A/N: Cliffy warning!
Chapter 7: Something wicked...
The next few days passed slowly, with Legolas and Aragorn recuperating and resting. But that did not mean that they took their days slowly. Every morning Legolas knocked on Aragorn's door and walk with him to the dining room, where they shared breakfast. Lunchtimes found them sitting at the same table, talking quietly, while they had taken to have their dinner in the royal family dining room, either alone or with the King.
Aragorn particularly enjoyed the time he spend with Legolas, away from prying eyes and politely nodding servants. Legolas showed him places of the Palace he had not seen before, told him numerous stories of his childhood and youth, made him laugh with jokes and taught him about the history of the former Greenwood the Great. By the end of the week, Aragorn felt more at home in the Palace than he had before the journey to the outpost. And that was not just because the tale of his rescuing the Crown Prince had spread like wildfire in the corridors and halls of the underground Palace.
Wherever they went and whatever they did, Legolas seemed to have planned a little "extra" for them. One time it was a quick kiss in a dark corridor, the other time a gentle squeeze in the library, and once even a full five minutes of kissing, touching and probing behind a storage rag in a small stockroom. At first surprised and highly embarrassed by Legolas's actions, Aragorn soon learned to appreciate his lover's resourcefulness and loving attention. They explored the Palace in a whole new way, making memories in many hallways, corners and rooms. And to Aragorn's surprise, the danger of being caught, of being seen or heard, aroused him more than he had ever dreamed possible. And the knowledge that he would have to walk back to his or Legolas's room, that they would probably have to wait "hours" before they could be intimate, nearly killed him. And when they finally sank down on the bed, breathing heavily and sweaty, he saw the same wonder, excitement and satisfaction reflected in Legolas's eyes. It was a dream come true.
One of those wonderful nights, when they lay spend on the rug before the hearth, Aragorn lifted himself onto his elbow and slowly traced a finger down Legolas's shoulder to his back. Gently, he circled the still healing spider bite wound, a frown appearing on his face. Legolas watched him from his position on the floor, waiting for him to speak.
"It has not healed yet, Legolas. Whereas you can barely see my wound." Aragorn said confused, his eyes full of worry.
Taking Aragorn's probing fingers into his hand and placing a kiss on them, Legolas gave him a small smile, "It has to do with the poison. The spider venom blocks my healing properties and causes the wound to heal slower. But sooner or later not even a scar will be left."
Aragorn gave the wound another long look, then concentrated on Legolas's face. "Are you certain about that? It looks painful."
"Yes, I am." Legolas brushed his lips against Aragorn's. "It does not hurt, trust me. And, could I do this if my back would trouble me?" Legolas wrapped his arms around the young man, rolled atop him, and bestowed dozens of butterfly kisses to his neck and face.
"I think not." Aragorn finally breathed, his head all fuzzy and his lower regions hot with desire. Moaning blissfully, he placed his hands on Legolas's hips, very aware of the fact that they were both still naked. Tracing his thumbs in slow circles on the tender skin, Aragorn looked up into Legolas's bright blue eyes.
"I love you, Legolas."
A huge smile broke out on the elf's face, and he leaned down so that his blond hair framed Aragorn's face. Legolas brought his lips close to Aragorn's, almost touching him. "I love you too, Estel." He whispered, then closed the distance and kissed him slowly. It was a kiss full of love and trust, a kiss that promised more than just the physical bonding that they had shared so often. With this kiss, Legolas showed Aragorn that he truly loved him back, without hesitation, and that his heart loved all of the man, body and soul.
And that night, when Aragorn made his way slowly back to his room, his head full of happy memories, he could not help but chuckle at Legolas's parting words. 'Tomorrow I shall show you the true meaning of the word 'flexible''.
And that, he did. With every day that passed, Legolas became more and more adventuresome and creative in their love making. They did some things that Aragorn had, until now, believed to be physically impossible, and he had enjoyed every second of it. When they were not trying to keep quiet while in either his or Legolas's room, they were walking the corridors of the Palace, or venturing outside into the protected areas. They often practiced their archery or sword fighting techniques, and were joined by Silien and Merenor when those two were not on duty.
