The weeks spent traveling back to Gondor were torture for Legolas. It was already difficult enough to hide his deteriorating condition from his husband; trying to keep it a secret from the hobbits as well was almost impossible. He was succeeding – for the most part – in controlling the mood swings, but his stomach refused to cooperate. Slipping away at a moment's notice to hide the results of his nausea was not easy when one was around others almost every second of the day. Worst of all, Legolas was absolutely exhausted and he could no longer hide that from his companions.
He bristled as Aragorn rode even closer to his side. "Are you trying to ride on top of me?" he asked, allowing some irritation to creep into his voice.
"I'm just worried," answered Aragorn defensively while guiding Hasufel a minuscule distance away from Arod. "You gave us all quite a scare yesterday; I've never seen Pippin so upset!"
Ah, yes; yesterday. Legolas had drifted off to sleep during a long stretch of riding and almost fallen from Arod's back. When he'd awoken, he was spread out on the ground looking up into the concerned faces of Aragorn, Sam, Rose, and Elanor. Merry was sitting a short distance away holding Pippin, who'd broken down in hysterical sobs the second he saw the elf slump. The poor hobbit was convinced he was dead; Legolas was just lucky that he hadn't spilled his secret.
"I just needed a little rest," Legolas said softly. "I didn't mean to worry anyone."
Aragorn hesitated for a second and then spoke. "I think it would be better if we didn't journey the rest of the way to Minas Tirith until tomorrow."
Legolas felt slightly insulted. "I can still carry on," he snapped. "No need to make everyone camp out another night on my account."
"What is –"Aragorn began, but thought better of it. He could find out what was wrong with his husband later, when there wouldn't be an audience for the ensuing fight. "I just thought it would be nice to stay in Ithilien tonight. That way, we can all be at our freshest when we arrive at the city and you can visit with your father."
It was a selfless offer to make and Legolas knew it. They would have to veer from their path to get there and Aragorn could have easily used that as an excuse not to have to spend time around Thranduil. While they respected each other as rulers and accepted the other's love for Legolas, their own relationship was best described as "strained." The elven king was uncomfortable with the fact that his son was married and dealt with it by not acknowledging Aragorn's existence unless it was absolutely necessary. The Man hated how Thranduil could still make if feel like that 21-year-old ranger whom he'd caught kissing Legolas in that meadow in Mirkwood. He tried to cover it up with nervous babbling that did nothing to endear him to his father-in-law. Knowing that he'd deal with that in order to give him the chance to lean on his father for support before returning to the pressures of the court meant a lot to Legolas.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I love you so much, even when I'm being horrible."
"You're not," replied Aragorn firmly. "Remember, you don't have to be the perfect Sun Star for me; I prefer the real Legolas. Besides," he added, hoping to lighten the mood, "your father probably wants to see you as soon as possible. I swear, he'd sleep in between us if we'd let him. That would make our sex life a little difficult, wouldn't it? Well, perhaps not; it's not like we don't have sex during –"
"Aragorn, stop!" cried the horrified, if amused, elf. Aragorn's jaw snapped shut. "I beg you in the name of Elbereth, please don't mention our sex life in Ada's presence."
"Right."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOThe land of Ithilien was stunning to behold. It looked like a place that was blessed by the wood elves, which in fact it was. While Legolas couldn't deny that he was saddened when the elves of Mirkwood decided to leave that ancient realm to either depart for Valinor or to relocate to Ithilien by the Anduin River, he knew that his father made the right choice. The elves that remained out of love and loyalty to Mirkwood's royal family shouldn't have to risk life and pain defending a dwindling realm from giant spiders when such an ideal land would graciously welcome them. Now those traditionally xenophobic people were living side-by-side with the Men governed directly by the Steward Faramir, practically in the shadow of Minas Tirith. It made for an interesting situation, to say the least.
"Mae govannen, ion nin!" cried Thranduil, throwing his arms around his son. "My Little Greenleaf! Oh, how I missed you. You've been away far too long once again."
He pulled away to study Legolas more carefully, but still clutched at his arms. "Have you been sleeping?" he fussed, a frown deepening on his face. Legolas sighed inwardly; his Ada didn't seem to know how to be anything but pointedly direct. "It doesn't look like you have. I know that you've told Gimil that you don't need a lot of sleep, but trying to get some every night is still a good idea."
"Has Gimli been here?" asked Legolas incredulously. He still couldn't get used to his father's friendship with the dwarf. Apparently an ages-old prejudice against one another's race and a personal grievance involving an incident with Gimli's father – among others – and Mirkwood's dungeons could easily be overcome by a shared belief that Legolas needed their constant guidance, protection, and presence to lead a good life.
