Insert standard disclaimer here. I own nothing. I have nothing. If you
sue me, you too shall have nothing.
Notes: Jasta has informed me she shall be posting the latest chapter of Dark Leaf soon, but life, annoying as it is, has gotten in the way. However, as my muse has returned from her road trip from Tijuana (complete with a new tattoo and some carpet burn in VERY interesting places), I decided to trump card her and put this up.
Jan: Thank you for your informative sentence about male and female elfs. However, since I'm writing about elves, I'm not sure if that tidbit really applies.
Credit is given to a line from Jastaelf's fic "Leaf and Branch". Such a wonderful line that I had to snatch it, with her permission, of course. You'll see it, I'm sure.
Spring had come quickly, dispelling the deep chill of winter. Summer had followed swiftly after.
The Queen's gardens had bloomed and blossomed beyond all expectation. One could conjecture that having a wood elf in residence had caused the plants to rejoice in their small enclosure.
It was during the spring that the elf had started coming to the gardens on a constant basis. It was the elf's hands that had coaxed life from the trees. Perhaps the recovery of the gardens had triggered the recovery of the elf as well, for the gardens were the only place that Legolas felt well.
For the entire spring, the entire palace staff held their collective breath, watching the Queen, waiting for the sickness to end. They watched as she grew thinner and paler, and worried. The cook prepared small dainties to tempt the appetite of the mother-to-be. Valda brewed endless pots of weak tea. Lanelese and Clotild made sachets of rosemary and lavender to overpower other odors that might trigger yet another bout of vomiting.
But the gardens were the only cure for the sickness that seemed to plague Legolas morning, noon, and night. But even the gardens were a prison, hemmed in by four stone walls, and with guards who walked the walls and watched all. But they were still better than the rooms within.
The old man who tended the gardens as his father before him and his father before him had obtained saplings from outside the city and planted them in the garden. His reasoning was simply that wood elves lived in the woods, not in flowering gardens. It was his thought that providing the wood to the elf would give comfort in some way. And he was right.
The saplings spoke to the elf and he sang back to them, and the trees grew strong and thrived in their new home. The older trees listened and began to flower again. The smaller plants grew rapidly, trying to put as much into their short lives as they could before the bitter cold of winter came again.
The gardens had a small pond as well, overlooked by a small willow. It was here that Legolas spent much of the spring. The breeze off of the water combined with the shade and the song of the willow had soothed away the worst of the sickness that had confounded the elf. After all, elves do not become ill.
It was a common thing to see Legolas sitting beneath the willow on a blanket, head resting against the silvery trunk, eyes half lidded and glazed with sleep as he sought to dispel the fatigue that also took him. After all, elves do not experience exhaustion either.
The king would come and sit with Legolas every day, cajoling and eventually forcing the elf to eat some small amount of food. They would talk softly, sometimes about the old days, sometimes about the kingdom, sometimes about those around them. Legolas would never discuss the child. After all, males do not bear children.
Davyn avoided the gardens entirely after his first visit with the king. He had heard the tree's songs, and hated them. He preferred the lifeless character of the metal and stone that he worked with to the vibrant spirit of the grounds. It was much easier to use that which did not live.
Summer came and brought with it the stifling heat and storms, as well as a feeling of discord to the palace.
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Birds sang in the branches of the nearby willow. It sounded as if an entire flock had taken residence there, thought Gilby to himself. Of course that probably had happened since the elf had welcomed life back into the gardens.
That same elf stood to one side, listening intently to the birdsong, head tilted, hair blowing slightly in some breeze that was non-existent for humans. The blue eyes settled back on the man and then the elf sat on the bench across from the Minister. With legs slightly spread and hands on knees, the elf leaned forward and looked expectantly at Gilby.
The human allowed his lip to twitch in amusement. The body language was completely male, and at complete odds with the appearance of a beautiful female. Legolas allowed an eyebrow to arch delicately at the Minister's smile and then schooled his face to neutrality.
"Have you spoken to the others? Are they with us?" Legolas spoke quietly, but confidently. The birds would let him know if there was someone around to hear what was spoken. Clotild sat some distance away, out of earshot but still able to chaperone her lady.
Gilby's face went to its normal blank neutrality, amusement forgotten as his mind turned to the task at hand. "That depends." He shifted position, moving his sore leg to a more comfortable position. "The majority of the council agrees that something must be done. However, getting them all to agree to follow us is another matter."
