathered no new intelligence at all for our troubles."

"Yet this is not the reason you are here now," said Thranduil shrewdly. He had already had Elboron's report. "Speak your mind, ion, and share this burden."

Another deep-drawn sigh filled the air before Legolas took a taste of the wine and then he made an effort to sit straight, a fleeting glance checking his father's eyes to gauge the monarch's mood. Curious and concerned but utterly unsuspecting. A small grimace tinged his lips and a faint blush crept up to his ears. Really, he had rather wished his Ada would broach the topic himself ere now. Can't be helped; I must take hold of my fate and speak out. So resolved, Legolas took another sip of the drink, for courage, and began.

"Adar, I have passed three-quarters of my second century and am in all ways accepted as an adult among our people, yes?" He did not pause to hear the question answered. "I am one of your best archers "

"The very best Greenwood has ever seen, save perhaps your grandfather," Thranduil interrupted proudly. That earned him a swift flash of a smile before Legolas pressed on.

"You have no cause to be displeased with my conduct in court, either, and even the old generals respect my opinion where the central regions of the woods are concerned." He hurried on, seeing signs that his father wished to break in once more. "My peers and friends have likewise entered into the fullness of participation in our community, yet I find they have advanced while I have faltered."

"What?" Thranduil had no idea what his son could mean. "On the contrary, you outshine them all in skill, bravery, finesse, and, if a father may say it, beauty and grace."

"I cannot agree with you," Legolas shook his head sadly. "If I am all those things you named, why am I still untouched?" Another sip left him staring into the cup and his voice fell also. "Why am I still unloved?"

"Un touched?" Senses reeling, Thranduil was struck speechless for a few seconds and could only gape at his child, so forlorn and despondent before him, and then in an explosion of paternal devotion rose and gathered Legolas up to his heart. "Nay, nay, ion, not unloved, never, never unloved," he consoled, slowly rocking Legolas as he pressed a kiss to the loose golden tresses.

"You know what I mean," Legolas murmured against the soft suede of his Ada's tunic, inhaling the comforting scent of fir and leather that clung to his father and defined his concepts of security and belonging. Another unhappy breath left him and he extricated himself from the tight embrace, meeting the worried green eyes resolutely as he announced: "It is time I took a lover."

"Lover?" the word escaped in a ragged gasp and Thranduil physically startled, gaze sweeping back and forth between the troubled uncertainty in Legolas' eyes. He could not think of what to say; this was nothing he had imagined his son's woes would encompass. Before he could compose any coherent response, Legolas was speaking again.

"Aye, Ada, and since I have not generated anything like romantic interest among the elves I know, I turn to you. In the old days in Doriath, was it not the habit of parents to select a suitable person for their child's first experience of intimacy?" Legolas peered at his father hopefully, heartened that thus far no denouncement of his request had arisen. Of course, he had only just got the words out and it was apparent the idea had never occurred to his Adar. He swallowed. "I want I need someone to come home to, Ada."

Suddenly Thranduil let go, for he felt his knees going weak, and dropped gracelessly back into his seat. He snatched up the cup and drank deeply, watching his son the while, marking the hopeful anticipation, fearful self-doubt, and open misery so blatantly displayed on the young ellon's expression. Next Thranduil felt shame wash through his soul to have let this matter go so long without discussing it.

He'd had the raising of Legolas alone, his beloved wife dead when their elfling was scarcely three, and the doting father had not shied from his duty to teach his son of the natural course of life and its means of perpetuation. Nor had he declined to speak of the heart and the needs of the soul, regaling his child with the depth of his love for his beloved mate and stories of their courtship and life together. How, then, had he failed to explain the ways of courting and the obstacles placed before every person of rank? One look at his son was enough to understand: Thranduil had refused to admit his only elfling was grown up at last, soon to be gone from his side in favour of a new love, a new family. Thranduil could barely let the ideas enter his mind without feeling a deep stab of pain and loneliness. He shook his head and made a dark scowl over his selfish neglect, for this was not what served his child best, and reached out to settle a hand upon his son's knee.

"Aye, Legolas, you speak of that which is closest to an elf's heart. I beg you will forgive my reticence to discuss this with you sooner," he began awkwardly. "I can do nothing less than admit this is not something I have given sufficient consideration. I confess it, you have remained a child in my eyes and I am loathe to give you up, but you deserve to know the happiness a loving bond brings." He had to stop as Legolas bounded into his lap and locked those strong archer's arms about his neck.