Since the journey back to the Palace from their trip to the outpost, Aragorn saw in Silien a really good friend. The elf had stayed by his side when he had been sick and cold, feeling absolutely miserable, and Aragorn had thanked him quietly for his support the day he had been released from the healing ward. His feelings for Merenor, on the other hand, were a bit more difficult to describe. While he was grateful for what the elf had done to make sure that Legolas survived the attack from the spider poison, Aragorn could not help but feel a bit threatened by the elf. Jealous, even.
He was certain that Legolas and Merenor had been a couple in the past, and he knew that at least Merenor still harbored some feelings for Legolas. The elf would seek Legolas's touch, generally stay close to him, or study him whenever he thought no one was watching him. Aragorn could not help but wonder who had broken off their relationship. Legolas seemed to enjoy Merenor's company, but from what Aragorn could read from his lover's body language, he was no longer attracted to Merenor. But, that did not mean that he would leave Legolas alone with Merenor. When no one was watching. Or listening in on them. The heart is sometimes so much stronger than common sense…
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Two weeks had passed since Lithdal had watched the tall figure of Aragorn vanishing behind the carved stone doors of the Palace. Two weeks since Lithdal had had any contact with life inside the cave system. But during all that time, not one day had gone by without Lithdal thinking of Aragorn, dreaming of the time when they would finally be together. With each day that went by, Lithdal felt that his chance of ever seeing Aragorn again got smaller. The young man was caught behind the stone doors, was a captive of the darkness that reigned in the corridors of the Palace, was a slave to the will of the Prince.
Whenever Lithdal thought of Legolas and what the Prince was doing to "his" Aragorn, Lithdal's blood boiled. Aragorn belonged to him and him alone. The only thing that prevented the young man from returning to him was the possessive hold that Legolas had on him. Once this connection was broken, Aragorn would willingly come to him. And then, Lithdal would take what was his, should have been his all along.
The wish to see Aragorn again, to hold him, kiss him, love him, grew into a desire within Lithdal, slowly turning into pure need and lust. He simply "needed" Aragorn to survive, to go on in this world. He was convinced that he could not live without the young human by his side. Once these feelings had taken a hold of him, Lithdal could not help but think of the things he would do with Aragorn, and his body reacted to these thoughts almost immediately. More than once, Lithdal had to quickly climb a tree, so as not to be caught by wild animals or orcs while he was in no fit state to fight.
With the desire and lust to finally have Aragorn for himself, his hate for Legolas grew. Lithdal knew that Legolas did not really love Aragorn, never had. He was using the young man for his own needs, nothing more. And once the Prince was out of the way, the way was free for Lithdal to take up his place and take what was his.
So, when two weeks had passed since he had last seen Aragorn, Lithdal decided that he could wait no longer. He wanted Aragorn, he needed him, he would not live any longer without him. Ah, but Lithdal was no fool. He had lived in the Palace for most of his life, and he knew that the Prince was well loved and protected. Guards stood at every door and patrolled even the most remote corridor. All entries and exits to the cave system were covered by ever watchful eyes. Well, Lithdal thought, all entries but one. As a messenger to the King, he had often been forced to seek His Majesty out, going hither and yonder in his search. And during one of those searches, Lithdal had found a way in and out of the Palace that no one knew. Maybe a few of the oldest guards knew of the secret tunnel system that Lithdal had found, and maybe even the King and Legolas, but Lithdal doubted that any guards were patrolling it. The tunnel system that ran under the Palace was huge, stretching miles to the south, north, west and east. Lithdal had never seen guards enter the tunnel system, and if he came along one, he would simply deal with him. One way or the other.
