A/n: I love you all. However, due to problems, the long-awaited
response to reviews has been postponed- I only have a very short time to do
this. ;_;
Oh! And by the way, farflung? Squeeee!!!!! *hugs, sobbing* You're so awesome! Your reviews are so long and wonderful! And to Silvawen, I say, dude, you kick ass.
Everyone else shall have to make do with a "You're all wonderful" for now. :P to the people who thought this story was going to suck when they first started reading. And Valentine bunnies to you all!
Disclaimer: As IF.
Chapter Eight: Only a Fool's Hope
Legolas silently cursed as he woke up enough to realize that there was a healer in the room. A concious thought returned to him, he regretfully remembered the only other healer he had ever met- an Elf named Calen.
//He was the only one who knew.//
Legolas smiled weakly at Larien. "Well," he started awkwardly, "we seem to be in a bit of a predicament. One the one hand, I owe you my life, but on the other hand, you are now part of a forbidden trail of information. Do you know what happened to the last healer who attended me?"
Larien shook her head uneasily, her chocolate-brown braids swinging slightly. Legolas looked grimly up at her.
"Luthien's Bane." It was a disease that was very, very contagious; only healers who were willing to work until they died- which wouldn't be for long- ever took assignments like that. The only time it had flared up was about the same time Legolas had broken his toe. Two entire families had fallen ill. Calen, understanding that the information he held could be forced out of him by enemies of the kingdom, had volunteered.
Luthien's Bane was called that because it caused its host to become so pale they were almost radiant. They would sweat gallons of their own body fluids, drinking and drinking, but never fast enough to balance things out. Towards the end, the victim would be constantly bathed in their own perspiration; they would emit a watery sheen that was as polished as a gemstone. As polished, some would darkly say, as a Silmaril.
Larien gulped nervously. She was a young healer, fresh from Imladris and here as a novice to study the secretive Mirkwood Elves' documents on healing. They were looking for something that would sedate and calm an Elf without knocking them out. Probably for the twins, and their almost unbearable hatred. It was an unhealthy problem, to be sure; and lately, it had begun to have physical side effects.
She nodded slowly, reluctantly. Legolas smiled. "Well, anything else you wanted to know?"
Larien sighed. "I guess I was wondering how you planned on dealing with Haldir..."
Legolas nodded and smiled weakly. "Don't worry," he said tiredly. "He's established that he prefers males."
"So he knows?"
"...no. No one knows."
"But that must be awful, Princess! Er- Prince?"
"It's all right. I'm used to being called Princess."
Larien sighed. "Well, I hope you two get along with each other."
Legolas laughed. "It would seem, to the casual observer, that we do. However..."
"He thinks you're a girl, and he doesn't view you as a mate. Bother. Well, your life must be awful." Legolas blinked.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I have never had it be otherwise; I don't know anything other than this. If you say it's awful, then it must be; but I could never say that, as I have no real idea." He looked down at his arm and wiggled his fingers tentatively. Larien smiled.
"You'll be up and about by tomorrow, at the latest. Your personal magic has healed you even faster than I could have hoped for; like every other member of the Royal House of Eryn Lasgalen, your mage blood runs strong. Some would say as strong as your mother's."
Legolas looked at her, a sad gleam in his eyes masking the shock he felt at the mention of his mother. "Did- did my adar come to see if I was all right?" he asked hopefully. Larien's eyes fell, and Legolas knew the answer before she said it.
"Romul told him privately... he asked if you were being healed already, and when he found out I was with you, he said he didn't need to come." Larien avoided looking at him as she spoke. Legolas felt his good mood deflate instantly, as though someone had jabbed it with a spear.
"Knowing adar," he said, turning his head to face the wall, "he also told Romul off for interrupting his meeting. Yes, I know he was at a Council meeting," he said, as Larien moved to speak. "He's always working. He never has time for anyone else," he choked out, trying not to cry.