The fair face darkened. "How so?"
The man sighed. "My sources indicate that Regin is still strongly loyal to Davyn, but he is the kind of man to see logic and sense when it is shown to him. I think we can turn him to our side. Arnlaug, of course, is with us and the majority of the council follows him. The rest are... hesitant. They are afraid of retribution from the king, even if we are successful in breaking the bond that Davyn has with him."
Legolas frowned, brow wrinkled up. Gilby braced himself for the mood swing he felt coming. "What is it that they want? What more can I possibly do to convince them? Haven't I been through enough?" The last sentence was painful for the sheer venom in the musical voice.
Gilby looked to the sky behind the blonde head. The clouds had turned dark and foreboding, the air heavy. A storm was brewing that would break on their heads soon. Lightning flashed from cloud top to cloud top while he watched. He turned his attention back to the elf in front of him, and then down to the now visible swell at the stomach. "The fact that you are most obviously bearing an heir to the kingdom has simplified things. Once the child is born, I am sure the rest will fall into line."
Shaking his head slowly, Legolas replied quietly, "I do not wish to discuss such things." Long fingers twitched fabric over a stomach that was no longer flat in a futile attempt to hide what was now there, more from himself than from the man. "I am not bearing a child. I have no wish to bear a child. I will not bear a child." The quiet voice belied the steel that lay behind the words.
The wind had picked up now and was now blowing the long blonde hair wildly about. With a sound of irritation, Legolas grasped his now waist length hair and tried to control it. "I have asked if I could cut my hair, but he will not allow it. I suppose it is yet another way that he controls me." With deft hands the elf began to braid the long locks into a pattern that he had not worn in months, fingers remembering design that was older than the city of Minas Tirith, plaits that marked one an elven warrior of the Sindarian branch.
Hair now tamed, the elf looked back to the Minister with an expectant look. "Even if we cannot break the bond between them, the mage must be removed. The question is how? We cannot have everything resting in just one basket."
Gilby leaned forward, his voice the barest whisper. "There is one other way, one we would not like to use. Once we have confirmed that there is a male heir to the throne." He held up a hand to stop Legolas from speaking, "Then we can remove the Mage AND the king if he resists. A regency can be set up to rule in the name of the child." He paused for a moment. "Of course, we do not want to do this unless there is no other choice. We have just gotten our king back after so many years. It would be a shame to have to lose him so quickly. "
Legolas shook his head, eyes flashing. Lighting crashed somewhere behind them, illuminating them both in a bright blue light. "I will have nothing do to with that. I will not be party in any plot to take the life of an innocent." ::And Aragorn is an innocent, whether or not you realize it:: His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, unable to speak those words.
The man sat back, his eyes veiled. "Of course not. Nor would you be expected to be part of that. We expect that you will be able to work in other ways before we would ever have to go to that extreme. But we must remember what is best for our kingdom."
"Yes, yes. For the good of Gondor. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard that, and how sick unto death I am of hearing it." The elf looked up into the now black sky. With the braids and the intent look, the man could see illuminated by lightning the elven warrior within the fair body that was before him. "The storm will break soon. We should retreat inside." Legolas spoke with some reluctance, but the lighting strikes were coming closer, and the thunder growled like an untamed beast.
With some difficulty Gilby rose to his feet and then gestured to Clotild who waited nervously nearby. The rain began to fall then, large drops that stung when they hit. The elf stopped, face turned to the skies, and arms outspread as if taking a lover. The maid tugged for a moment on the sleeve and then on the arm itself. The elf looked lost for a moment, and then focused on the humans, and followed them inside with a lingering look to the skies beyond.
Lanelese had laid a fire in the hearth to take the dampness from the air and lit the lamps in the now dark room. Thunder crashed and boomed, causing the glass in the windows to shake. The sky was violently dark, illuminated only by the slashes of lightning that seemed to be tears in the essence of the heavens, showing the bright light of the void beyond.
Legolas moved to the window and opened it, catching the precious glass pane before the wind could snatch them away and into the wall, shattering them into a million pieces of reflected starlight. He stood there, feeling the almost cold wind blow across him and through his hair, and watched the trees blow in the garden below. He could hear their song of joy at the freedom of the rain and wind, and could feel the same song swell in his own heart. The smell of the rain brought with it memories of home, and the time before he had been trapped here, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent.