So, entering the Palace would not be a problem. But, coming close to Aragorn without being detected, that would be a problem. Lithdal was no fool. He had noticed that there were more guards around than usual, and he mused that Legolas had warned them of him. If the guards saw him, they would sound the alarm. That must not happen. Not when he was so close to the young man. No, Lithdal thought. He would enter the Palace and spy on the habits and movements of Aragorn and that Princeling. And then he would take his chance when it presented itself to him. He had waited for so many months; he could wait a day or two longer.
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Like so many days before, Legolas picked Aragorn up for breakfast, and they headed down to the dining rooms. They enjoyed their simple meal, when Silien sat down at the table, a frustrated look on his face. Letting his plate clatter on the table, he gulped down half of his tea, before he sighed heavily. Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a look. Normally, Silien was never frustrated or agitated. The elf had a very balanced personality. So, Legolas cleared this throat softly, "Good morning, Silien. Care to tell what has you so rattled this early in the day?"
Silien gave Legolas a mock glare and finished his slice of bread before he answered, "It is the cook." He wiped his hands on a napkin, then continued, "Every morning he calls me and claims that food has been stolen from the kitchens. Bread, cheese, wine. Even dried meat and vegetables. Wants me, being responsible for this part of the Palace, to start a full investigation." Silien shook his head, "Nonsense, if you ask me." Still looking very frustrated, Silien bit into another slice of bread with vigor.
"Why do you think that the cook is telling nonsense?" Aragorn asked, a little confused. Surely the cook would never lie about such things. And why should he?
"Because everyone can take food from the kitchen if they want to. The food in the Palace is for everyone. If you are hungry, go to the kitchen and take what you want." Silien said, shrugging. "There is no need to steal food which you can take as you please."
Aragorn was even more confused now, and he said so, "I don't understand. If the food is for everyone to take, how can the cook then be certain that something has been stolen?"
Swallowing, Silien began to explain, "Because everyone who takes food from the kitchen or the storage rooms has to sign into a list. You have to mark what you have taken and sign your name behind the items. So, the cooks know how much there remains in the storage rooms, and when the provisions have dwindled to a certain degree, that they need to send out the hunters. But now the cook claims that food has been taken without writing it down on the list. The cook says that this has never happened before."
Not knowing what to say to this, Aragorn glanced at Legolas. Too his surprise, Legolas seemed to take this matter seriously. His eyes were narrowed and there was a frown on his forehead. "Silien," he said, "What are you planning to do in this matter?"
"Do?" Silien nearly choked on his cheese. "What am I supposed to do? Apart from the fact that I think the cook has sniffed one times too many on his cooking liquor, there is really nothing I can do." Silien counted his arguments off on the fingers on his hand.
"First, there are too many kitchens and storage rooms in the Palace to guard them all. Second, I have too little men to do so. Third, taking food and not signing in is not a crime. Maybe the person or persons responsible just forgot it. And last but not least, I think it is an utter waste of time."
Legolas was spared an answer, for in that moment Merenor stopped by their table, and a few moments later they left the dining hall to join a group of warriors on their way to the underground training caves. A man-to-man training session had been scheduled for the morning, and both Aragorn and Legolas had agreed to take part. But while Aragorn thoroughly enjoyed the training, learning the moves he was shown and peppering the senior warriors who trained them with questions, Legolas's mind was elsewhere.
Food had been stolen from the kitchens and storage rooms. That was indeed very strange. For as long as Legolas could remember, he had never heard that food had been stolen. Certainly, sometimes people forgot to sign the lists, but that were mere incidents. Never before had the cook worried so much that he asked the guards to do anything about it. Legolas's mind whirled. Who would need to steal food? Well, someone who could not sign his name on the list. Someone who wanted to stay undetected. Someone on the run.
A feeling of unease crawled down Legolas's spine. 'Lithdal'. But no, that was ridiculous. The elf could not be in the Palace! How should he have entered? The guards would have arrested him the moment he had set one toe above the Palace threshold. It was simply impossible that Lithdal was in the Palace. Legolas repeated that phrase over and over in his head, and when the training session ended and a happy and smiling Aragorn made his way over to him, he had managed to convince himself that Lithdal was not in the Palace. Legolas was simply overly paranoid. That was all.