Larien quietly finished removing the needles from the Princess' skin, and began to wrap bandages around his body. By the time she was finished, Legolas had his personal walls back up, and his face was as cool and serene as it had ever been.
"Larien?" he said quietly as she headed for the door. She turned, an expectant look in her eyes. He gazed impassively at her.
"I don't care what herb you use. I don't care how long it takes, or how far you have to go. All I am telling you is that I command- yes, command you- to forget."
The door shut behind her with a smooth, barely-audible click.
//Thank ye Valar. She's gone. Now. Let's see if I can think straight.// He struggled into an upright position, and tested his feet on the floor. They wobbled a bit, but then they held firm.
//I know who did it. That elf- I'll call him Arc. So, Arc has arrived into Mirkwood, the same day that the trio of Lorien delegates do. He immediately chooses to... 'mess with' Haldir. Then, a day later, he decides he is going to poison the Princess, postponing an alliance. We need that alliance as much as Lorien does- half the border patrols aren't coming home at all due to the spiders and the wild bands of orcs.// Legolas inched over to his closet door, bandages wrapped on nearly every part of his body except his face.
//So. Arc is trying to disrupt an alliance, and if anything, it looks to me as though he is from Dimrill Dale. However, his prescence contradicts what we already know about that enemy. That enemy is supposedly stupid; we were planning to bottleneck them and slaughter them. But they seem to be a good deal more intelligent than we give them credit for.// Legolas hung limply to the doorframe of his closet for a few moments, resting.
Then he walked in, and began to look for a suitable gown to wear downstairs. By no means would the Council have been ended by now, and he really didn't want to miss it.
//So. The enemy is intelligent. He may be able to use magic, which is likely, because no one but an Elf would be permitted to come iside the Hall at a banquet, and no Elf would try to kill me. I think Arc is, at best, bespelled.//
Legolas took out a simple grey robe, which attatched itself to him like a second skin. It fastened at his waist with a silver girdle, and then the skirt flared downwards, widening around his legs and allowing him to walk freely.
//Now, who do we know who is capable of bewitching? It isn't Sauron, thank the Valar. We already know that much. So, one of the Istarii? Not Gandalf. Certainly not him. Saruman is too far away. And Radagast... well, there's a possibility that is could be Radagast. The other two Istarii, no one has ever met, so they must be viewed as possible suspects.// He frowned, as he realized that his hair was in disarray.
//Or it could be a rogue mage.// That seemed far more likely than anything else so far, but just for the sake of it, Legolas backtracked.
//Okay. It might just be that Arc is insane. But that seems unlikely. He's not attracted anyone's attention, not really. And psychosis is always picked up by our mind-healers. He isn't insane. Which leaves a personal desire to disrupt things, or bewitchment.// He sighed, applying the dreaded powder to his hair.
//I'll know when I meet him.//
He took out a silver necklace, embedded with grey moonstone, and clasped it about his neck. Then he stood back, looking at himself in the mirror. The thoughts which he was trying to avoid sprang into his mind.
//Mother. They never told me you were a mage.// He sighed, and touched the fabric of the dress. //Please,// he whispered to the night sky. //Please watch over me.// And he tried not to put his mind to work on the subject of magic.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Princess Legala nodded courteously to the courtiers who tried to catch her eye, and sat down next to her father with a regal expression. It took a lot of energy to hold herself upright, but no one noticed. Except, of course, for Haldir.
Legala looked at him fleetingly. Of course, Haldir would know. He had been the one who had brought him- her- up those long, slow, agonizing stairs. She wasn't sure, but her brother had probably come in to check on her. It was a good thing he had gone to bed- he would have demanded an explanation.
Thranduil sat forward in his seat, after glancing impassively at Legala.
"Mirkwood Council has taken time to consider your request for an alliance, and we announce that, due to an overwhelming vote, we have been forced to come to a conclusion." Legala felt a moment of panic as she caught sight of Thranduil's grave expression.
