Warnings: Slash! Sauron a bit OOC. What if. Slightly AU.

Disclaimer: see Prologue and Chapter One.

Author's Note: I played a bit with Legolas' age, he is younger, about one hundred years old. And he is more "pure" than usual. And please, keep in mind Sauron is OOC, but some parts of his temper are the same!

My apologies if I took this much to update my story! But I am writing it and translating it, and that requires time.

Feedback: Yes, please! I'd love to know what do you think about my story! But please, be gentle!

Thanks to everybody who r/r, added to favourites, to alerts… I am grateful! And thanks to my Beta-Reader greywings2!

2. Because he was amused.

Sauron opened his eyes slowly. Flames of the candles on the walls danced with the breeze blowing through the window. It was now evening and the stars were peeking through the clouds.

He examined the room. It was wide and well ventilated. Typically Elven. The walls were covered with tapestries, representing the armies of those who were part of the Last Alliance. He recognized them immediately. It was good that no one knew his true face.

The only ones that could perhaps find out, were now few. Surely Elrond, Glorfindel, Galadriel, Celeborn and Thranduil, were the only ones old enough to have met him in the guise of Annatar, when he attempted to deceive the Elves. The others were either killed in battle or had sailed to Valinor.

After he was unmasked by Gil-Galad, the war was started and lost. At the end, he had to hole up in Mordor and had not gone out anymore. His eyes had begun to change color from brooded anger, which devoured him from within like a fire that never went out, and from the mutilation he had suffered when part of his soul had been torn along the Ring.

However, the only real danger was now the King of Mirkwood, but he would probably not deign to grant him a hearing. If he did, he could always subdue him and change memories about his features. A transformed memory remained such, and could hardly resurface, especially if mind was weak. The effort would consume much of his energy since he was now deprived of the Ring, but he had no choice.

He sighed in resignation then, and turned around. Beside the bed where he was laying, there was a bedside table with a pitcher, goblet and a box that seemed to contain bandages and other medicines. His sword was lying on a table. On one of the chairs, his robe was carefully folded. Sauron turned to his waist and noticed that his shoulder had been bandaged. He tried to move his arm and he was deliver a stich of pain.

Sauron was immortal, but he could still be hurt and feel pain, though his wounds healed quickly, even faster than Elves'. Without the One Ring, however, he felt very vulnerable. Fortunately, as long as the jewel existed, he could preserve his magic, although it greatly reduced. And if that was destroyed, he would simply become an Elf like everyone else.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted. Legolas had just entered the room, with a smile, and approached the bed.

"You're up, I'm happy!" the Elf exclaimed. "You fainted when we took you here. You had lost much blood..." he said, then with a small voice and obvious embarrassment he added. "I'm sorry I took your tunic off, but I had to bandage the wound. And I'm sorry I cut part of your pants to bind the leg..."

"Was it you that healed me?" Sauron asked, without looking away from the Elf.

He nodded. "You will be given other clothes, as soon as you are better..."

"Do not worry, I'm not angry. I could not be. You saved my life, you took me here, going against your People. I hope this will not create trouble." Sauron said excitedly.

Legolas shook his head. "No, I talked with my Father and my elder brother. They are making an exception, because you're an Elf, and because I took responsibility for your actions. You can stay here while you're injured, but then you need to leave. And..." he paused, throwing a quick glance at the sword on the table. "Obviously you will remain unarmed."

"Obviously," Sauron repeated. "So, why is my weapon still there?" He added with a faint smile.

"Because..." Legolas bit his lip and looked down. "I dared to remove it from the scabbard and observe it...I have never seen a weapon that was not forged by Elves..."

"Who says that it is not?" Sauron asked abruptly, stiffening and letting the smile fade.

"I..." the younger male stepped back at the sudden change of mood of the interlocutor, always looking down. "I'm sorry, I should not have, I know that a weapon is sacred to his owner."

Sauron frowned. Where was the indomitable courage that had been shown with Nimtiriel a short while ago? Perhaps, Legolas felt confident only with his subordinates? No, the reason was different. He felt hesitation from the young one, which is what one could have with a person they just met, and insecurity, as if he were not used to talking in a context outside of Court Ceremonial and afraid to say or do something wrong.