"A few times," replied Thranduil casually, not breaking away from his scrutiny. "Hobbit food seems to be good for you. You were always a bit too skinny, but now you've filled out a bit. Perhaps your guests can make more of it during their visit, and instruct those mortal cooks at the palace how to prepare a proper meal. Welcome, hobbits!"
"Mae govannen, King Thranduil," Sam, Merry, and Pippin greeted in unison, sounding very much like children reciting something for school. They were a bit uncomfortable in the presence of the unfamiliar elf and Thranduil's rather dominant personality did little to put them at ease.
"This is Sam's family, Ada," presented Legolas, trying to break the ice. "Rose, his wife, and their children Elanor and Frodo."
Ever bold and curious, Elanor marched forward right up to the elven king. "Are you old enough to be Legolas' father?" she demanded suspiciously.
Rose and Sam looked like they wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there, but Thranduil wasn't fazed a bit; he of all people could appreciate bluntness. "Yes," he replied in a businesslike tone. "Do you own a toy sword?"
"No."
"Thank Elbereth," he declared. "For you are about the same age as Findowyn, the Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn's daughter, and she does have one. She keeps poking me with it, calling me a balrog and other such nonsense; she's heard the story of Glorfindel too many times. She's not a bad child, mind you – a bit like my Legolas, in fact, with an overabundance of spirit – but I cannot say that I have not enjoyed the quiet since she went with her parents to Minas Tirith, so her father could manage it in the king's absence."
A look of remembrance flashed across his face and he turned to Aragorn. "Hello," he said rather stiffly. "I suppose I should tell you that Elladan and Elrohir arrived two days ago. They await your return in the city."
"Thank you," replied Aragorn equally rigid.
They all stood in silence for a moment, just feeling the tension in the air. "Well," blurted out Merry, desperate to escape all the discomfort. "I suppose we should be getting to bed then. Long day and all tomorrow."
"Yes, of course," agreed Thranduil hurriedly, sounding more than a little grateful at the respite. "Let me see; hobbits like to sleep close to the ground, correct?" He barely gave them the chance to nod before continuing. "A very strange habit indeed. Oh, well. The Men of this land built an inn that is nice enough, I suppose, as far as those things go. You should all be quite comfortable there. Legolas, you'll be staying with me, of course."
Legolas frowned at the order and its implications. "Do you that Aragorn should stay at the inn as well?" he asked warily.
"One night would not..."
"Aragorn and I are married now, Ada," he interrupted firmly. "There is no reason why I shouldn't stay where he's lodging."
"Oh, that's okay," rushed out Aragorn, seeing an opportunity to perhaps improve his relationship with his father-in-law. "You stay here with your father; I know that you miss being able to sleep in the trees. Besides, it's no hardship on me, since we sleep together all the time!"
Thranduil looked at him sharply, horror in his expression. "I didn't mean it like that," the Man retracted desperately. "I just meant that we share a bed all the time, not that we do – that – all the time. I don't have the stamina of an elf, after all! Not that I'm not fulfilling my husbandly duties; let me assure you that Legolas is well satis-"
"Aragorn!" cried Legolas, thoroughly mortified for both himself and his love. "Show the hobbits to the inn," he instructed, pacing his words deliberately as if talking to a small child. "Then you may return here. We will sleep on one of the talans. That way, Ada and I can spend some time alone before we retire. Okay?"
"Yes. Good idea," nodded Aragorn vigorously, beet-red and eager to get away from Thranduil's glare. Legolas' father looked like he wanted to remove choice parts of his anatomy. "Come along, my dear friends."
Merry and Sam managed to wait until they were somewhat out of earshot from the two elves before cracking up with laughter. "Oh, Strider," hooted Merry. "I want to thank you. Now every time I say something incredibly stupid to a lass' father, I'll remember this and feel so much better!"
"Now, now," Sam mock-scolded. "Don't go judging him so harsh. I'm sure that Thranduil was very happy to learn how much stamina his son has."
"Or how much he satisfies him in the sack!" added Merry, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face.
"Stop it!" demanded Pippin, upset. He hadn't been in a joking mood since Legolas confided in him at Bree and was determined to find some way to provide the prince with some comfort without spilling the beans. "Legolas was really upset back there. You should do something to get along with his father, Strider, if only for his sake."
"I've tried!" lamented Aragorn. "But there doesn't seem to be a way to do it. I'm afraid, Pippin, that it will take something big to forge any kind of bond between Thranduil and myself."
To be continued...