"Thank you, Ada!" Legolas exclaimed in quiet joy. "I knew you would not fail me." He retreated back to his chair, face flushed and eyes bright, and leaned forward eagerly. "Who shall it be? Can you order someone to be my lover? How will they treat with me? I do not want anyone to come to me in resentment under pain of punishment."

"Ai! Nay, Legolas!" Thranduil stared, aghast that such thoughts were running through his son's mind. "Can you truly think so little of yourself and your appeal to others?"

"What else can I think," Legolas shrugged and slumped back into a dejected heap. "No one has ever so much as asked me to go riding in the woods, much less spend a day at the falls."

Thranduil raised a brow; the falls were Greenwood's traditional trysting place of the young, a secluded and romantic destination for exploration and first attempts at adult pleasures. He had assumed Legolas had gone there, as he had visited the comparable spot in Neldoreth so many centuries ago. That Legolas had not filled the King with sudden discomfort, for he had a fair idea as to why.

"It has naught to do with your allure, pen neth," he announced in abashed tones. "It is my fault."

"What?" Legolas sat up in surprised disbelief.

"Yes. You see, there was an incident involving one of the warriors assigned to sentry duty at my court," he began. "You were not yet an adult, being but forty-five years old, and yet you were already the fairest elf in the stronghold, by far. Most people would not think to dally with such a tender youth, but this guard was the exception."

"Ada, no one has dallied with me," protested Legolas, no small amount of frustration colouring the sentence.

"I know it, ion, but let me continue and perhaps I may shed light on your dilemma. This warrior was boasting of having caught your eye and bold in announcing his plans to have you for himself. He claimed you flirted with him shamelessly and rather than being discreet and informing me, as any respectable elf would do, he bragged of his 'conquest'." Thranduil paused in consternation as Legolas' cheeks flamed crimson and his eyes turned away, those deadly hands fidgeting in his lap. Realisation dawned. "You knew?" A fleeting nod and a glance from woebegone and mortified eyes pushed the comprehension further. "Ai Elbereth, you really did flirt with him!"

"I am sorry Ada," mumbled Legolas, head hanging low. "I meant no harm. I just hoped for a kiss, nothing more, not then at least." He dared a peek at his father's face, expecting an eruption of anger, but Thranduil's features were lax and his eyes vacant. "Ada?"

"Legolas," Thranduil shook himself, denial forcing the truth away. "You did nothing wrong, son; all young elves flirt. As I said, this much older elf was willing to indulge his lechery and take advantage of your innocence. Needless to say, I convinced him otherwise."

"You, Ada?" Legolas suddenly laughed as relief flooded his heart. "I thought it was something I did, for one day Cemendur was so attentive and friendly and the next he was cold and his words, once flattering and cajoling, became harsh and cutting."

"For that he deserves even more the punishment he received," growled Thranduil, aching inside to think of the pain his young son had endured to be so utterly rejected. "I transferred him to the Southern Patrol, as you may have heard, and in anger he renounced citizenship and immigrated to Lothlorien. Good riddance, say I!" he concluded vehemently but then grew sombre. "I fear my reprisals were well-known as the reprimand I gave him was vocal and public, even as his vain boasting had been. Word travelled quickly that any who sought your favour would earn my wrath. I meant only for others to respect your tender age, not to exclude you from any and all attention."

"Then it is not because there is something repulsive about me?" Legolas was nearly exuberant, his smile wide and filled with hope.

"Certainly not!" Thranduil declared, again rising to draw his son into a firm embrace. "Forgive me for being over-zealous in protecting you."

"It is fine, Ada; I love you for it though I wish we had talked about this long ago. For these last many years I have come to despair of ever having a mate and decided to settle for a lover. Then my efforts in that endeavour failed and I despaired of the cause, deciding there was some flaw in me I could not perceive. Now, with your sanction, all obstacles are removed." Eagerly he sat forward again. "Who, then, shall it be? Am I permitted to express my preferences? Shall we draw together a list? How is it decided; will you simply interview my prospects or set them tasks to complete to determine their worthiness?"

Thranduil smiled and suppressed his mirth, for it was clear his young son had quite a romantic heart, something that had not changed from his elfling days. He sincerely hoped it never would, for so had his wife-mate been and it was a trait he adored. He took a breath and set about answering his son's concerns.

"Tasks are not needed so much as a thorough examination of the elleth's character and family. I would have you find love with someone like your naneth and "

"Elleth?" Legolas' features contorted in open disgust. "Please, Ada, I have no wish for a maiden."

"You don't?" Thranduil was crestfallen. "What of younglings, ion? Have you no wish for a family of your own to raise and cherish?"