"No, forgive me." Sauron finally said. "Hold the sword if you desire, and watch how much you want. Anyway, you are only half right. I've been forging my weapon."

Legolas raised his head and stared. "Really? Are you a blacksmith?" He asked with the curiosity of a child.

"Something like that, yes," Sauron answered, unable to hold back a laugh. He had forged that sword recently since his old weapons were only too familiar. He had forged something else, so many centuries ago ...

"It's wonderful! The inlays are so elaborate! But it is not only beautiful on the outside. It is perfectly balanced, and it is also very light, and the blade is the sharpest!" Legolas continued with enthusiasm. "But why am I only half-right?" he asked suddenly, forgetting the transport of before.

"I'm glad you appreciate my work. Anyway, to answer your question, I am a Half-Elf," Sauron said with a slight smile.

"Amazing! Your features are identical to an Elf's!" Legolas said, talking without taking breath. "I met only another Half-Elf, Elrond. Have you ever met him?"

The Dark Lord stiffened, hearing that name. Yes, he had known him, and not in pleasant circumstances. "No," He said finally, shaking his head. "I could have chosen to remain Mortal, or to preserve my Immortality. I opted for the second choice." He sighed, then continued. It cost him to lie to Legolas, but there was no other way. If he wanted to be accepted and not be feared, this was the only other option." My mother was Mortal, and my Father was an Elf. He hid my birth to your People. I never knew whether from pride or shame. In any case, when my mother was alive he came to visit and taught me to fight and speak Elvish. After her death, I left the village where I grew up and never saw my Father again. Men envied me, because I remained forever young. Elves despised me, because I am not considered their equal. So I decided to wander around Middle-Earth in solitude, hiding my identity. When we first met, it was simply one of my pilgrimage. I feared being attacked when I found out that someone was near, and without realizing it, I got too close to your borders. I was very careless..."

Legolas approached and put a thin hand on his shoulder. "This is very sad... but I do not understand... Elrond is a Half-Elf, and he is loved and respected by all. Why are you not granted the same?"

"This is what I've always wondered..." Sauron said, glancing towards the Elf. "I guess for your Elrond situation was different. But now I can not get answers. My Father sailed for Valinor. From that day on, I have regretted my choice to remain immortal. This world does not want me, I am an aberration..." The last sentence was the only truth, among other falsehoods, he thought bitterly. And then, he wished that he was not. He did not feel worthy to stay near the Elf, not after having lied so shamelessly.

Legolas started, bringing him back to reality. He sat on the bed and took Sauron's hand into his, wetting it with tears. This was not the effect sought. He had made him cry. He had made that sweet creature cry, and for what? For a well-concocted lie.

"Do not shed tears for me," Sauron whispered guiltily, raising the non-injured arm and gently wiping the younger Elf's face with his thumb.

"How can I not?" The other said, sobbing. "You did not deserve this. Years and years of loneliness, forced to grope for Middle-Earth without a fixed dwelling, with no one to feel love for you..." The sentence died in his throat.

"Please, my Prince, I do not want your pity," he said, trying to rise from bed, but in vain.

Legolas noticed it, and immediately helped him sit. "Please do not call me that... simply call me Legolas..."

Sauron smiled bitterly. "And you can simply call me Golwen." He sighed, then changed topic, hoping to stop that crying. "You have not yet said why you helped me."

The Elf looked down and wiped his tears with the back of the sleeve, while the other hand was still holding Sauron's. "Because... I could not let you die... it would not have been fair..." he stammered.

This was not an answer. He knew there was something else. He clearly could feel the tumult in the Elf's heart. He brought his face close to the young. Thus, he could feel his breath, now irregular, and his face gave off heat, red with embarrassment for such closeness. "Why?" He repeated, in a peremptory tone.

"I ..." Legolas began, backing away slightly and leaving Sauron's hand. "I guess… because you did not deserve to die. You did nothing wrong. You were simply too close to the border, but without bad intentions..."

"How can you be sure? Mirkwood guards did not seem to be trusting of your own opinion," Sauron whispered, his face still close, bridging the gap just created. It was the first time that someone addressed similar words. He did not have bad intentions? He had entered the Kingdom by fraud, had concealed his identity, told a false story. How naive could this little Elf be? But then he asked himself: what if he's right? What if there was still something good in him, and only Legolas could see it? If only he were truly watching him and Sauron found out that he could still be saved. If he could find out that there was a hope...

