A/N:
First - =D Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou for the support everyone - I wasn't quite too sure about this idea, sort of did it on the spur of the moment and almost didn't continue with it, but.... when I woke up after posting this, and saw the first few reviews... *sobs* Well, I'm continuing obviously!
Second - This story is definitely going to be AU, and some people may tend to be a little more OOC than I'd thought, originally. And a bit of bad news for Goldmund and others - I thought I wouldn't in a million years ever kill off the two main characters - but after thinking over the plot some more... I've decided the suicides are going to be a definite possibility. =T
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. And put your blasted lawyers away, thanks.
Warning: Below is SLASH! The A/L kind to be exact, and not only slash but fluttery romance-ish stuff, too! I repeat - Ahead of you lies a whole forest of sweet, gooey SAP and the slantiest SLASH I've ever written! (Actually, this is my first slash so... well, anywhoo)
You were warned...!
P.S. To clarify - Leggy is *not* wearing a dress! It is a ~costume~ ; the very kind of which will be left to your imagination ;) Though, really, *NOT A DRESS*!
That said, do continue...
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Strobe lights flickered scarlet, blue and lavenderish hues all across the castle's dance clearing. A delicate sort of greyish fog hovered around calve-heigth, blurring everyones vision and clouding all their good senses and better judgements - or maybe that was the ale? The band Mirkwood employed to keep everyone on their feet until the Dawn was one of the best of the land - a startling mixture of large, brooding drum-beaters, towering flute players and singers whose voices were thick, strong, and passionate. Like a drug, all these ingredients mixed together to seduce the most rigid of elves at the party, making them forget composure for once and gently sway to the intoxicating rhythms of the mood and the music.
Even the unruly princeling himself was enjoying himself, being whooshed back and forth in a pleasant swift-waltz.
At first, of course, it had taken a third of all the Prince's will power to sit still during the feast - resisting the urge to blow bubbles in his ale or fire peas at the stiff and decourus corpses seated around him. The last two thirds of his will power(and half of his fathers, as well) were occupied in keeping Legolas from flying across the table to slap the staunch and rather portly Lord Elger, who leered at him without so much as a blink all through-out the fourth and fifth courses of the meal. Legolas thought it might have been a record and decided to remember it as a high point of the evening, giving the Lord that much credit despite the Prince's annoyance with him.
Later on, however, after the well-endured confrontations of the feast, the Prince had been lead out to the dance floor, not by some slick-tongued, tentacled noble his father favored that evening, but by his own mother instead. Arm in arm, mother and son happily descended a grand staircase about five minutes or so after the King so they wouldn't draw as much attention (The Queen's idea). The pair were so pretty, though, that those who were lucky enough to be glancing up during the few moments that it took for them to come down to the party were treated to a rare visual feast, indeed, for it was said that the beauty of the Prince was a gift from his mothers line - and it showed!
One surprise seemed to lead to another that night for Legolas because the musical contribution that the masquerade organizers had acquired for the evenings entertainment were some of Mirkwood's most cherished minstrels and included one of the Prince's favorites - a wispy sort of elf woman with a voice that seemed capable of hypnotizing the Valor themselves.
"You will do well to stay near the front here, Legolas, should your immediate presence be necessary." King Thranduil had told the prince as the first of a long string of partners began to assemble for their turn to spin with the beauty of Mirkwood.
"Of course, Father," Legolas said, dutifully bowing and being lead away by some dark-haired noble. Afterthe first few dances, the mist and cloudiness of the masque settled in, the music began to fool with his head and the Prince became comfortable for the very first time at a social event.
All was going quite well on the other side of the party, too.
Elladan was too involved in a masked gambling operation taking place behind a great oak tree beside the stage to bother with any dancing. Cocky and smirking, Elladan looked to have a lucky hand that night, standing there with a crowd of new best friends intent on cashing in on his honesty, trustworthiness, friendliness, good-manners and... well, the newly-won gems clutched in his fists.
But new friends emerged everywhere that night - even for Elrohir; who was usually a little shy around females, but who had for the past hour been exuberantly dancing with an other-worldly vixen in a dragon-scaled mask...
And towards the back of the party, taking a break and relaxing near the rear buffet table, Estel sampled a bit of spring water, sweetened with dwarf-sugar before digging into the finger-foods.