He did not realize he was being watched until he heard a gasp next to him. The lightning flashed again, illuminating the face of Aragorn with a cold, blue light. The man stared at the elf, and then slowly raised a hand to touch the wet braid.
Aragorn's face twisted, emotions playing faster than could be read. Amazement changed to agony to anger in the blink of an eye, and then his hand fell heavily on the thin arm, the hand tightening painfully as he hauled the elf way from the window and into the room. The wind howled mournfully through the window, as if calling for a lost friend.
"This", said Aragorn in a low, menacing voice as he pulled the braid again, "is forbidden." He then turned to Lanelese who had walked again into the room, and froze, eyes wide at the expression of rage on the king's face. "THIS IS FORBIDDEN. I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT!" His voice dueled with the thunder for dominance.
The maid curtseyed deeply and then stuttered, "I… I'm sorry, Majesty. I will…" Her hands fumbled in her skirts, searching for a comb so that she could remove the offending braid as quickly as possible. Her face was pale with fear.
Legolas shrugged the hand off of his arm and stepped in front of Lanelese. "I braided my own hair, Aragorn. She had nothing to do with it. It is, after all, my hair. I should be able to do what I please with it." He shook his head to dislodge the small fingers that were even now trying to pull out the braid.
The gray eyes narrowed, and the thin lips curved into a mirthless smile. "No. Your hair, like the rest of you, is mine. Perhaps you need another lesson to remind you of your position here." He pushed the elf roughly to one side and then turned his cold gaze upon the small woman who trembled in front of him. "I cannot have you beaten for your willfulness, but there must be a punishment."
With a sudden movement, the king snatched Lanelese's forearm and dragged her up to him. He held her small face in his large hand and turned her to look at Legolas. "Look at the one who is responsible for your punishment, little one. You can tell your mistress tomorrow how each lash felt as it fell across your shoulders." With each word, Lanelese's blue eyes got wider and began to fill with tears. The thunder roared like a hungry lion.
Face grim and filled with anger, Legolas spoke firmly. "Aragorn, let her go. She is innocent. She's done nothing wrong."
"Of course she's done nothing wrong." The fingers were starting to make bruises on the girl's pale cheeks. "But you have. And since I can't do anything to you as you are now, perhaps if I do this you'll think before defy me again."
Legolas looked into the eyes of the maid, trying to calm her with a look. He then raised his eyes to those of Aragorn, and asked quietly, "Why do you do this? This is not something the Aragorn I knew would do."
The maid's soft sobs were the only sound in the room for a long moment. Even the fury of the storm had lessened, as if it too were holding its breath and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly the hand on the girl's face opened, and Lanelese staggered free. She hesitated for a moment before running from the room.
The king lifted his hand and gently took the elf by the chin and looked closely at what he held there. Proud blue eyes met his without fear, and in the harsh flash of lightning he could see a warrior's soul. His other hand raised and began to slowly unwind the braids, and in a soft voice he said, "I cannot bear to see you as you were before. The pain is too great."
Reaching up and grabbing the hand, Legolas whispered back. "You cannot make me forget what I am, Aragorn." After a moment, he continued. "You can stop this at any time. You only have to choose to do so. The choice is yours."
The king froze, his eyes fixed on the elf. "And what choice would you give me?" His body was taut, waiting.
Legolas narrowed his eyes. This was something that he had considered for months. What choice could he offer the King of Gondor? ::I cannot offer power, for that is beyond my reach now. I cannot offer riches, for he does not lust for them. I cannot offer eternal life or health or any such thing; that is beyond my power to give. I have only one thing to give, and if I do so I may never be free, at least until he dies.:: He thought. ::But if I get his freedom, then I am sure to have mine soon after. I hope::
"I will give you all that I am. I will be obedient to you, I will not try to escape you, and I will willingly give you all that you want, including children if that is your wish. I will stay with you until you die, in this form that you have given me, if you so wish." He closed his eyes for a long moment, and suppressed a sob at what he was offering. "I will stay with you and bind myself to you. I cannot do what Arwen did, as I have no human blood and no ability to choose to be mortal, but I can stay with you and try to make you happy for the rest of your days."
Aragorn lowered his hand gently to the slender shoulder. "And what must I do to get this from you?" His voice was thoughtful and quiet.
"You must divest yourself of your mage. Rid yourself of him and all his… works. For this and this alone I will give you what I have promised." The elf swallowed hard. "I swear it." There. It was said and sworn. There was no going back.
