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!
Changed the rating from T to M!

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 silverfirefox1989!

5. We could not be more dissimilar.

Legolas nodded to the question.

A Dúnadan ... this changed everything. Sauron had been chasing Isildur's heir for so long, and he was now one step away from him. Certainly, Estel had to know the future King of Gondor's identity. After such a long wait, here's the answer. Finally he would kill his most deadly enemy. He could still remember the feeling he had when Isildur had snatched his Ring. He felt cut in half, as if a part of his soul had been taken away. And now, he had the opportunity to avenge himself. Once his successor died, his vengeance would be complete, and the last Hope of Men and Elves would vanish.

Hope... the name "Estel" meant hope. Was it possible that he had Isildur's Heir before his eyes without realizing it? He had imagined someone different, someone better. Estel did not look like a King. He was dressed in precious clothes, he had a solemn demeanour, a kind face. But he was not a King, he did not behave like one. He seemed like someone who wanted to sneak in the shadows like a thief, rather than have all the attention on himself. Sauron had realized it, because the Mortal wanted to avoid openly showing his tie with Legolas. Another Man would have gladly accepted everyone's admiration and envy, and would have raised the Elf as a trophy. But he remained silent in a corner. Sure, there was no hesitation in effusions, during their first meeting, but only because he considered Sauron as a threat and he felt the need to mark his territory. But what if it was Estel's trick to conceal his true identity? After all, he had spent his whole life trying to hide from Sauron, fearing his spies everywhere. It was natural for that Man to have such secrecy. Yet he could not. In short, why should he be afraid of Estel? A person who seemed of such low value?

No, he would ask his questions at the right time, when he would have to reveal who the true King of Gondor was. And if he were, then Sauron would feel even more pleasure in exacting his vengeance.

Sauron interrupted the thoughts racing through his mind, and asked, "Why is his name Elvish?"

"Because he was raised by Elves, in Imladris," Legolas said with a smile.

Elrond...yes. That Elf seemed determined to stop him in any way. In the past, during the War against the Last Alliance. Now, giving asylum to a Dúnadan.

"And does Estel come here often to visit you?" Sauron asked.

"No, not often. He came only to bring a prisoner," Legolas said, then he bit his lip. He had spoken too much.

Sauron raised an eyebrow. "What prisoner?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nothing important..."

"I thought your people did not take prisoners," the other male insisted.

"It 's so, but this one had to be kept alive," the young Elf murmured.

"Like me?" Sauron said.

"Do not compare yourself to him ... your cases are completely different," Legolas whispered.

"Well, let me know if I am destined to the dark cells of Mirkwood," he said.

"Of course you're not," the Elf muttered.

The talk was so quick that Sauron needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts. A prisoner to keep alive? Be questioned? Be preserved? It seemed interesting, and worth more. But he decided not to investigate any further. The Elf looked uncomfortable, and would probably not reveal any other information, at least for now. Moreover, if he insisted too much, Legolas might get suspicious. He would not subjugate him to get information. He wanted it all real between them.

Sauron sighed and glanced at the floor. "Those were for me?" He asked, pointing to clothing and books that lay forgotten on the carpet.

The Elf nodded and rushed to collect them. "Yes, I thought you'd be bored here, all alone ... and that it was not decent to leave you without tunic and cut leggings," he ended with embarrassment, approaching and putting the books on the nightstand.

"You are kind," Sauron said, extending a hand to take the offered clothes.

They were of Elven make, not decorated as Legolas', of course, but he was a Prince. They were still very beautiful, dark green leggings and a slightly lighter tunic. The colors of Mirkwood.

Legolas looked down and went near the window. He remained turned to give the other male a bit of privacy while changing his clothes.

Sauron could not suppress a grin, while pushing away the blanket and slowly rose.

He kept the weight on his uninjured leg, and clung to the bedpost so he would not lose his balance, and began to take off his leggings, showing his backside.

He wondered whether the Elf was watching him, but judging by a strong emotion like a hot flash, he thought so. He grinned again. Apparently, little Legolas was too much curious.

He took the new leggings off of the bed, turned slowly, and then sat down.

The Elf must have suddenly turned to the window, because when Sauron glanced at him, he seemed intent on the view.

He put the leggings at his thighs and stood up again, taking care not to carry the weight on the wound leg. He finished putting them on and closed the laces. It was extremely frustrating to do everything with two limbs less.

"You'll have to give me a hand with that," Sauron said, pointing to the tunic on the bed. "I still cannot move my arm well."

"Yes, of course," the Elf whispered, turning red in his face and rushed to his side.

He took the tunic and unbuttoned it. Then, the young male went behind him and slowly began to slip the tunic on by Sauron's arms.

Finally, he went in front of him and gently gathered the edges of fabric together to button them.

Legolas was so close ... he kept looking down, concentrating on the buttons, his cheeks still pink. Sauron, at that moment, wished he was caressing his cheeks. That color, incredible to say, made the Elf's face even more charming.

He wanted to bring his own face, lift the young male's chin and touching his lips with his own. But then he would want more.

Fortunately, the trousers were loose enough not to show any change in his body, Sauron thought.

His hand moved involuntarily. It rose slowly, and it was approaching the Elf's cheek. Two fingers brushed the fair skin. It was so silky to his touch.

Legolas lifted his head up, looking at him quizzically, and the Dark Lord instantly lowered his arm. Those blue eyes had brought him to reality and he felt his excitement suddenly decrease. He saw the scene change. He saw the two of them fall on the bed, as before, but also saw Legolas struggling to push him away with his slender hands, terrified, but Sauron kept going because he had gone too far to stop. He felt disgusted with himself. He did not want Legolas fearing his touch. He did not want to scare him. He did not want to make all his efforts fruitless. He wanted to have his heart, as well as his body.