"Nay. I cannot abide the noise and the mess and the loss of freedom elflings bring. Even less can I abide the soft contours of the female form and strange thoughts that occupy an elleth's mind. I am moved by strength and skill, the flex and flow of hard muscles beneath velvet skin, of desire I can both see and touch, a desire like unto my own that I can encompass within "

"I understand," Thranduil interrupted with desperate speed, holding up his hand to stop this outpouring of fantasy before his son described the culmination of such dreams. A shaky smile adorned his wan visage and he could not hide the disappointment crowding his heart.

"You are displeased," Legolas sat back as he registered this unexpected response. "When I was twenty, you told me how life is renewed among our people and I asked you then about Galion and Carnil, if they would have elflings. You explained that love between like kind does not generate life, but that such romances were not to be hindered or scorned."

"So I did and so I say now," Thranduil nodded. "I just did not realise you were telling me that is the kind of love your heart requires. Ai! I have been a blind fool!" He rose and paced around his study, fuming at his flawed parenting. "So much have I hoped for grandchildren that I would not allow myself to understand you. Legolas, your Adar is a selfish idiot. Can you forgive this oversight?" Distraught for many reasons, the King faced his sole heir with both remorse and sadness.

"Ada!" Legolas at once jumped up and ran to his father, encircling him in strong arms and laying his head upon the broad shoulders. "Of course I can forgive it. I am sorry about the elflings; can you forgive that?"

"Bah! Elboron has an abundance of grandchildren already and they are always underfoot in the stronghold. What have I to miss?" he embraced Legolas and then held him out before him. "Your happiness is everything to me. We will find the right mate for you."

"Thank you, Ada!" Legolas whooped and raced to the desk, snatching up a quill and parchment. "Let us prepare a list of eligible suitors."

"Patience!" exhorted Thranduil. "You are an elf of such high standing, in addition to your attractive appearance and noble character, that we must be cautious. Many will have interest but for base reasons. I will not see your heart wounded."

"Ada, I would not name anyone who would treat me so," objected Legolas. He lowered himself into his Ada's chair behind the desk, unwilling to forego preparing his roster of candidates.

"Forgive me, ion, but you are entirely naive in this regard. You think everyone is motivated by good. Permit me some time to make inquiries and investigate the prospects I deem worthy of your attention; then we will compare your list and mine."

"But, Ada, I " Legolas was interrupted by a brusque knock on the door, not the one opening into the corridor of the King's private suite but the one leading out to his council chambers, offices, and the throne room.

The King admitted his seneschal, Galion, who bowed in apology upon seeing Legolas with his Lord.

"Forgive me, Legolas, Aranen, but the delegates have arrived from Dale and bring unexpected visitors along. I fear your presence is required, Hîren."

"What visitors?" demanded Thranduil.

"Folk from Imladris, Aranen," Galion intoned with appropriate dramatic flair. The surprise on the royals' faces was gratifying and he nodded sagely,answering the next query before it could be voiced. "The twin Peredhil Lords and a human, possibly some page or distant kinsman who attends them."

"Unexpected, indeed," groused Thranduil, settling his hand on Legolas' shoulder to prevent his arising from the seat, anticipating the excited curiosity this would generate in his son's thoughts. "Nay, you need not participatein this audience, especially so underdressed. If they remain, you will have ample opportunity to meet them soon enough." He bent and pressed a kiss upon Legolas' forehead, regretting the abrupt end of their talk but unable to avoid it. "Forgive me, we will resume our discussion on the morrow."

"Surely it will not take all the day to see to this," protested Legolas, though he knew it probably would. "I will remain here that we may continue once you are free."

"I am sorry, ion," Thranduil sighed as he followed Galion to the door. "It very well may. You have waited this long, one more day can be endured, yes?" He smiled from the threshold, hand on the latch.

"Aye," Legolas forced a smile and the door closed. With a heavy heart he set aside his quill and pushed the parchment from him, slouching in the chair. Of course he understood; the delegation from Dale was important and negotiations with the men were always prickly and delicate undertakings. He knew from past years that often Thranduil was pushed beyond exasperation by their demands and the conference dragged on for weeks. His heart had no choice but to wait.

"But I am so very lonely," he whispered to the empty room and buried his head upon his arms.

TBC


Glossary:

Ernilen - My Prince

Elboron - Brave Star

toradar - brother-father, uncle

torion - brother-son, nephew

ellon - male elf

elleth - female elf

Cemendur - Servant of the Earth

Carnil - Red Star

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.