The king raised his hand to finger the gold torc around his neck as he thought, and then he shook his head sadly. "I know what it cost you to make such an offer. It cost you everything you had, little one. But I already have everything you offered, even if it is not willing. Even if you do not choose to accept the fact, you already bear a child. Even if you do not want to admit it, you are bound to me. What you offer is, in effect, worthless."
The king turned to look into the fire for a moment, and then back to the elf. "Davyn gives his power and knowledge to improve my kingdom. He benefits Gondor as a whole. And while having you give me all you offer willingly would make me very happy, my happiness is not worth giving up what benefits the kingdom as a whole." He walked to the door and looked back over his shoulder. "I am sorry." The door closed quietly behind him as he left.
Legolas walked slowly to the open window. The storm outside had weakened, the thunder now merely a far off rumble, the lightning mere flickers against the gray sky. Numbly, he closed the window and then walked to the mirror to look at the woman within.
He slowly sank to his knees and then to sit in front of her, tilting the mirror to follow him as he sank. He leaned back against the wall behind him and then looked slightly up at the woman who sat there next to him.
"I gambled everything I had, and I lost." That seemed to be the best way to say it. She shook her head despondently back at him.
"I don't know what else to do. I have nothing else to give." Together, they bowed their heads, weariness etched in every movement. "Nothing."
It was at this moment that he felt the sensation that he had denied existed. A flutter, a roll, a kick. The woman in the mirror placed her hand on her swollen stomach and then looked back up into the mirror, meeting his eyes. Their eyes met, the fear he felt visible in her eyes. "This cannot be real. This cannot be happening."
Her eyes turned reproving, reminding him that they both knew that this was real, that this was happening, and together they knew it all along, even if they would not admit it to themselves. The child kicked again, this time almost painfully, and Legolas placed his hand on his stomach and looked back to the mirror. "I fear I must accept this, and perhaps accept that you and I are the same person. I wonder if that is such a bad thing, that you and I are one in the same? Would I lose myself, do you think?"
They studied each other for a few moments, while the child moved and kicked. With a sudden movement, Legolas rose to his knees, and then to his feet. He met the deep gaze of the woman in the mirror without fear and touched the glass, fingertip to fingertip to her. He spoke softly, but distinctly in his own language, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil the son of Oropher, of the Kings of Mirkwood the Great. Prince of the Sindar from the Great Forest, I am the descendant of the Shining ones of the Teleri, a child of the Eldar. I was born of the breath of Iluvatar the Father of All, and Elbereth Star-Kindler shines down on me every night, as she has done since I was born. And you are me. And I remain what I am, no matter what is done to me."
He smiled at himself in the mirror, and then looked down at his stomach. "I may have nothing left to give", he said quietly, "But there is something of value that I can take, if needs be."
Notes: Jasta has informed me she shall be posting the latest chapter of Dark Leaf soon, but life, annoying as it is, has gotten in the way. However, as my muse has returned from her road trip from Tijuana (complete with a new tattoo and some carpet burn in VERY interesting places), I decided to trump card her and put this up.
Jan: Thank you for your informative sentence about male and female elfs. However, since I'm writing about elves, I'm not sure if that tidbit really applies.
Credit is given to a line from Jastaelf's fic "Leaf and Branch". Such a wonderful line that I had to snatch it, with her permission, of course. You'll see it, I'm sure.
Spring had come quickly, dispelling the deep chill of winter. Summer had followed swiftly after.
The Queen's gardens had bloomed and blossomed beyond all expectation. One could conjecture that having a wood elf in residence had caused the plants to rejoice in their small enclosure.
It was during the spring that the elf had started coming to the gardens on a constant basis. It was the elf's hands that had coaxed life from the trees. Perhaps the recovery of the gardens had triggered the recovery of the elf as well, for the gardens were the only place that Legolas felt well.
For the entire spring, the entire palace staff held their collective breath, watching the Queen, waiting for the sickness to end. They watched as she grew thinner and paler, and worried. The cook prepared small dainties to tempt the appetite of the mother-to-be. Valda brewed endless pots of weak tea. Lanelese and Clotild made sachets of rosemary and lavender to overpower other odors that might trigger yet another bout of vomiting.
But the gardens were the only cure for the sickness that seemed to plague Legolas morning, noon, and night. But even the gardens were a prison, hemmed in by four stone walls, and with guards who walked the walls and watched all. But they were still better than the rooms within.