"We cannot ally ourselves with Lorien, unless we know the exact and complete nature of this enemy, which supposedly resides in the Dimrill Dale." Thranduil sat back, a serene expression on his face, amid the murmers of the court.
Legala could have cried with relief as Rumil stood up. //Thank ye Valar,// she thought, forcing herself to breathe normally. //He has a response. Oh, Vala, can't adar see that the enemy is dangerous to us as well?//
"Lorien has anticipated this, and sent an account of the enemy. It appears to be some form of magecraft by a force, a force which appears to be alike to the Istari. We are not yet sure, but we have reason to believe that the enemy within Dimrill Dale is magical in nature. It is extremely likely that our enemy is one of the Istarii, possibly two. They appear, in fact, to be the two whose names history has shadowed." Rumil paused for breath, and Orophin grimly handed him a scroll.
"The enemy is estimated to be made of spiders, an assortment of subverted Elves, and at least two thousand orcs. We suspect that there are a few trolls among them, but that suspicion remains unconfirmed. There are at least 2,500 beings within the Dale. The Lady Galadriel's attempts to discover my means of her mind the exact number have been dispelled, and every patrol sent within a twenty-yard perimeter has come back either wounded or not at all."
Chaos erupted as Rumil sat down. Legala was stunned. //Of course. Of course. Why didn't I see it before? Lorien is famed for fighters, Imladris is the place of healers. But Eryn Lasgalen- my city-//
//I never really thought about it before. We are the only place of mages. That's why they aren't begging at Imladris, they need offensive magic. Healing won't do much good until after the fighting.//
//They're trying to take on Istarii. Sweet Valar. We'd need more than half the mages in the entire city! Has father thought about this-?//
Legala looked at Thranduil He was idly fiddling with an invisible speck of dust on his attire, looking unconcernedly at the ruckus.
//He has.//
Legala let her head drop. //He thinks of everything// she thought dejectedly. //I can play at being a tactician, but this is far over my head when you face reality. I am no better than a diplomat.//
//He must be disappointed with me.// Legala let her disguise slip, and fell into being Legolas.
That he had magical abilities and, presumably, his mother had had them as well, was somthing he desperately did not want to know about. What if he had to use magic to defend Mirkwood? Every mage would be needed. Legolas sighed. Of course, Lorien might have counted on him having magical powers, which was yet another reason for Lorien to cement an alliance with Thranduil's house- who better than to lead an army of mages than a member of the royal household?
Legolas stood up slowly, and the rest of the council followed his lead. Suprisingly, Thranduil did not protest. He merely nodded, not looking at Legolas at all, and sat back to finish some last business with a council member.
Legolas sighed, and turned away from his father, walking out of the hall.
Angry tears began to splash down his face. He scrubbed at them in frustration. //Damnit,// he thought, quickly running into an alcove. He stifled his sobs, gritting his teeth. //Damn it all, I shouldn't be crying, I should be working to secure a treaty of alliance. I promised myself I wouldn't think about this-//
Images began to flash through his mind. The nurse, telling him once again, like every other day, his father was working. The time he spent alone, dressed in simple child-clothes, waiting for his adar to come out and play with him. Crawling, pathetically, into the councilroom, to sit at Thranduil's feet while the business was conducted. Wondering why he didn't have a mother like everyone else.
Legolas choked, and began to rock back and forth, tears streaming down his face silently and falling like stars to the ground.
A pair of boots appeared in front of him. Legolas stiffened. He had come down the hall unnoticed, he was sure. Who-?
Of course. He had forgotten that Haldir would want to know why he wasn't in bed. He had let it slip out of his mind.
Legolas looked up despairingly. Haldir paused for a few minutes, as if he was unsure of what to do. Then he sat down next to Legolas, and wrapped his arms around him awkwardly.