"Thanks," Then he muttered, looking away.

"It was nothing," The Elf said, a few steps away and looking Golwen from head to foot. "Now you look like a resident of Mirkwood!" He exclaimed.

"No, I never will be," Sauron said, smiling before he bridged the distance between them limping. Then he drew a lock of black hair to the other male's golden mane. "Look. We could not be more dissimilar."

"They ... they are beautiful," Legolas whispered smiling softly.

Sauron sensed a turmoil in the Elf's heart. Fear? Shame? Desire? He could not decipher.

The Dark Lord was unsure whether Legolas was scared. But he was careful not to be rude this time, to keep a calm tone of voice. His behaviour was surprising himself. Therefore, he hoped that Legolas was not scared.

The Elf's embarrassment was pretty obvious. He avoided his gaze, trying to keep a certain distance. But why? Because Legolas had seen him naked? Or because Sauron had touched his cheek?

As for desire... Sauron could not give an answer. It was clear that he was not a completely repugnant sight, but what did Legolas think of his appearance?

So, no longer able to hold back his interest, he said, "Something troubles you, my young friend?"

The Elf shook his head, "No, I... it is because," he stammered, impatient. "I'm not used... only Estel... stays... so close to me," he lied. He could not tell Golwen that he was embarrassed because he had seen him naked in secret! Or worse, because...

Sauron raised his eyebrows and tried to maintain a calm tone, "We were not doing anything wrong, you just helped a poor wounded person to dress. Forget it."

Legolas nodded. Slowly he looked up and crossed his gaze with Sauron's, as if seeking further reassurance.

The Elf began to wonder if Estel was not right. When Golwen had brushed his cheek, he felt his skin catch on fire. He wanted to take Golwen's hand in his own, and begin to taste those fingers one by one in his mouth, leaving his tongue twisting between them like a spiral... Why that sudden gesture? And most importantly, why did something so simple cause that reaction in Legolas?

He had also turned to observe the Half-Elf changing his clothes... why? He was so confused and embarrassed! He was in love with Estel! But then, why did it seem like he had cheated on him? Why did he feel the desire to look at another male?

Legolas thought suddenly of that naked body. Golwen had a skin so smooth and pale as milk. When he touched it to change his bandages, he had felt his softness. A chill shot through him as he proceeded to mentally to retrace each line of that body.

Those arms, with hints of muscles. Those shoulders, so broad and strong, ending in a waist thinner than his own.

And then, when Golwen removed his leggings, he felt his lips dry up and the urgency to lick them with his tongue. He remembered how much he had fought himself, undecided whether to continue watching or turn around. In the end, he gave in and chose the first option.

The view was amazing. The cloth had slipped away, and had released long, sinuous legs. When Golwen bent down to take the new leggings, his buttocks had pushed out slightly, highlighting how solid they should be. At that point, Legolas felt his leggings get tighter, and he thanked the Valar for choosing to wear a large tunic that reached his knees.

Afterwards, he had suddenly turned around to avoid detection. But he found out he did it with great reluctance. He wanted to continue watching, and make every detail, every little curve of Golwen's body just his. He moved with grace, despite his injuries.

His body was so different from Estel's. He was beautiful, sure, but Golwen was smooth and slender, more like the Elves' aesthetics, being half-elven, and solid for his human part, Legolas supposed.

The young male imagined how he would feel to be encircled by those arms without layers and layers of clothes to separate them. He saw it in his mind, while Golwen embraced him, and he relished the contact with white skin and rested his own head on Golwen's chest, listening to his heart beating. And he thought about how nice it would be to have those hands slide along his body, making way through the clothes, slowly driving him insane and wanting more and more of his caresses... after, feeling that touch down at his sides, first gentle, then vigorous ... and suddenly feeling his strong grip on his buttocks... Legolas shook his head furiously. He could not go further, he loved Estel!

But it was not just that ... a few more moments of those greedy thoughts, and he would beg Golwen to take him instantly. He could not resist this feeling of dissatisfaction... but he decided to calm down. He had to calm down. He could not afford the Half-Elf to notice his reaction. It would have been too obvious that Legolas had spied him.

He prayed with all his might that Golwen had not realized it. He would certainly be angered by this violation of privacy.

And when the Half-Elf was so close, the young male was troubled, as if afraid of ever saying or doing the wrong thing. But it was quite logical, he admitted. The only people he did not follow the etiquette of the Court with were his family and Estel. And sometimes even with them he could not abstain.

Golwen, however, was so free from all that stiffness. And he was right, they could not be more dissimilar, not only for hair color. Then, he seemed not afraid to contradict him. He seemed the only one willing to really listen to the Elf.

Even Estel, in his rush of wanting to protect him always, sometimes was suffocating. And after the speech this morning ... but Legolas drove back the thought. The Man was not serious, he knew. Yet part of his heart doubted.

He took a deep breath and changed the subject abruptly. He could not dwell on those ideas. "Are you hungry?"

"Not much," Sauron said, sitting on the bed. The Elf's sudden change had slightly unbalanced him.

"It would be better if you make the effort, otherwise you will never recover your strength. I remind you that you're hurt and have lost blood. I'll bring you something," Legolas said in a dismissive tone.

Sauron nodded. "Very well, I'll eat, but later."

Legolas smiled faintly. "I would stay, but I must go... I cannot miss the breakfast with my family..."

"I understand, do not worry. Go, I'll know how to pass the time. The books you have brought me will keep me company," Sauron said softly, returning his smile.

Then, the Elf walked away and went out the room.