The old man who tended the gardens as his father before him and his father before him had obtained saplings from outside the city and planted them in the garden. His reasoning was simply that wood elves lived in the woods, not in flowering gardens. It was his thought that providing the wood to the elf would give comfort in some way. And he was right.
The saplings spoke to the elf and he sang back to them, and the trees grew strong and thrived in their new home. The older trees listened and began to flower again. The smaller plants grew rapidly, trying to put as much into their short lives as they could before the bitter cold of winter came again.
The gardens had a small pond as well, overlooked by a small willow. It was here that Legolas spent much of the spring. The breeze off of the water combined with the shade and the song of the willow had soothed away the worst of the sickness that had confounded the elf. After all, elves do not become ill.
It was a common thing to see Legolas sitting beneath the willow on a blanket, head resting against the silvery trunk, eyes half lidded and glazed with sleep as he sought to dispel the fatigue that also took him. After all, elves do not experience exhaustion either.
The king would come and sit with Legolas every day, cajoling and eventually forcing the elf to eat some small amount of food. They would talk softly, sometimes about the old days, sometimes about the kingdom, sometimes about those around them. Legolas would never discuss the child. After all, males do not bear children.
Davyn avoided the gardens entirely after his first visit with the king. He had heard the tree's songs, and hated them. He preferred the lifeless character of the metal and stone that he worked with to the vibrant spirit of the grounds. It was much easier to use that which did not live.
Summer came and brought with it the stifling heat and storms, as well as a feeling of discord to the palace.
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Birds sang in the branches of the nearby willow. It sounded as if an entire flock had taken residence there, thought Gilby to himself. Of course that probably had happened since the elf had welcomed life back into the gardens.
That same elf stood to one side, listening intently to the birdsong, head tilted, hair blowing slightly in some breeze that was non-existent for humans. The blue eyes settled back on the man and then the elf sat on the bench across from the Minister. With legs slightly spread and hands on knees, the elf leaned forward and looked expectantly at Gilby.
The human allowed his lip to twitch in amusement. The body language was completely male, and at complete odds with the appearance of a beautiful female. Legolas allowed an eyebrow to arch delicately at the Minister's smile and then schooled his face to neutrality.
"Have you spoken to the others? Are they with us?" Legolas spoke quietly, but confidently. The birds would let him know if there was someone around to hear what was spoken. Clotild sat some distance away, out of earshot but still able to chaperone her lady.
Gilby's face went to its normal blank neutrality, amusement forgotten as his mind turned to the task at hand. "That depends." He shifted position, moving his sore leg to a more comfortable position. "The majority of the council agrees that something must be done. However, getting them all to agree to follow us is another matter."
The fair face darkened. "How so?"
The man sighed. "My sources indicate that Regin is still strongly loyal to Davyn, but he is the kind of man to see logic and sense when it is shown to him. I think we can turn him to our side. Arnlaug, of course, is with us and the majority of the council follows him. The rest are... hesitant. They are afraid of retribution from the king, even if we are successful in breaking the bond that Davyn has with him."
Legolas frowned, brow wrinkled up. Gilby braced himself for the mood swing he felt coming. "What is it that they want? What more can I possibly do to convince them? Haven't I been through enough?" The last sentence was painful for the sheer venom in the musical voice.
Gilby looked to the sky behind the blonde head. The clouds had turned dark and foreboding, the air heavy. A storm was brewing that would break on their heads soon. Lightning flashed from cloud top to cloud top while he watched. He turned his attention back to the elf in front of him, and then down to the now visible swell at the stomach. "The fact that you are most obviously bearing an heir to the kingdom has simplified things. Once the child is born, I am sure the rest will fall into line."
Shaking his head slowly, Legolas replied quietly, "I do not wish to discuss such things." Long fingers twitched fabric over a stomach that was no longer flat in a futile attempt to hide what was now there, more from himself than from the man. "I am not bearing a child. I have no wish to bear a child. I will not bear a child." The quiet voice belied the steel that lay behind the words.
The wind had picked up now and was now blowing the long blonde hair wildly about. With a sound of irritation, Legolas grasped his now waist length hair and tried to control it. "I have asked if I could cut my hair, but he will not allow it. I suppose it is yet another way that he controls me." With deft hands the elf began to braid the long locks into a pattern that he had not worn in months, fingers remembering design that was older than the city of Minas Tirith, plaits that marked one an elven warrior of the Sindarian branch.