Legolas let himself cry until it felt like his nose was swollen to half the size of his head, and by the time he had finished, he felt tired, but warm.
(A/n: Sorry, I couldn't resist, but to all those Vanyel fans- "You're a mess, peacock." .... -_-; if you haven't read all of Mercedes Lackey's books and don't get the quote, shame on you!)
Haldir looked at him cooly, giving him a handkerchief. Legolas nodded his thanks, and blew his nose. Sniffing, he let Haldir drop his arms. He cracked a small smile.
"Sorry. I - it was stress catching up to me. My adar... we've never exactly been close. We have never even had a simple talk, not once. He's always so busy, and I always used to wish he would pay attention to me. Tonight- well, I guess something snapped.
"I figured it out. Lorien wants me to be the head, if only the decorative head, of the mage army we'll have to send once the alliance it cemented. Mutual assistance, I gather?"
Haldir nodded impassively. "Yes. We really do need you, not only the army. As you said, your public loves you. Once you get trained, I expect the mages shall form the same opinion." He smiled crookedly. "Yes, I could tell. You have no shields up, not even a small one. I can't imagine why you were overlooked. It was probably on purpose."
Legolas nodded. The Haldir folded his arms oer his chest. "So, Legala," he said in a dangerous voice, "care to explain to me exactly why you're out of bed?"
Legolas let his eyes drop. "Council. I wanted to be there," he mumbled.
"And of course, you're going back to bed straight away."
".... oh, all right," Legolas said crossly. "Baby me if you must. I hope you trip on your way down the stairs."
Haldir's laughter echoed through the halls.
*****tbc*****
A/n: Hmmmm... Readers! Let me know if you think I'm taking Legala out of character. Or my version of Legolas. Because things are only going to get more and more plotty as we progress...
Muse:.... *smacks tenderly with lead pipe*
X_x
Muse: That was for using alliteration outside poetry.
X_x
Muse: .....
X_x
Muse: ..... *pokes with stick*
X_x
Muse: I think I'll doodle on her face... *takes out a big fat red marker and begins to draw whiskers*
Oh! And by the way, farflung? Squeeee!!!!! *hugs, sobbing* You're so awesome! Your reviews are so long and wonderful! And to Silvawen, I say, dude, you kick ass.
Everyone else shall have to make do with a "You're all wonderful" for now. :P to the people who thought this story was going to suck when they first started reading. And Valentine bunnies to you all!
Disclaimer: As IF.
Chapter Eight: Only a Fool's Hope
Legolas silently cursed as he woke up enough to realize that there was a healer in the room. A concious thought returned to him, he regretfully remembered the only other healer he had ever met- an Elf named Calen.
//He was the only one who knew.//
Legolas smiled weakly at Larien. "Well," he started awkwardly, "we seem to be in a bit of a predicament. One the one hand, I owe you my life, but on the other hand, you are now part of a forbidden trail of information. Do you know what happened to the last healer who attended me?"
Larien shook her head uneasily, her chocolate-brown braids swinging slightly. Legolas looked grimly up at her.
"Luthien's Bane." It was a disease that was very, very contagious; only healers who were willing to work until they died- which wouldn't be for long- ever took assignments like that. The only time it had flared up was about the same time Legolas had broken his toe. Two entire families had fallen ill. Calen, understanding that the information he held could be forced out of him by enemies of the kingdom, had volunteered.
Luthien's Bane was called that because it caused its host to become so pale they were almost radiant. They would sweat gallons of their own body fluids, drinking and drinking, but never fast enough to balance things out. Towards the end, the victim would be constantly bathed in their own perspiration; they would emit a watery sheen that was as polished as a gemstone. As polished, some would darkly say, as a Silmaril.
Larien gulped nervously. She was a young healer, fresh from Imladris and here as a novice to study the secretive Mirkwood Elves' documents on healing. They were looking for something that would sedate and calm an Elf without knocking them out. Probably for the twins, and their almost unbearable hatred. It was an unhealthy problem, to be sure; and lately, it had begun to have physical side effects.