The next day, a young warrior reported one of his uniforms missing. The elf in attendance noted it down on a sheet of parchment, handed the young warrior a new set of uniforms, and forgot the incident the moment the young warriors left his room. Slowly, disaster wriggled its way into the Palace of Mirkwood.
The next morning, Legolas loudly banged on Aragorn's door, then stormed inside. It was early, and Aragorn was still lying in bed, the covers drawn up to his chin. When he saw Legolas's broadly smiling face, he drew the blanket above his head, moaning, "That cannot mean anything good."
"Oh, but it does!" Legolas laughed, then added a log to the smoldering ashes in the hearth and poked the wood until orange flames sprang forth. He quickly made his way into the bathing chamber, filled a basin with water, then brought it over to the hearth and sat in down near the flames to warm it. "I have big plans for today, Estel. So get up sleepy-head."
"Don't want to." Aragorn grumbled, tightening his hold on the blankets and furs. "I'm tired."
Legolas huffed and soundlessly made his way over to the bed. He reached out and tickled Aragorn's bare feet. With a shriek, the young man drew his knees up, poked his head form under the covers and gave Legolas a dark look, "That was mean."
"I know." Legolas quipped happily, then climbed onto the bed. He crawled on hands and knees over to Aragorn, until he was situated over the young man. Leaning down, he kissed him good morning. Unwilling to forgive his friend and lover for waking him so rudely, Aragorn enjoyed the kiss, but then shoved Legolas away.
Laughing, Legolas tackled Aragorn, but he pushed himself off the bed with too much force, and a moment later man and elf landed unceremoniously on the ground. Rubbing his aching head, Aragorn looked up into the eyes of his lover, "So, big plans, huh?"
"Yes." Legolas simply replied, a bit ashamed that he had caused them both to tumble to the hard ground. He quickly kissed Aragorn again, before he climbed to his feet and extended a hand to help the young man up as well. Legolas had to grin at what he saw. In his sleeping clothing, with sleep tousled hair and slight stubble on his chin, Aragorn just looked gorgeous. Biting his lower lip, Legolas shook his head in profound regret.
"Ah, if we only had time now." He lamented, looking Aragorn up and down. But before Aragorn's half asleep mind could comprehend what Legolas was meaning, the elf had grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him towards the bathing chamber. A moment later, Legolas retrieved the basin of lukewarm water and placed in front of Aragorn. "Here, wash up and dress. We are already late."
"Why are we late, Legolas?" Aragorn mumbled, but obediently plunged his hands into the water and began to wash. While Aragorn washed the sleep from his eyes, Legolas retreated into the main room and began to rummage through the wardrobe for some clothes. His voice came to Aragorn slightly muffled.
"Because we have an appointment with Inglor."
Wiping his wet hands on a towel, Aragorn frowned and called over his shoulder, "Who is Inglor?"
"Inglor is the royal tailor." Legolas called, dumping trousers, shirt, tunic and socks onto the bed.
"The royal tailor?" Aragorn emerged from the bathing chamber, clean but still unshaven. "Why would we have an appointment with the royal tailor?"
"Because," Legolas said and pointed for Aragorn to go back into the bathing chamber and shave, "Winter Solstice is only a week away, and you need new clothes for the occasion."
"I brought formal clothing with me." Aragorn said, pointing to his wardrobe. "It is all there." Legolas merely shook his head and handed Aragorn his shaving knife and soap.
"I told you that the Winter Solstice feast in Mirkwood is celebrated differently than in Rivendell. Here, it is quite a formal affair. My father will preside the formal part of the celebrations at the head table, with me and his advisors at his side. There will be many speeches and lays be sung. At midnight, my father will declare the new year has begun and then the informal part of the celebrations begin. We will dance and sing and drink and have a lot of fun."