"I..." he murmured, this time standing still. "Your eyes are not evil." throwing a quick glance.

Sauron could not resist. He laughed, and sank into bed. He laughed heartily, without malice, simply because he wanted to. Because he was amused.

"Did I say something wrong?" Legolas whispered, if possible even more embarrassed.

The other shook his head. "No, just..." He reached out and touched his red cheek. "Your purity is disarming... If you had asked Sauron to not forge the One Ring, he could not." He did not know why he had pronounced that sentence. Would it have been really so? If Legolas had asked him to give up all his Power, would he have gone along?

But he did not know the answer. He only knew that he now wanted to gain the other's trust, be accepted as he was, and not be judged for the name he carried and the deeds committed in the past. And perhaps one day be loved, even if Legolas would only love the character he created. Anyway, in retrospect, his story was not entirely invented. It was true that he was hiding. It was true that he was alone. Who knows, if he told the truth, maybe he would be forgiven. Maybe.

"Do not tease me," Legolas whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

Sauron's hand was still resting on his cheek. The Elf didn't withdraw, and this made him smile. "I would never… I understand why your Father does not want you to come out of Mirkwood. Your heart is too clear for this corrupt world. Obviously he does not want it to be dirtied by people with unworthy hands. They would tear it from your chest and they would break it, and once satisfied, they would give it back to you irremediably tainted..." He repented of his sentence. It was too harsh, in fact, he felt the Elf shaking with a chill.

"I am sorry, it was too cruel a image..." Sauron shook his head, guilty, lowering his hand. Basically he wanted that heart, and eagerly.

"No, I'm fine," Legolas whispered. "I have always thought that my Father considered me too inexperienced and silly to survive out of Mirkwood. I have never taken a trip..." he left half the sentence, sadness overcame him. He wished to travel more than anything else. Curiosity was a feature that he had had since childhood.

Sauron noticed it and said "No, my young friend, I think you're wrong. Your Father thinks you're not a fool. He trusted your opinion of me, right?" He waited for a nod of Legolas, then he continued. "He does not doubt your insight, and he knows that you would never put at risk your people by letting a foreigner with bad intentions in, even if overcome by compassion. I am sure he was very proud to see you animated and firm in your position. You behaved like a Prince." He cursed himself for each word. It was all a lie, and if Legolas discovered the truth, he would not be given peace for letting the Dark Lord cross the borders of Mirkwood.

"Sometimes I do not want to be a Prince," Legolas whispered. "If I was not, I would be free to go where I wish..."

"No, I don't think so. Your Father would not love you less if you were not a Prince, and would not stop worrying and take care of you." He turned his head sadly at the window. "Also, look at me! I can go where I wish, but do I look happy about this?" No, another lie. He was not free to go wherever he wanted. He was also one of the many prisoners of Mordor. However, the Elf's prison was the opposite of his.

Legolas stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "You're right, forgive me. I spoke out of turn. I should not despise my luck. My Father, my brother and my People love me, and only want the best for me. It's just that people are so condescending to me... no one dares to contradict me and they don't speak frankly. It seems that they deem me too fragile as a glass doll... But you... you talk to me as my equal, but not with presumption. You do not look for my favour or my Father and my brother's favour. You do not treat me like a Prince..." he finished the sentence with a shy smile. The redness had spread to the tips of his ears.

No, Sauron did not care about the privileges of the Court. It was not what he wanted. He just wanted Legolas. If the Elf had been a Prince or a beggar, it would be the same. He wanted only to protect that heart, and avoid being hurt. But could he protect Legolas from himself? He shook his head. Fate did not lack a sense of humour. Legolas was not contradicted because of too much love. Sauron because of too much hate.

"Not really fragile," he said, smiling. "You have shown me that you are strong. I would not be here otherwise. I would say... How can I make you understand..." he paused, to look for the right words. "Imagine a white sheet. Imagine that for fear of being dirty, it is always kept in a closet. Then one day, the closet is opened, and the sheet used. Imagine it being stained with ink. The sheet is still intact, but the stain is still there. It can be washed, but it will never be as white as before." He laughed to himself at that example, which was simply ridiculous. He was not addressing to a child! He was talking like one of those desperate women when they could not remove the stain from fabrics.