She nodded slowly, reluctantly. Legolas smiled. "Well, anything else you wanted to know?"
Larien sighed. "I guess I was wondering how you planned on dealing with Haldir..."
Legolas nodded and smiled weakly. "Don't worry," he said tiredly. "He's established that he prefers males."
"So he knows?"
"...no. No one knows."
"But that must be awful, Princess! Er- Prince?"
"It's all right. I'm used to being called Princess."
Larien sighed. "Well, I hope you two get along with each other."
Legolas laughed. "It would seem, to the casual observer, that we do. However..."
"He thinks you're a girl, and he doesn't view you as a mate. Bother. Well, your life must be awful." Legolas blinked.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I have never had it be otherwise; I don't know anything other than this. If you say it's awful, then it must be; but I could never say that, as I have no real idea." He looked down at his arm and wiggled his fingers tentatively. Larien smiled.
"You'll be up and about by tomorrow, at the latest. Your personal magic has healed you even faster than I could have hoped for; like every other member of the Royal House of Eryn Lasgalen, your mage blood runs strong. Some would say as strong as your mother's."
Legolas looked at her, a sad gleam in his eyes masking the shock he felt at the mention of his mother. "Did- did my adar come to see if I was all right?" he asked hopefully. Larien's eyes fell, and Legolas knew the answer before she said it.
"Romul told him privately... he asked if you were being healed already, and when he found out I was with you, he said he didn't need to come." Larien avoided looking at him as she spoke. Legolas felt his good mood deflate instantly, as though someone had jabbed it with a spear.
"Knowing adar," he said, turning his head to face the wall, "he also told Romul off for interrupting his meeting. Yes, I know he was at a Council meeting," he said, as Larien moved to speak. "He's always working. He never has time for anyone else," he choked out, trying not to cry.
Larien quietly finished removing the needles from the Princess' skin, and began to wrap bandages around his body. By the time she was finished, Legolas had his personal walls back up, and his face was as cool and serene as it had ever been.
"Larien?" he said quietly as she headed for the door. She turned, an expectant look in her eyes. He gazed impassively at her.
"I don't care what herb you use. I don't care how long it takes, or how far you have to go. All I am telling you is that I command- yes, command you- to forget."
The door shut behind her with a smooth, barely-audible click.
//Thank ye Valar. She's gone. Now. Let's see if I can think straight.// He struggled into an upright position, and tested his feet on the floor. They wobbled a bit, but then they held firm.
//I know who did it. That elf- I'll call him Arc. So, Arc has arrived into Mirkwood, the same day that the trio of Lorien delegates do. He immediately chooses to... 'mess with' Haldir. Then, a day later, he decides he is going to poison the Princess, postponing an alliance. We need that alliance as much as Lorien does- half the border patrols aren't coming home at all due to the spiders and the wild bands of orcs.// Legolas inched over to his closet door, bandages wrapped on nearly every part of his body except his face.
//So. Arc is trying to disrupt an alliance, and if anything, it looks to me as though he is from Dimrill Dale. However, his prescence contradicts what we already know about that enemy. That enemy is supposedly stupid; we were planning to bottleneck them and slaughter them. But they seem to be a good deal more intelligent than we give them credit for.// Legolas hung limply to the doorframe of his closet for a few moments, resting.
Then he walked in, and began to look for a suitable gown to wear downstairs. By no means would the Council have been ended by now, and he really didn't want to miss it.
//So. The enemy is intelligent. He may be able to use magic, which is likely, because no one but an Elf would be permitted to come iside the Hall at a banquet, and no Elf would try to kill me. I think Arc is, at best, bespelled.//
Legolas took out a simple grey robe, which attatched itself to him like a second skin. It fastened at his waist with a silver girdle, and then the skirt flared downwards, widening around his legs and allowing him to walk freely.