Having shaven the right side of his face and turning to the left, Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, "I still don't see why I would need new clothing."
A sigh came from the main room, "As a guest of me and my father the King, being Lord Elrond's foster son, you will be treated as a guest of honor at the celebrations, Estel. You will sit to my father's left during the evening."
In a matter of seconds, Aragorn's face paled, "At the royal table? Beside your father? All evening?"
"Aye."
Aragorn slowly cleaned his shaving knife and his voice was slightly higher when he finally asked, "Will I have to give a speech?"
Legolas's slender arm wrapped around his waist and the elf's chin came to rest on his shoulder. "Would you like that?" Legolas gently pressed his lips on Aragorn's neck.
"Well, I have been trained for occasions like these." Aragorn said evasively and tilted his head to the side to give Legolas's skilled lips more access to his neck.
"But would you like to do it?"
"No."
Legolas smiled and kissed the young man on the cheek, "I thought so. I have talked to my father and he agreed that you will only have to say a few words. Like 'I thank the King for his hospitality and wish us all an enjoyable evening.' Something like that."
Aragorn grimaced, but knew that it would be inevitable. After all, the same had been asked of Legolas every time he had stayed in Imladris over the winter. Still, he had brought his formal clothing with him and did not see the need to buy new robes and he said so.
Smiling gently, Legolas tightened his hold on Aragorn. "I want your robes to match with mine, Estel. I want you to look your best."
"Hm, why did you not say so immediately?" Aragorn turned his head so that he could kiss Legolas on his lips. The kiss became deeper and Aragorn turned in the elf's embrace. His hands slowly wandered down to rest on his lover's hips, and Legolas leaned forward, intensifying his kisses. But too soon Legolas stepped back, moaning in disappointment.
"Alas, we have no time for this." He quickly made his way into the main room and over to the bed. Taking up the shirt and tunic he had chosen, he flung them in Aragorn's direction. "Get dressed, Estel. If we come too late, Inglor will be furious."
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They 'did' come too late to the appointment with Inglor, and the royal tailor nearly sputtered with shock the moment he laid eyes on Aragorn. With a 'You didn't tell me I'd have to dress him, my Prince. That will take so much more time!' he whisked Aragorn away into his rooms to take his measurements. But what had started as a rather awkward meeting, turned out to be a lot of fun. Once Inglor had gotten over his anger, he found the task of making formal robes for a 'human' very interesting. They tried various colors and materials, and Aragorn dressed so often that morning that he became dizzy. In the end, they decided on a dark grey tunic with a slightly lighter shirt, combined with black breeches and a robe the color of the stormy sea. While Inglor complained that the coloring would rather suit a burial than a Winter Solstice celebration, Legolas thought the coloring would match perfectly with Aragorn's eyes and dark hair, and furthermore stress his Noldorin ancestry.
They spent the afternoon in the library and the family sitting room, talking about the upcoming celebrations. During the conversation, Aragorn started to feel slightly homesick again, and he could not help but wonder what his brothers and father were doing right now. Surely the twins had gone hunting in the woods surrounding the valley, while his father had written his speech. Glorfindel and Erestor would have supervised the preparations, each of them meticulous to the point of being annoying. Aragorn really missed his family, and he wished he could at least write to them. But the snowstorms and cold weather made it almost impossible for the carrier pigeons to travel across the Misty Mountains, and letters were only send in a case of emergency.
The days passed quickly, and both Legolas and Aragorn were swept away by the happy atmosphere that wafted through the corridors and halls of the Palace like early morning mist. Everybody was looking forward to the celebrations, helping to clean and decorate the place. While Legolas was called to and fro to make decisions over food, music and seating arrangements, Aragorn helped the servants and warriors to carry tables and stools, carpets, dishware and huge candelabras.
