A/N: Well hello look what we have here! Another Legolas fic that no one asked for!

I cannot pretend that this will be wholly true to Tolkein lore and I certainly will not try to fool you into thinking this is canon. I have, however, done my best to mimic a somewhat realistic political fray, and characterise Tolkein's creations as canon as I can. (Honestly all I'm going off is one line in the Hobbit about Thranduil's crown and all the parts in LOTR where Legolas sings about things)

So here you go! Please read and review (You don't have to enjoy it if you don't want to. I won't mind.)

Dawn broke bright and early with a furious hammering at Ashryn's door.

She ignored it at first, electing to burrow further beneath her covers, and the banging ceased for a brief moment before returning with increasing intensity. "Ashryn!" Came a muffled shout through the wooden door, and she groaned out loud before she half tumbled out of bed, pulling on a robe and staggering down the stairs bleary-eyed, a hand on the wall for support.

"All right, all right, I'm coming! I'm coming!" Kicking aside a stray chair, she belted her robe before pushing up the bolt. "There had better be a damn good reason why you're hamme -" she stumbled to a halt.

There, upon the small bridge which separated her quarters from the others in the area, stood her uncle's protégée, Cassian, along with the crown prince of the woodland realm, supporting between the two of them an unconscious ellon, his face stark white and trickling blood from his mouth. The prince gave an impatient tilt of his head. "Yes, I do suppose this is important enough to warrant a visit, my lady. Just be grateful I hammered, and didn't break it down."

"Duly," Ashryn muttered but stood aside to let them in, sweeping the tabletop clean and rushing to her herbs cabinet as she rolled up her sleeves. "Lay him here. What happened?"

"A stray orc pack," Cassian was breathing hard as he wiped a strand of dark hair off his face, peeling up the ellon's tunic to reveal a gaping slice across his chest, still oozing dark blood. The veins surrounding the wound were prominent and a poisonous black green, spreading slowly but steadily across his skin.

Ashryn inhaled sharply as she gently pressed against the skin, feeling the heat radiating off it. "Do you have the blade?"

Cassian looked at her blankly. "The blade?"

"Yes, you tree-nut, the blade, the one that he was sliced with? What was on it?"

Legolas shook his head. "We were focused on getting him back as quick as possible. Can you save him?"

Ashryn ignored the question. "Here, go and fill these with water – clean !" She shoved three bowls into Cassian's hands and pointed towards the door. He stumbled to obey. "My lord, in that cabinet there, there are needles and thread. I need you to start a fire and heat up the needle."

Cassian returned quickly, setting down the bowl on the table beside the injured elf. She dampened a cloth before gently wiping around the edges of the wound, slowly revealing the grotesque damage done by the orc. The slice wasn't deep, but it was large, and dealt by a jagged blade, no doubt rusted as well as coated with poison. The bowls of water quickly turned murky as a fire leapt up in the corner of the room. The wound smelt sickly sweet.

"Do you know what was on the sword?" Cassian asked as he set down another bowl of clean water.

"Put a cool cloth on his face," Ashryn instructed in reply as the elf moaned in pain, shifting slightly. "And I'm going to need both of you to hold him down."

The prince set the heated needle beside her, nodding briefly. "Do what you must."

The poison was from a common type of lily, easily acquired by orcs. Sweet smelling once crushed and boiled, it was lethal once congested, and extraordinarily dangerous if left in a wound. It was, however, curable. Not easily done, but possible. She hurried to her cabinet, taking pinches of this and drips of that, mixing them together into a chunky, brownish paste that both ellons turned up their noses at.

"Oh get a grip," Ashryn snapped. Carefully, she added water until it formed a thin liquid, and used the solution to wash the wound again. Rivulets of dirty water running off onto the tabletop were dutifully wiped up by Cassian, the colour still leeched from his face. "Needle," She ordered, settling at the edge of the table. "Hold his arms and legs, please."

The ellon had regained some semblance of consciousness, and was breathing raggedly in pain, the whites of his eyes showing beneath the slits of his eyes as Ashryn threaded the needle. "Deep breaths now," she murmured to him softly, "you'll be alright." He hissed as she punctured the tender skin around the wound, but did not cry out. Beside her, Legolas and Cassian held him steady. She worked quickly. Although she was less of a healer and more of an expert in poisons and herbs, she had received standard training with weapons, and moreover, any growing elfling had been taught the skill of holding a sharp object steadily. Time blurred into inhales and exhales as Ashryn sewed together the gash.

If any of her companions spoke, Ashryn did not register them, or even the weak thrashings of his limbs as she neared the edge of the wound, leaning over him slightly to tie the thread and snip off the end. "There." Swapping the needle for a roll of thick white bandages, Ashryn nodded to the two elves to release him. "Sit him up, please. Gently! You'll tear the stitches!"