//Now, who do we know who is capable of bewitching? It isn't Sauron, thank the Valar. We already know that much. So, one of the Istarii? Not Gandalf. Certainly not him. Saruman is too far away. And Radagast... well, there's a possibility that is could be Radagast. The other two Istarii, no one has ever met, so they must be viewed as possible suspects.// He frowned, as he realized that his hair was in disarray.
//Or it could be a rogue mage.// That seemed far more likely than anything else so far, but just for the sake of it, Legolas backtracked.
//Okay. It might just be that Arc is insane. But that seems unlikely. He's not attracted anyone's attention, not really. And psychosis is always picked up by our mind-healers. He isn't insane. Which leaves a personal desire to disrupt things, or bewitchment.// He sighed, applying the dreaded powder to his hair.
//I'll know when I meet him.//
He took out a silver necklace, embedded with grey moonstone, and clasped it about his neck. Then he stood back, looking at himself in the mirror. The thoughts which he was trying to avoid sprang into his mind.
//Mother. They never told me you were a mage.// He sighed, and touched the fabric of the dress. //Please,// he whispered to the night sky. //Please watch over me.// And he tried not to put his mind to work on the subject of magic.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Princess Legala nodded courteously to the courtiers who tried to catch her eye, and sat down next to her father with a regal expression. It took a lot of energy to hold herself upright, but no one noticed. Except, of course, for Haldir.
Legala looked at him fleetingly. Of course, Haldir would know. He had been the one who had brought him- her- up those long, slow, agonizing stairs. She wasn't sure, but her brother had probably come in to check on her. It was a good thing he had gone to bed- he would have demanded an explanation.
Thranduil sat forward in his seat, after glancing impassively at Legala.
"Mirkwood Council has taken time to consider your request for an alliance, and we announce that, due to an overwhelming vote, we have been forced to come to a conclusion." Legala felt a moment of panic as she caught sight of Thranduil's grave expression.
"We cannot ally ourselves with Lorien, unless we know the exact and complete nature of this enemy, which supposedly resides in the Dimrill Dale." Thranduil sat back, a serene expression on his face, amid the murmers of the court.
Legala could have cried with relief as Rumil stood up. //Thank ye Valar,// she thought, forcing herself to breathe normally. //He has a response. Oh, Vala, can't adar see that the enemy is dangerous to us as well?//
"Lorien has anticipated this, and sent an account of the enemy. It appears to be some form of magecraft by a force, a force which appears to be alike to the Istari. We are not yet sure, but we have reason to believe that the enemy within Dimrill Dale is magical in nature. It is extremely likely that our enemy is one of the Istarii, possibly two. They appear, in fact, to be the two whose names history has shadowed." Rumil paused for breath, and Orophin grimly handed him a scroll.
"The enemy is estimated to be made of spiders, an assortment of subverted Elves, and at least two thousand orcs. We suspect that there are a few trolls among them, but that suspicion remains unconfirmed. There are at least 2,500 beings within the Dale. The Lady Galadriel's attempts to discover my means of her mind the exact number have been dispelled, and every patrol sent within a twenty-yard perimeter has come back either wounded or not at all."
Chaos erupted as Rumil sat down. Legala was stunned. //Of course. Of course. Why didn't I see it before? Lorien is famed for fighters, Imladris is the place of healers. But Eryn Lasgalen- my city-//
//I never really thought about it before. We are the only place of mages. That's why they aren't begging at Imladris, they need offensive magic. Healing won't do much good until after the fighting.//
//They're trying to take on Istarii. Sweet Valar. We'd need more than half the mages in the entire city! Has father thought about this-?//
Legala looked at Thranduil He was idly fiddling with an invisible speck of dust on his attire, looking unconcernedly at the ruckus.
//He has.//
Legala let her head drop. //He thinks of everything// she thought dejectedly. //I can play at being a tactician, but this is far over my head when you face reality. I am no better than a diplomat.//
//He must be disappointed with me.// Legala let her disguise slip, and fell into being Legolas.