Since he had arrived, Estel had danced non-stop, staying near the edge of the woods where he had entered so that none of the royalty at the front of the party would recognize him - which would be an easy thing to do, for among the elves, Estel was an unusual sight. His wavy brown hair was kept a little shorter than most elves were comfortable with so tended to stand out, even in a crowd, sometimes.
Casually lifting a tiny flame-colored delicacy to his mouth, Estel surveyed the crowd around him. His eyes lifted and grazed over the masked faces of pretty heads, pretty hairs, a magnificent Ithil-sent Angel of Mithril, more pretty heads, another batch of pretty ha- *WHOA!*... - double take - Estel's eyes zapped back to the Mithril Angel.
There, surrounded by the smokey haze of the masquerade, danced an elf whose beauty was so great it took one's breath away; and Elrond's son was no exception to the sudden lack of oxygen in the area. The small speck of food that had been plopped into Estel's mouth fell forgotten to the floor when the jaw that held it swung open in awe.
Estel could not believe the vision before his eyes. He had to mentally check himself every few moments, when he remembered, to make sure that he was still breathing. There twirling amid the haze and glaze was a pair of the deepest, bluest, brightest eyes resting just a bit above a rosy set of lips, set heart-breakingly perfectly into a face pale, flawless and so amazingly formed...
"Estel!"
Back to reality.
"Wha...?", Estel blinked a few times and turned to the voice of the approaching and immedietely-recognized intruder. "Haldir...?"
"Estel! Hah!," his old friend grinned, and came to stand beside his chair,"I thought that was you! Almost didn't recognize you with the mask - but that hair! Who else would wear it so short?"
"Haldir...," Estel smiled weakly, caught off guard and a little disoriented because of it... (Oh, the Legolas sighting had a definite hand in it, too.)
"So what are you doing here? I thought this was a Mirkwood-residency-required thing," Haldir asked, leaning on the table.
"Well, I...", Haldir scooped a drink off the platter of a passing butler and took a sip while Estel sputtered for a response.
Haldir swallowed his ale, took another sip and then chuckled at his friend. "Yeah," the Guardian of Lorien said,"I thought so."
Estel smiled and laughed. "Couldn't help it.", he explained," It was just too tempting!"
"Of course. It would be; sneaking off to a party you aren't supposed to be attending!", Haldir smirked,"Really, most certainly, *not* supposed to be attending. The Third Prince is present, you know, and he isn't supposed to be seen by any other than those of Mirkwood until he's been properly brought out."
"That's all very nice, but my attention is not on the Prince tonight...", Estel said looking back to where the silver-elf had been a moment ago - but alas, he was gone.
Haldir was laughing again,"Well, then you haven't seen him yet, have you?"
"What do you mean?", Estel asked curuiously and glancing at his friend, who had suddenly turned into a Cheshire Cat - as we here on Regular Earth would say.
"I mean that the Prince... well, look!", Haldir said pointing,"See, there he is."
Estel turned to where his friend inconspicuously pointed and almost swooned. Yes, smiling at and talking with the elf-woman who had just finished singing was Prince Legolas, looking absolutely breath-taking as before.
"Now," Haldir teased,"*Now*, tell me where your attentions lie..."
"Elbereth, *he* is the Prince? Of Mirkwood?", Estel almost leaped in his place, ignoring the sudden numbing in his right arm, from the heart attack he was about to have."Him? With the silver hair and the flawless face, and the lips like petals..."
"Oh, he's already got you spouting poetry!", laughed the guardian,"Ah, this is proving to be a rather entertaining night, indeed!"
Estel was speechless, gazing back at the Prince again, his eyes glistening with the moisture that was suddenly gone from his lips. Haldir studied his friend a moment, looked toward the Prince and then back at Estel.
"Estel..", Haldir said tenatively. There was no response. Giving a knowing sigh, Haldir finished off the rest of his ale in a gulp and prepared to go.
"Well, I'll leave you to your devices and your attentions - but please, do not get into too much trouble, dear friend.", Haldir warned, glancing back the Prince pointedly.
"Mmhmm", was his only reply as Estel continued his wistful gazing.