Hair now tamed, the elf looked back to the Minister with an expectant look. "Even if we cannot break the bond between them, the mage must be removed. The question is how? We cannot have everything resting in just one basket."
Gilby leaned forward, his voice the barest whisper. "There is one other way, one we would not like to use. Once we have confirmed that there is a male heir to the throne." He held up a hand to stop Legolas from speaking, "Then we can remove the Mage AND the king if he resists. A regency can be set up to rule in the name of the child." He paused for a moment. "Of course, we do not want to do this unless there is no other choice. We have just gotten our king back after so many years. It would be a shame to have to lose him so quickly. "
Legolas shook his head, eyes flashing. Lighting crashed somewhere behind them, illuminating them both in a bright blue light. "I will have nothing do to with that. I will not be party in any plot to take the life of an innocent." ::And Aragorn is an innocent, whether or not you realize it:: His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, unable to speak those words.
The man sat back, his eyes veiled. "Of course not. Nor would you be expected to be part of that. We expect that you will be able to work in other ways before we would ever have to go to that extreme. But we must remember what is best for our kingdom."
"Yes, yes. For the good of Gondor. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard that, and how sick unto death I am of hearing it." The elf looked up into the now black sky. With the braids and the intent look, the man could see illuminated by lightning the elven warrior within the fair body that was before him. "The storm will break soon. We should retreat inside." Legolas spoke with some reluctance, but the lighting strikes were coming closer, and the thunder growled like an untamed beast.
With some difficulty Gilby rose to his feet and then gestured to Clotild who waited nervously nearby. The rain began to fall then, large drops that stung when they hit. The elf stopped, face turned to the skies, and arms outspread as if taking a lover. The maid tugged for a moment on the sleeve and then on the arm itself. The elf looked lost for a moment, and then focused on the humans, and followed them inside with a lingering look to the skies beyond.
Lanelese had laid a fire in the hearth to take the dampness from the air and lit the lamps in the now dark room. Thunder crashed and boomed, causing the glass in the windows to shake. The sky was violently dark, illuminated only by the slashes of lightning that seemed to be tears in the essence of the heavens, showing the bright light of the void beyond.
Legolas moved to the window and opened it, catching the precious glass pane before the wind could snatch them away and into the wall, shattering them into a million pieces of reflected starlight. He stood there, feeling the almost cold wind blow across him and through his hair, and watched the trees blow in the garden below. He could hear their song of joy at the freedom of the rain and wind, and could feel the same song swell in his own heart. The smell of the rain brought with it memories of home, and the time before he had been trapped here, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent.
He did not realize he was being watched until he heard a gasp next to him. The lightning flashed again, illuminating the face of Aragorn with a cold, blue light. The man stared at the elf, and then slowly raised a hand to touch the wet braid.
Aragorn's face twisted, emotions playing faster than could be read. Amazement changed to agony to anger in the blink of an eye, and then his hand fell heavily on the thin arm, the hand tightening painfully as he hauled the elf way from the window and into the room. The wind howled mournfully through the window, as if calling for a lost friend.
"This", said Aragorn in a low, menacing voice as he pulled the braid again, "is forbidden." He then turned to Lanelese who had walked again into the room, and froze, eyes wide at the expression of rage on the king's face. "THIS IS FORBIDDEN. I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT!" His voice dueled with the thunder for dominance.
The maid curtseyed deeply and then stuttered, "I… I'm sorry, Majesty. I will…" Her hands fumbled in her skirts, searching for a comb so that she could remove the offending braid as quickly as possible. Her face was pale with fear.
Legolas shrugged the hand off of his arm and stepped in front of Lanelese. "I braided my own hair, Aragorn. She had nothing to do with it. It is, after all, my hair. I should be able to do what I please with it." He shook his head to dislodge the small fingers that were even now trying to pull out the braid.
The gray eyes narrowed, and the thin lips curved into a mirthless smile. "No. Your hair, like the rest of you, is mine. Perhaps you need another lesson to remind you of your position here." He pushed the elf roughly to one side and then turned his cold gaze upon the small woman who trembled in front of him. "I cannot have you beaten for your willfulness, but there must be a punishment."