That he had magical abilities and, presumably, his mother had had them as well, was somthing he desperately did not want to know about. What if he had to use magic to defend Mirkwood? Every mage would be needed. Legolas sighed. Of course, Lorien might have counted on him having magical powers, which was yet another reason for Lorien to cement an alliance with Thranduil's house- who better than to lead an army of mages than a member of the royal household?
Legolas stood up slowly, and the rest of the council followed his lead. Suprisingly, Thranduil did not protest. He merely nodded, not looking at Legolas at all, and sat back to finish some last business with a council member.
Legolas sighed, and turned away from his father, walking out of the hall.
Angry tears began to splash down his face. He scrubbed at them in frustration. //Damnit,// he thought, quickly running into an alcove. He stifled his sobs, gritting his teeth. //Damn it all, I shouldn't be crying, I should be working to secure a treaty of alliance. I promised myself I wouldn't think about this-//
Images began to flash through his mind. The nurse, telling him once again, like every other day, his father was working. The time he spent alone, dressed in simple child-clothes, waiting for his adar to come out and play with him. Crawling, pathetically, into the councilroom, to sit at Thranduil's feet while the business was conducted. Wondering why he didn't have a mother like everyone else.
Legolas choked, and began to rock back and forth, tears streaming down his face silently and falling like stars to the ground.
A pair of boots appeared in front of him. Legolas stiffened. He had come down the hall unnoticed, he was sure. Who-?
Of course. He had forgotten that Haldir would want to know why he wasn't in bed. He had let it slip out of his mind.
Legolas looked up despairingly. Haldir paused for a few minutes, as if he was unsure of what to do. Then he sat down next to Legolas, and wrapped his arms around him awkwardly.
Legolas let himself cry until it felt like his nose was swollen to half the size of his head, and by the time he had finished, he felt tired, but warm.
(A/n: Sorry, I couldn't resist, but to all those Vanyel fans- "You're a mess, peacock." .... -_-; if you haven't read all of Mercedes Lackey's books and don't get the quote, shame on you!)
Haldir looked at him cooly, giving him a handkerchief. Legolas nodded his thanks, and blew his nose. Sniffing, he let Haldir drop his arms. He cracked a small smile.
"Sorry. I - it was stress catching up to me. My adar... we've never exactly been close. We have never even had a simple talk, not once. He's always so busy, and I always used to wish he would pay attention to me. Tonight- well, I guess something snapped.
"I figured it out. Lorien wants me to be the head, if only the decorative head, of the mage army we'll have to send once the alliance it cemented. Mutual assistance, I gather?"
Haldir nodded impassively. "Yes. We really do need you, not only the army. As you said, your public loves you. Once you get trained, I expect the mages shall form the same opinion." He smiled crookedly. "Yes, I could tell. You have no shields up, not even a small one. I can't imagine why you were overlooked. It was probably on purpose."
Legolas nodded. The Haldir folded his arms oer his chest. "So, Legala," he said in a dangerous voice, "care to explain to me exactly why you're out of bed?"
Legolas let his eyes drop. "Council. I wanted to be there," he mumbled.
"And of course, you're going back to bed straight away."
".... oh, all right," Legolas said crossly. "Baby me if you must. I hope you trip on your way down the stairs."
Haldir's laughter echoed through the halls.
*****tbc*****
A/n: Hmmmm... Readers! Let me know if you think I'm taking Legala out of character. Or my version of Legolas. Because things are only going to get more and more plotty as we progress...
Muse:.... *smacks tenderly with lead pipe*
X_x
Muse: That was for using alliteration outside poetry.
X_x
Muse: .....
X_x
Muse: ..... *pokes with stick*
X_x
Muse: I think I'll doodle on her face... *takes out a big fat red marker and begins to draw whiskers*