When the day of the celebrations arrived, the great hall of the King looked enchanted. The stone floor had been carpeted, framed pictures and tapestries covered the walls, silver candelabras stood all around the room, winter flowers hung from the ceiling, and long wooden tables stood in the middle of the room, with benches that could house two hundred people. At the head of the room, right before the aisle that held the throne, stood the royal table. The chair of the King had been situated in the middle, with numerous chairs to each side. Gobles and golden plates already decorated the table, together with white napkins and diamond covered decanters.
The celebration itself was like nothing that Aragorn had ever experienced before. True to Legolas's word, Aragorn was seated next to the King as a guest of honor, and he 'did' have to say a few quick words. But it was not as bad as he had feared, and when the King gave him a small smile and raised his goblet in a salute, Aragorn felt the nervousness that had plagued him all day vanish out of his body. Up until midnight, the room was rather quiet. The food was excellent, as was the wine, but the formal speeches and soft music bathed the hall into a somber mood.
And then, when midnight came, the King stood to his feet, raised his goblet high above his head and greeted the new year. Legolas was the first to climb to his feet as well, his goblet raised, and then the whole room followed as one big individual. And as if that had been the official end of the somber mood, the whole room began to chat away happily. There was loud laughter and song, the musicians played a lovely melody, and more wine was brought. Minutes later, the long tables were shoved to the walls, and the merry making began.
"Come, Estel!" Legolas called and grabbed him by the hand. "Let's go dancing."
They danced a lot that night, as did all the elves present. Too Aragorn's surprise (and relief) it seemed to be absolutely normal that males danced with males, unlike in Imladris, where male bondings were accepted, but took place more in secret. He even spotted Silien dancing with Merenor. Nevertheless, he and Legolas did not dance many dances together, and changed their dancing partners throughout the night. Aragorn danced with so many people, both elleth and ellyn that he stopped counting them. He had a lot of fun, as had Legolas.
In the early hours of morning, when dancing became too arduous a task and the limbs became heavy from wine, most of the dancers left the hall to celebrate elsewhere. When the music finally stopped, Legolas came over to Aragorn, a huge smile on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his hair had come loose from his braids. Clapping Aragorn on the shoulder, he appraised his friend from head to foot, "I take it you had fun tonight?"
"Aye, I had." Aragorn said, still slightly out of breath from all the dancing he had done. "Legolas, this evening was fabulous. I think I have never before danced that much in my whole life."
"I hoped that you would enjoy it." Legolas wrapped his arm around Aragorn's shoulders and lead him to the door. The room was almost empty now, with but a few elves still dancing or talking merrily over a glass of wine.
While they made their way to the royal wing, they could hear laughter and song float through the corridors, but they saw few elves. When they had passed the guards at the bottom of the stairs that led to the royal wing, Legolas leaned in and whispered in Aragorn's ear, "I wish I could stay with you tonight, Estel." His breath was hot on Aragorn's skin, and a warm shower coursed through his body at those words.
"Then stay with me." He said, without thinking.
There was a pause, but then Legolas sighed, "I cannot, you know that. But oh, how I wish I could." He looked around the empty corridor to make sure that they were unobserved, then quickly brushed his lips against Aragorn's neck. Aragorn turned and tiled his head to the side, wanting to feel Legolas's lips on his skin. Hands stroked, fingers probed and their breath mingled. Soon, Aragorn found himself pressed flat against the wall, with Legolas's body flush against his own.
"Oh, Legolas…" Aragorn sighed, feeling the heat of Legolas's body through his tunic. He wanted to feel Legolas, to hear him whisper his name, hold him close and love him. But as if his exclamation had broken the spell, Legolas stiffened and broke the contact as if Aragorn was too hot to touch. Like a rabbit trapped in a cage he looked left and right, and only relaxed when he saw that the corridor was still empty.
"Estel, we cannot…." When Legolas saw the disappointment in Aragorn's eyes, he quickly took his hand. "Estel, you know I love you."
Aragorn nodded, but could not help feel sad for himself. All his former happiness and festive feeling evaporated. "You still haven't told your father about us, Legolas. You said you would tell him at Winter Solstice."
