CHAPTER 26

Four more days of plinking arrows, and Legolas' calluses were thickening nicely. He then quite deliberately began fletching arrows in the Elf-lord's chamber.

He stacked the books on the floor, shoved the parchments into the desk and closed it over them. Bundling up Elrond's robe, Legolas tossed it onto the bed and gathered his own fletching supplies. Leaving endless feathers and string, rough shafts and sharp arrowheads scattered about, Legolas thought that if he could take over the chamber and irritate Elrond enough, the Elf-lord would seek out Legolas and tell him to stop it. That, at least, would begin a conversation between them. But Legolas still fell asleep deep in the night. Morning merely saw his messy bits and pieces scooped aside into neat little piles on the floor or the table and left for him to finish.

Finish them he did: his new arrows were gathered and tied into neat little bundles and left in the middle of the chamber floor for Elrond to trip over whenever he deigned to enter the room. The next morning they were stacked neatly beside Legolas' own wardrobe.

Legolas was at a loss to explain how the Elf-lord or his servant had made several trips inside his bedchamber without Legolas stirring in his sleep. I am still that fatigued? he thought, more than a little disgusted with his weak body.

His calluses and his arrows were complete. So was his frustration.

Sometimes he dreamed that Elrond came to him in the night, stood beside his bed and smoothed his hair only to go away again. Some great sadness always invaded the dream – a sadness that Legolas began sensing was more than a dream during the day. He wanted to wake, to sit up, to reach out to the Elf-lord, to ask what misery he carried, but Legolas' eyelids were far too heavy. His body was too infuriatingly frail; try as he might, he could not override his fatigue.

Why won't he come to me, and why is he so sad? Legolas wondered. What have I done to disappoint him or hurt him so badly that he cannot bear the sight of me?

When I am stronger, I will find him. I must.

Legolas was tempted to invade the Great Hall, to try seeking out the Lord of Imladris there, but Erestor had informed him that Elrond came late to the Great Hall, and Legolas was lothe to reveal to all the host of Imladris that its lord could not bear the sight of him. Elrond had declared their betrothal before everyone: Legolas could not reveal their shame before those same Elves. He had to find another way.

And so, Legolas schooled himself to patience – more patience than he could ever feel his maddening, recalcitrant, slow-healing body deserved.

Days before, he deliberately left off searching for Elrond. Days before, he began forcing himself to rest when his body asked for it, worked with his weapons only when he felt up to it, and listened to other physical demands that irritated him, but that he knew he could no longer afford to ignore. He set a schedule of healing and had stuck to it. Despite all desires to the contrary, Legolas did not overextend himself, he ate whatever Erestor brought – obviously at Elrond's orders, for his frequent meals came in the form of terribly healthy selections in far larger quantities than Legolas would ever have selected on his own, and Erestor had to know it.

Legolas' determination finally paid off, in the form of his body finally regained the form and the strength he had enjoyed when he had returned from Dol Guldur with Glorfindel. Legolas; archery skills were dead on once again, his knifework almost restored. He felt better and moved as he once had. He also didn't have to sleep but once every three days – if need be. Which definitely leaves more time for me to look for HIM.

Came the night – a moonstruck night – when Legolas knew without doubt that Elrond would be in the stables. He knew, because a smiling Glorfindel had told him so when Legolas had dared lurk near the entrance to the Great Hall, wanting to see within but not be seen.

"His absence is getting ridiculous, is it not?" Glorfindel had offered conversationally to the Elf lurking about in the cloak.

"Past ridiculous," the cloak had responded.

"He'll spend tomorrow with Assassin, riding the fenceline, and he'll end it with him as well," Glorfindel offered. "He'll feed and water and groom that stallion when the sun goes down, and that's where you'll find him tomorrow night if you've a mind to do so, my friend."

If he had a mind to do so… a mind to trap Elrond in that stall, where he would be unable to escape the small space if an Elf were to block the door. The Elf-lord could vault over the wall, but someone of Elrond's stature would certainly bang his head on the ceiling beam and look ever so silly crashing down into the manure. As looking silly was something Elrond was not in the habit of doing, Legolas thought he might actually obtain a conversation with his quarry that night.

He WILL talk to me then, Legolas thought. He WILL tell me why he has been avoiding me. No matter what I have done to him, I have had enough of this.

Vaulting lightly down from the garden wall surrouonding Elrond's terrace, Legolas headed down the gravel path and nearly ran into Erestor coming up the same path. The majordomo stepped back a pace, only to gasp in wonder and lean forward once more. Here, then, was the Elf to whom his master was bonded… a slender, almost wraithlike creature with alabaster skin glowing in the moonlight, and feline grace and beauty. Legolas' long hair danced in the breeze, while shadows threw his cheekbones into high relief, rendering him sculpted in the night like brittle porcelain. This was what Thranduil had tried to destroy: this was what Elrond had brought back from the edge of death. And this is what Erestor wanted, no matter it belonged to another.

He grows more beautiful every week, and I want him, Erestor thought. His mistake was to breathe the thought aloud.

That blonde head came up, the glittering eyes narrowed. Legolas growled. I don't want you. He took a step forward.

Erestor leaped back and found himself standing off of the path with no memory of having made the conscious choice to stand there. The majordomo stared after the slender figure striding away from him in the moonlight. Legolas didn't spare a look back.

The way to survive the hurt of his heart, the pain and the guilt at having bonded with Legolas against his will, Elrond had discovered, was to stay with Assassin as much as possible. The still-powerful stallion did not care that his supposedly wise owner had forever betrayed the one he swore to protect above all others. Assassin eagerly accepted the treats and the oats that Elrond brought; the stallion munched contentedly on the hay Elrond delivered; he drank his fill of the water Elrond provided. Assassin's needs were simple, he did not call an Elf-lord to account for his deception. It was easier to manage a stable, Elrond discovered, than to seek love where there would only be guilt and condemnation.