"And do not fear, for no one will hear from me of your presence at this forbidden party. I never saw you.", and giving a departing nod and smile, Haldir gracefully merged back into the masses of glittering costumes.
Meanwhile, the silverish moonbeam of an elf that was the Prince began to sail smoothly around in the arms of some cretin blur, at the beginning of a new song; his long, shining locks of white-blonde hair floating through the air and then tumbling around his shoulders periodically. The rhythm of the creature was almost spell-binding, and Estel felt himself sort of drop into a nearby chair for his knees had suddenly gone quite weak - too much so to continue supporting him any longer.
I won't go into any detail describing the next hour because it was an extremely uneventful one. Elladan gambled, Elrohir danced, and Estel sat and stared, moving only when he needed to relocate for a better view. Let's just get on with it, shall we? Ehem...
Finally, after quite a while, and much deliberation, Estel had worked up the courage, the nerve, the very raw steel and grit to approach the seemingly unapproachable Prince. He'd long ago decided that the fact that his love was a Prince of Mirkwood didn't matter to him in the least - the elf could have been the Prince of Cats for all he cared.
So, now, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and began to weave through the crowds to where the Prince was standing, the possibility of being recognized as Rivendell nobility pretty much the last thing on his mind as he neared the front of the party.
Just then, the Prince, who had been chatting with his father, turned and disappeared behind two guards who were placed at the entrance to a courtyard - one of which that was not open to the public from the look of the two burly elves holding spears and lurking about. Estel paused. How would he get through the guards without being noticed?
A moment longer and an idea sprang to mind. Shifting course, Estel decided to go through the trees, and as much as he wanted to barrel through the crowds and climb up one, he thought it would attract too much attention. He had to play it natural...
As casually as he could, Estel began nodding his head and snapping his fingers to the music; and - very naturally - he dance-walked his way over to the edge of the clearing. Giving one quick look around, he wasted no time in shooting up into the branches quicker than most eyes could register. Once 30 feet or so above the ground, he stopped, checked for anyone who might be watching, and then continued through the trees and over a rooftop to where the courtyard and his Prince were waiting.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Phew. I've really enjoyed writing this, and I actually *want* to continue... so can I?
I hope you guys haven't lost interest!!
First - =D Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou for the support everyone - I wasn't quite too sure about this idea, sort of did it on the spur of the moment and almost didn't continue with it, but.... when I woke up after posting this, and saw the first few reviews... *sobs* Well, I'm continuing obviously!
Second - This story is definitely going to be AU, and some people may tend to be a little more OOC than I'd thought, originally. And a bit of bad news for Goldmund and others - I thought I wouldn't in a million years ever kill off the two main characters - but after thinking over the plot some more... I've decided the suicides are going to be a definite possibility. =T
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. And put your blasted lawyers away, thanks.
Warning: Below is SLASH! The A/L kind to be exact, and not only slash but fluttery romance-ish stuff, too! I repeat - Ahead of you lies a whole forest of sweet, gooey SAP and the slantiest SLASH I've ever written! (Actually, this is my first slash so... well, anywhoo)
You were warned...!
P.S. To clarify - Leggy is *not* wearing a dress! It is a ~costume~ ; the very kind of which will be left to your imagination ;) Though, really, *NOT A DRESS*!
That said, do continue...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Strobe lights flickered scarlet, blue and lavenderish hues all across the castle's dance clearing. A delicate sort of greyish fog hovered around calve-heigth, blurring everyones vision and clouding all their good senses and better judgements - or maybe that was the ale? The band Mirkwood employed to keep everyone on their feet until the Dawn was one of the best of the land - a startling mixture of large, brooding drum-beaters, towering flute players and singers whose voices were thick, strong, and passionate. Like a drug, all these ingredients mixed together to seduce the most rigid of elves at the party, making them forget composure for once and gently sway to the intoxicating rhythms of the mood and the music.
Even the unruly princeling himself was enjoying himself, being whooshed back and forth in a pleasant swift-waltz.
At first, of course, it had taken a third of all the Prince's will power to sit still during the feast - resisting the urge to blow bubbles in his ale or fire peas at the stiff and decourus corpses seated around him. The last two thirds of his will power(and half of his fathers, as well) were occupied in keeping Legolas from flying across the table to slap the staunch and rather portly Lord Elger, who leered at him without so much as a blink all through-out the fourth and fifth courses of the meal. Legolas thought it might have been a record and decided to remember it as a high point of the evening, giving the Lord that much credit despite the Prince's annoyance with him.