"I know." Legolas said and sighed, "I know. And I promise you, I will tell him."
"When?"
Legolas paused for a moment, as if he was undecided, but then he took a deep breath and looked Aragorn in the eye, "First thing tomorrow morning. I promise."
"Really?" Aragorn asked doubtfully, but Legolas nodded.
"Aye, really. I will tell him over breakfast. No, WE will tell him over breakfast." Legolas smiled at Aragorn's surprised look. "I want you to be by my side when I tell him, Estel. Just like I was at your side when you told your family." There was so much love in Legolas's eyes that Aragorn just had to smile.
"Alright. Tomorrow morning it is." And before Legolas could protest, he leaned forwards and pressed their lips together in one long, passionate kiss that sealed Legolas's promise. And when they parted company that night in front of Aragorn's door, it was with the happy feeling that after tomorrow, they would no longer be forced to live a secret life. Well, at least not while they were in the family quarters.
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Silent as a wrath and as dangerous, Lithdal crept along the dark corridors of the Palace. Now, with the celebrations over and most of the feasting elves fast asleep in their own quarters, with the guards too tired to care and the servants so exhausted from the day's work to wake up before hours after dawn, Lithdal deemed his time had come to take what was his. He had housed in the underground secret hallways for days now, had stolen food and drink from the kitchens and even managed to snatch away a soldier's uniform. Even if someone now glanced his way, he would not immediately be recognized.
A wicked smile formed on his face as his steps brought him closer and closer to the royal wing. It had been too easy to enter the Palace. All he had to do was remove an old metal gate that had been too rusty to last long, and then find his way through the underground tunnel system that had been built for cases of emergency. There had been no guard at the other end, and Lithdal had sneaked inside the Palace like poison through a body. Undetected, but lethal.
Oh, Lithdal had dreamed about this day, had waited for it to finally arrive. And he had so many plans on what he would do tonight. So many delicious dreams…Once this night was over, the young man would be his, and his alone. Lithdal's body tightened and a searing heat filled his stomach at the thought of what he would do with the human. But he shook his head and balled his fists. There was one other thing he had to do first, before he could join the beautiful youth.
Like a shadow Lithdal neared the stairs that led up to the royal wing. He gave his appearance one last look, the stolen uniform fit him perfectly. He barely glanced at the guards at the bottom of the stairs, striding past them as if he did this every day. Tired and bored, the guards let him pass without so much as a second glance. Many warriors came and went here every day, and there really was no reason for them to worry. Once past the guards, Lithdal felt his heart pump against his chest. Only a few more steps…
He stopped in front of the door to the royal guest room. His hands were sweaty and his blood rushed in his ears. Slowly, as if in a trance, he pressed his palm against the wood and closed his eyes. He was so close now, so close to the young man he wanted more than anything else in the world. The young man who loved him, deep down, and just needed to be freed from the captive hold of that Princeling to be all his. At the thought of Legolas, Lithdal's dreamy face turned into an insane grimace. Ah yes, the one thing he had to take care of before he could finally join Estel in his room.
Keeping to the shadows of the corridor, Lithdal made his way towards Legolas's room. The door was not locked, and he entered the dark room. Silently, his feet making no sound on the floor, he made his way over to the bed. For a moment he stared down at the sleeping Prince, blond hair ruffled and face relaxed, eyes opened in elvish sleep. Hate bubbled up inside of him, hot and all consuming. Before he could change his mind, Lithdal grabbed the heavy water jug from the nightstand, raised his arm and let the jug crash down on Legolas's head.
Shards of pottery hit the floor with a splintering sound, but after that, there was only silence. Lithdal looked down as bright red blood soaked into the pillow, before it dripped onto the matters. Legolas did not move, his eyes were closed.
With a satisfied snort, Lithdal turned and left the room as quietly as he had entered it. A smile played around his lips as he reached the door to Aragorn's room.
To be continued.