The days passed and he accomplished much, but Elrond knew all too well that it was a false peace he had forged within himself. Glorfindel retreated nights to his chamber inside Imladris, while Elrond insisted that he preferred watching over the foals. It had been a reasonable enough thing to want during foaling season; he'd managed to see every foal on the ground and had lost no one through his diligence. But the need to sleep in the stable was weeks gone. Still he remained with the horses: his bed within Imladris remained empty, though he often returned to his chambers deep in the night at Glorfindel's insistence to discuss any number of things… and to check on Legolas who for some reason had not abandoned Elrond's rooms to seek a place with the Mirkwood Elves.

"He's not going to join them, you fool," Glorfindel had scolded. "Legolas is waiting for you."

Why he was waiting, Elrond dared not contemplate.

Assassin waited for him as well, showing far more patience after the fire had damaged his lungs than the stallion had before. Horse and Elf-lord shared quiet, private time each night, when Elrond brushed down Assassin and combed out his mane. It was then that Elrond fell back into sharing confidences with his equine companion as he used to as a child in Gil-Galad's house, as he had later as a terrifed young warrior in Gil-Galad's army.

Tonight, all of the confidences had been told. Instead, Elrond busied his fingers by braiding a bit of mane: the Seal of Elrond might have been retired, but his singular braiding techniques still told all who might care to look that this particular stallion was his.

"Almost done," he murmured, patting the stallion's neck. Assassin's hay was long gone: the horse merely stood now, dozing under Elrond's kind hands, at peace with his master close by.

That peace ended abruptly and without warning when someone bounded into the stable only to leap over the stall wall, as easily as if it were not there at all. Whirling in the small space, Assassin lashed out with his hind feet, seeking to protect Elrond from the intruder and nail whoever it was against the stall wall.

Whirling with the stallion, the intruder murmured something Elrond could not hear. Placing a hand on the stallion's nose, he let Assassin catch his scent. Snorting, the stallion shifted his weight back and pawed at the dirt. In the end, however, it was all for show. Quieting, Assassin stretched his neck toward the intruder, who scratched above his nostrils and murmured softly.

"Be at peace… it's just me."

The dust settled, the moon came out from behind the clouds, and there was no mistaking the glittering blue eyes, the silver-streaked mane of the Elf staring up at him from across Assassin's withers. Winding his fingers in the stallion's mane, Legolas began parting a windmat.

Elrond's shaking fingers sought the half-finished braid. Concentrating on it, he tried hard to figure out a way to gracefully – or not so gracefully – exit the stall. Problem was, the door was on the other side of horse and intruder: to leave, Elrond would not only have to clamber over Assassin, he would have to run over Legolas. It made little sense to trample and reinjure one you'd fought so hard to heal over the last two months.

The braid was finished; a windmat was conquered. Legolas reached for another, so did Elrond. Assassin began dozing again. Elrond's hands still shook. Other hands – warm hands -- found his. Fingers folded over fingers, squeezing mane and reassurance between them.

"Be at peace," came the whispered admonishment, so softly that Elrond wasn't certain he had heard the words spoken aloud. Gathering as much courage as it had taken for him to face the Dark Lord on the slopes of Mount Doom, Elrond drew breath to speak.

"How are you feeling?"

A smile in the dark; a shadowed dimple for his trouble. "Much better. Almost myself, thanks to you."

He could think of nothing to say to that. Staring at Assassin's neck, Elrond stilled his fingers, wondered at Legolas' light tough as he picked a windmat over Elrond's hands.

"I miss you," the younger Elf murmured.

"I am right here."

"In body perhaps, and not willingly." Abandoning the wind-mat, Legolas curled his fingers around Elrond's. "Please be with me in this moment, speak to me. Tell me what I have done that you wish to avoid me so completely, and how may I make it right?"

Elrond's head came up at that. "You cannot think—" he began, grey eyes searching Legolas'. "You've done nothing. I want only peace for you."

Legolas cocked his head. "Why would I not be at peace?"

"You haven't been well for some days."

"I am well now."

"Yes, I see that."

Legolas' smile faded in the next moment, his eyes widening and darkening in the same instance. Elrond felt his shoke, his withdrawal a moment before Legolas pulled his fingers away from Elrond.

"Oh, Elbereth," Legolas breathed, stepping back. "I can see it… feel it. You… you've bonded."

"Yes."

"I…" The Elf's breathing grew more rapid. Backing against the stall wall, he splayed his fingers on the smooth wood behind him and stared at Elrond. Swallowing hard, Legolas tried once more. "I am… happy that you have found someone to love. And I congratulate you on rendering ineffectual Thranduil's plans for the two of us. Well done, my lord."

"Legolas­­—"

"Please accept my apologies for not respecting your distance, I did not understand. Of course I will find somewhere else to live now that you have­­—"

"Legolas—" Elrond interrupted once more. "All is not as it might appear to be, but we cannot discuss it here." Please understand, others may be listening. Coming around Assassin, Elrond saw that the silvered eyes meeting his were filled with a sadness that only confused the Elf-lord. Laying a hand on Legolas' shoulder, he found that the Elf was trembling.

"I should not have sought you tonight."

"Yes, you should have. More than that, I should have come to you long before this. Will you return with me to my chambers and let me explain?"

A single nod. Silently, with his head bowed, Legolas followed Elrond from the stable.