Later on, however, after the well-endured confrontations of the feast, the Prince had been lead out to the dance floor, not by some slick-tongued, tentacled noble his father favored that evening, but by his own mother instead. Arm in arm, mother and son happily descended a grand staircase about five minutes or so after the King so they wouldn't draw as much attention (The Queen's idea). The pair were so pretty, though, that those who were lucky enough to be glancing up during the few moments that it took for them to come down to the party were treated to a rare visual feast, indeed, for it was said that the beauty of the Prince was a gift from his mothers line - and it showed!
One surprise seemed to lead to another that night for Legolas because the musical contribution that the masquerade organizers had acquired for the evenings entertainment were some of Mirkwood's most cherished minstrels and included one of the Prince's favorites - a wispy sort of elf woman with a voice that seemed capable of hypnotizing the Valor themselves.
"You will do well to stay near the front here, Legolas, should your immediate presence be necessary." King Thranduil had told the prince as the first of a long string of partners began to assemble for their turn to spin with the beauty of Mirkwood.
"Of course, Father," Legolas said, dutifully bowing and being lead away by some dark-haired noble. Afterthe first few dances, the mist and cloudiness of the masque settled in, the music began to fool with his head and the Prince became comfortable for the very first time at a social event.
All was going quite well on the other side of the party, too.
Elladan was too involved in a masked gambling operation taking place behind a great oak tree beside the stage to bother with any dancing. Cocky and smirking, Elladan looked to have a lucky hand that night, standing there with a crowd of new best friends intent on cashing in on his honesty, trustworthiness, friendliness, good-manners and... well, the newly-won gems clutched in his fists.
But new friends emerged everywhere that night - even for Elrohir; who was usually a little shy around females, but who had for the past hour been exuberantly dancing with an other-worldly vixen in a dragon-scaled mask...
And towards the back of the party, taking a break and relaxing near the rear buffet table, Estel sampled a bit of spring water, sweetened with dwarf-sugar before digging into the finger-foods.
Since he had arrived, Estel had danced non-stop, staying near the edge of the woods where he had entered so that none of the royalty at the front of the party would recognize him - which would be an easy thing to do, for among the elves, Estel was an unusual sight. His wavy brown hair was kept a little shorter than most elves were comfortable with so tended to stand out, even in a crowd, sometimes.
Casually lifting a tiny flame-colored delicacy to his mouth, Estel surveyed the crowd around him. His eyes lifted and grazed over the masked faces of pretty heads, pretty hairs, a magnificent Ithil-sent Angel of Mithril, more pretty heads, another batch of pretty ha- *WHOA!*... - double take - Estel's eyes zapped back to the Mithril Angel.
There, surrounded by the smokey haze of the masquerade, danced an elf whose beauty was so great it took one's breath away; and Elrond's son was no exception to the sudden lack of oxygen in the area. The small speck of food that had been plopped into Estel's mouth fell forgotten to the floor when the jaw that held it swung open in awe.
Estel could not believe the vision before his eyes. He had to mentally check himself every few moments, when he remembered, to make sure that he was still breathing. There twirling amid the haze and glaze was a pair of the deepest, bluest, brightest eyes resting just a bit above a rosy set of lips, set heart-breakingly perfectly into a face pale, flawless and so amazingly formed...
"Estel!"
Back to reality.
"Wha...?", Estel blinked a few times and turned to the voice of the approaching and immedietely-recognized intruder. "Haldir...?"
"Estel! Hah!," his old friend grinned, and came to stand beside his chair,"I thought that was you! Almost didn't recognize you with the mask - but that hair! Who else would wear it so short?"
"Haldir...," Estel smiled weakly, caught off guard and a little disoriented because of it... (Oh, the Legolas sighting had a definite hand in it, too.)
"So what are you doing here? I thought this was a Mirkwood-residency-required thing," Haldir asked, leaning on the table.
"Well, I...", Haldir scooped a drink off the platter of a passing butler and took a sip while Estel sputtered for a response.
Haldir swallowed his ale, took another sip and then chuckled at his friend. "Yeah," the Guardian of Lorien said,"I thought so."