In a matter of minutes, the wound was bound, the bottles of herbs were set away, along with her sewing devices and bandages. The injured ellon was passed out on the tabletop, and Cassian had collapsed onto a chair. The prince leaned against her window, his quiver of arrows sitting at his feet. Ashryn tugged her robe closer together as she rolled her sleeves back down, settling against the side of her dining table. "I do believe an explanation is owed,' she commented mildly.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Oh, don't try to fool me, my lord. You come here with a near fatally injured soldier, at the crack of dawn, all of you insufficiently armoured, when you know perfectly well you gave a report last night concerning the lack of orc presence in the woods. Also, you came to me, instead of the healers on the other side of the city – meaning you want this dealt with quietly. And I assure you, I can be silent as the grave… if you tell me what's going on."

"Everyone knows you're the expert concerning poisons," Cassian shrugged.

Ashryn chuckled. "My uncle taught you many things, old friend, but lying isn't one of them. Is this the result of an impromptu excursion outside the borders I'm seeing here? An unauthorised one which our king would be outraged to know of? Especially since it could easily have been his only heir lying prone on my tabletop, having very nearly had his heart cut open?" She shot a challenging look at the prince, whose jaw tightened slightly.

"What of it?"

"Oh, I couldn't care less. But when I end up with a dead courtier on by tabletop with no way to explain it? That's where the problem is."

"Lady Ashryn -" Legolas started to protest, but Cassian cut him off.

"What do you want."

"Sorry?"

Her friend ran a hand through his hair. "What do you want out of it? In return?"

Ashryn narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. "Do you think I am that shallow, Cassian?"

"You can have my horse if you really wanted," he offered, "or perhaps my boots? I know how much you like those."

"This is not the time," Legolas ground out. "My lady, will my solemn oath account for our agreement? My word that your involvement will remain always secret, in return for your services should the time come?"

She frowned. "Barring the immense probability that you will not be able to keep your… escapades a secret, this still appears to be a terrible exchange."

"Are you really that shallow?" A hint of a teasing grin played at the edges of the prince's mouth.

"Fine," she growled, sticking out her hand. "We have an accord." They shook briefly, and Ashryn placed her hands on her hips. "Now, help me move him."

"Move him where?" Cassian lifted his head from the table, poking his comrade gently on the calf. "Shouldn't he stay still?"

Ashryn mock clapped him. "Oh, words of wisdom! He should, but not on this surface. And also for sake of secrecy," she shot a look at Legolas, "if anyone comes knocking, I'd rather not have an unconscious warrior, prince or not, on my kitchen table."

"Where would you rather have him, then?"

Ashryn jerked her head towards the narrow staircase around the side of the room. "Bedroom."

Cassian looked at her blankly. "Your bedroom?"

"No, you doofus, the guest bedroom!"

"Oh." Cassian looked down and back up. "What if someone comes visiting?"

"Well," Ashryn stared down imperiously at him, "bedroom's a lot easier to explain than dining table, isn't it?"

"Oh."

"Yes indeed," Legolas mused lightly, "it would be easy to explain. To his wife."

Ashryn spun to him, continuing in exactly the same tone. "Well, then somebody had better make sure that situations are suitably explained to his wife then, shouldn't they?" She checked his temperature quickly before straightening, tugging once again at the robe. "He'll be here for three days at most. She's welcome to visit."

"No," Legolas cut in. "It's too suspicious to have people coming and going from here when they shouldn't be. We'll find you to check up on his situation. Cassian." Each carefully taking a half of the wounded ellon's body, the two inched towards the staircase, Ashryn leading the way.

"Watch his head!" She warned as they began the curving ascent, Cassian maneuvering his comrade's upper half and narrowing missing scalping him against the rough wood. "Slowly! If you tear his stitches, then you'll find yourself short a healer to stitch the pieces of you back together! Cassian! For the love of Eru, slow down! No, not that room, that's mine! The other one!"

Cassian shouldered open the door which opened into a small chamber, lit with several small round windows and furnished with just a bed along with a closet. A clump of flowers hung on the door, drying and perfuming the room slightly. Leaves drooped over the windows. When Legolas stood to his full height, he head-butted a lantern swinging from the roof, and looked quite offended.

"The ceiling is the height of two grown men, and yet you have a lantern hanging so low?"

"That's the highest I can reach," Ashryn deadpanned. "Set him down."

They did so slightly clumsily, Cassian tripping over the foot of the bed as he did so. "Alright now, if you would be so kind to acquire some of his clothes and belongings and all that stuff sometime today, I'd be most grateful. Now get out. Your highness."

Looking a bit uncertain, the two elves shot a glance at each other and their friend before filing out obediently, following each other down the stairs. "I'll send something along," Legolas nodded at her as Cassian pushed open the door. "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome, my lord," Ashryn dipped her head. "And get some ice for that ankle."

He blinked a bit uncertainly at her, glancing down quickly. "There's nothi -" He sighed. "Aye, my lady," the prince muttered under his breath with a bit of a smile before shutting the door.

Ashryn turned, falling back against the wooden surface as it shut, tipping her head back to rest against the cool timber as she surveyed her living room. Bandages were strewn haphazardly over her table, rivulets of brown water still dripping steadily onto the floor. She had never been the cleanest worker, Ashryn thought ruefully as she pushed off the door.

There was an unconscious warrior in her guest room, carnage in her living room, and she had an inkling of suspicion that she just might be the one who would take the fall for this whole fiasco.

(Princes and protégées never do, anyhow.)