"However, the sheet can not always stay in the closet... it could feel useless..." Legolas whispered. At least he liked the example, apparently.

"Then the sheet should convince his owner that is ready to be used..." Sauron smiled.

"How?"

"With patience. And showing that you can be alright alone in any situation. You are still young, Legolas. It is normal that you want to explore unknown lands. But believe me, this world is not that much. You have not lost anything worth seeing. Your Father knows, and he wants to spare you disappointment." Sauron ended bitterly.

"But there are still wonderful places... Elrond told me about Imladris... and I heard tales about Lothlorien..." Legolas said with dreamy eyes.

"They have nothing that you do not have here..." the other replied, shaking his head.

"Well, you agree with my Father! Both of you want to ruin my fun of exploring Middle-Earth!" The younger whispered with a sullen air.

Sauron smiled. "Not at all. I am so disillusioned, because I saw much, too much, to believe that there is still something untouched..." and he would have added "Until I met you... " But he kept this sentence for himself.

"So why not sail to Valinor?" the Elf asked.

"Because I do not wish to meet my Father, again," Sauron explained, cutting the sentence. "Anyway, I'm still waiting for your reply. Why did you save me?"

"I answered..." Legolas said with a questioning gaze.

"It was not the answer your heart wanted to give me," Sauron sneered.

"Well... I told you, I never left the Kingdom..." Then he corrected himself, remembering a few hours ago. "Or at least I never strayed too far... You are the first foreigner I have seen and that I have not met in the Court, in its rigid ceremonial, and who is not a friend of my Father. I was terribly intrigued at first. Then, when I realized you were in danger, I just acted instinctively..." the Elf sighed. It seemed that the other could read his mind.

He almost guessed right. Sauron, after the loss of the Ring, could feel the emotions in others' hearts and snatch some shred of thought. He used this ability without hesitation, of course. He did not need a spell, it was simply one of his senses, much like how one could taste or touch, so he did not waste precious energy. It was a natural thing for him.

"See? It was not that difficult..."Sauron said with a grin, amused.

Legolas smiled back, a smile that left him stunned. The light that the Elf emanated at that time was clear and dazzling. Pure joy invaded him, while those thin lips arched, revealing precious dimples that were so tender and sweet.

As a first meeting, it had gone beyond Sauron's wildest expectations. Sure, he was wounded, and that Nimtiriel had irritated him, but Legolas began to trust him, he warned him clearly. He was surprised how much the Elf appreciated the side that was rather despised by others. His piercing tongue. It was true, he was harsh, and again Legolas was embarrassed, but he was not bothered, disturbed or frightened. He rather liked his frankness and answered back with sincerity. He was also surprised how he managed to keep his voice calm and peaceful, at least almost always.

He had dreamed of their first encounter many times, and all ended with Legolas terrified in a corner, and with himself so irritated that raised his voice too much, or that he 'mistakenly' killed someone in anger. But none of this had happened. His fears of losing control were unfounded. The Elf, apparently, had a beneficial effect on him. His closeness was enough to pacify his spirit.

Everything was going in the best way, Sauron repeated to himself.

Suddenly, someone knocked at the door. Legolas got out of bed and went to open it. Sauron was angry when he saw the Elf away. He wanted to take him by the wrist and bring Legolas closer to himself, hug him, and still see that sweet blush on his cheeks appear...

He sighed and shook his head as if to calm himself, then leaned toward the table with his intact arm to pour water into the goblet.

"I came to take the sword and make sure the of injured's conditions. I do not understand why you did not want to entrust him to me ... do you not trust my skills as a healer anymore?" A deep and warm voice said. It did not sound like an Elf's voice, but a Man's. And indeed he was. He had dark brown hair and a hint of a beard, and eyes of a very light blue, almost grey. But he was wearing Elven clothing. Sauron began to drink casually, looking at the intruder with an annoyed gaze, then he started to watch the beloved Elf.

The Man suddenly encircled Legolas' waist and kissed him tenderly on his cheek. The other blushed, and replied with a shy and quick kiss on the lips. With this, the Elf went away from him to take the sword and give it to his mate. But his arm was in midair. Something distracted him.