Estel smiled and laughed. "Couldn't help it.", he explained," It was just too tempting!"
"Of course. It would be; sneaking off to a party you aren't supposed to be attending!", Haldir smirked,"Really, most certainly, *not* supposed to be attending. The Third Prince is present, you know, and he isn't supposed to be seen by any other than those of Mirkwood until he's been properly brought out."
"That's all very nice, but my attention is not on the Prince tonight...", Estel said looking back to where the silver-elf had been a moment ago - but alas, he was gone.
Haldir was laughing again,"Well, then you haven't seen him yet, have you?"
"What do you mean?", Estel asked curuiously and glancing at his friend, who had suddenly turned into a Cheshire Cat - as we here on Regular Earth would say.
"I mean that the Prince... well, look!", Haldir said pointing,"See, there he is."
Estel turned to where his friend inconspicuously pointed and almost swooned. Yes, smiling at and talking with the elf-woman who had just finished singing was Prince Legolas, looking absolutely breath-taking as before.
"Now," Haldir teased,"*Now*, tell me where your attentions lie..."
"Elbereth, *he* is the Prince? Of Mirkwood?", Estel almost leaped in his place, ignoring the sudden numbing in his right arm, from the heart attack he was about to have."Him? With the silver hair and the flawless face, and the lips like petals..."
"Oh, he's already got you spouting poetry!", laughed the guardian,"Ah, this is proving to be a rather entertaining night, indeed!"
Estel was speechless, gazing back at the Prince again, his eyes glistening with the moisture that was suddenly gone from his lips. Haldir studied his friend a moment, looked toward the Prince and then back at Estel.
"Estel..", Haldir said tenatively. There was no response. Giving a knowing sigh, Haldir finished off the rest of his ale in a gulp and prepared to go.
"Well, I'll leave you to your devices and your attentions - but please, do not get into too much trouble, dear friend.", Haldir warned, glancing back the Prince pointedly.
"Mmhmm", was his only reply as Estel continued his wistful gazing.
"And do not fear, for no one will hear from me of your presence at this forbidden party. I never saw you.", and giving a departing nod and smile, Haldir gracefully merged back into the masses of glittering costumes.
Meanwhile, the silverish moonbeam of an elf that was the Prince began to sail smoothly around in the arms of some cretin blur, at the beginning of a new song; his long, shining locks of white-blonde hair floating through the air and then tumbling around his shoulders periodically. The rhythm of the creature was almost spell-binding, and Estel felt himself sort of drop into a nearby chair for his knees had suddenly gone quite weak - too much so to continue supporting him any longer.
I won't go into any detail describing the next hour because it was an extremely uneventful one. Elladan gambled, Elrohir danced, and Estel sat and stared, moving only when he needed to relocate for a better view. Let's just get on with it, shall we? Ehem...
Finally, after quite a while, and much deliberation, Estel had worked up the courage, the nerve, the very raw steel and grit to approach the seemingly unapproachable Prince. He'd long ago decided that the fact that his love was a Prince of Mirkwood didn't matter to him in the least - the elf could have been the Prince of Cats for all he cared.
So, now, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and began to weave through the crowds to where the Prince was standing, the possibility of being recognized as Rivendell nobility pretty much the last thing on his mind as he neared the front of the party.
Just then, the Prince, who had been chatting with his father, turned and disappeared behind two guards who were placed at the entrance to a courtyard - one of which that was not open to the public from the look of the two burly elves holding spears and lurking about. Estel paused. How would he get through the guards without being noticed?
A moment longer and an idea sprang to mind. Shifting course, Estel decided to go through the trees, and as much as he wanted to barrel through the crowds and climb up one, he thought it would attract too much attention. He had to play it natural...
As casually as he could, Estel began nodding his head and snapping his fingers to the music; and - very naturally - he dance-walked his way over to the edge of the clearing. Giving one quick look around, he wasted no time in shooting up into the branches quicker than most eyes could register. Once 30 feet or so above the ground, he stopped, checked for anyone who might be watching, and then continued through the trees and over a rooftop to where the courtyard and his Prince were waiting.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Phew. I've really enjoyed writing this, and I actually *want* to continue... so can I?
I hope you guys haven't lost interest!!