With a sudden movement, the king snatched Lanelese's forearm and dragged her up to him. He held her small face in his large hand and turned her to look at Legolas. "Look at the one who is responsible for your punishment, little one. You can tell your mistress tomorrow how each lash felt as it fell across your shoulders." With each word, Lanelese's blue eyes got wider and began to fill with tears. The thunder roared like a hungry lion.
Face grim and filled with anger, Legolas spoke firmly. "Aragorn, let her go. She is innocent. She's done nothing wrong."
"Of course she's done nothing wrong." The fingers were starting to make bruises on the girl's pale cheeks. "But you have. And since I can't do anything to you as you are now, perhaps if I do this you'll think before defy me again."
Legolas looked into the eyes of the maid, trying to calm her with a look. He then raised his eyes to those of Aragorn, and asked quietly, "Why do you do this? This is not something the Aragorn I knew would do."
The maid's soft sobs were the only sound in the room for a long moment. Even the fury of the storm had lessened, as if it too were holding its breath and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly the hand on the girl's face opened, and Lanelese staggered free. She hesitated for a moment before running from the room.
The king lifted his hand and gently took the elf by the chin and looked closely at what he held there. Proud blue eyes met his without fear, and in the harsh flash of lightning he could see a warrior's soul. His other hand raised and began to slowly unwind the braids, and in a soft voice he said, "I cannot bear to see you as you were before. The pain is too great."
Reaching up and grabbing the hand, Legolas whispered back. "You cannot make me forget what I am, Aragorn." After a moment, he continued. "You can stop this at any time. You only have to choose to do so. The choice is yours."
The king froze, his eyes fixed on the elf. "And what choice would you give me?" His body was taut, waiting.
Legolas narrowed his eyes. This was something that he had considered for months. What choice could he offer the King of Gondor? ::I cannot offer power, for that is beyond my reach now. I cannot offer riches, for he does not lust for them. I cannot offer eternal life or health or any such thing; that is beyond my power to give. I have only one thing to give, and if I do so I may never be free, at least until he dies.:: He thought. ::But if I get his freedom, then I am sure to have mine soon after. I hope::
"I will give you all that I am. I will be obedient to you, I will not try to escape you, and I will willingly give you all that you want, including children if that is your wish. I will stay with you until you die, in this form that you have given me, if you so wish." He closed his eyes for a long moment, and suppressed a sob at what he was offering. "I will stay with you and bind myself to you. I cannot do what Arwen did, as I have no human blood and no ability to choose to be mortal, but I can stay with you and try to make you happy for the rest of your days."
Aragorn lowered his hand gently to the slender shoulder. "And what must I do to get this from you?" His voice was thoughtful and quiet.
"You must divest yourself of your mage. Rid yourself of him and all his… works. For this and this alone I will give you what I have promised." The elf swallowed hard. "I swear it." There. It was said and sworn. There was no going back.
The king raised his hand to finger the gold torc around his neck as he thought, and then he shook his head sadly. "I know what it cost you to make such an offer. It cost you everything you had, little one. But I already have everything you offered, even if it is not willing. Even if you do not choose to accept the fact, you already bear a child. Even if you do not want to admit it, you are bound to me. What you offer is, in effect, worthless."
The king turned to look into the fire for a moment, and then back to the elf. "Davyn gives his power and knowledge to improve my kingdom. He benefits Gondor as a whole. And while having you give me all you offer willingly would make me very happy, my happiness is not worth giving up what benefits the kingdom as a whole." He walked to the door and looked back over his shoulder. "I am sorry." The door closed quietly behind him as he left.
Legolas walked slowly to the open window. The storm outside had weakened, the thunder now merely a far off rumble, the lightning mere flickers against the gray sky. Numbly, he closed the window and then walked to the mirror to look at the woman within.
He slowly sank to his knees and then to sit in front of her, tilting the mirror to follow him as he sank. He leaned back against the wall behind him and then looked slightly up at the woman who sat there next to him.
"I gambled everything I had, and I lost." That seemed to be the best way to say it. She shook her head despondently back at him.
"I don't know what else to do. I have nothing else to give." Together, they bowed their heads, weariness etched in every movement. "Nothing."
It was at this moment that he felt the sensation that he had denied existed. A flutter, a roll, a kick. The woman in the mirror placed her hand on her swollen stomach and then looked back up into the mirror, meeting his eyes. Their eyes met, the fear he felt visible in her eyes. "This cannot be real. This cannot be happening."
Her eyes turned reproving, reminding him that they both knew that this was real, that this was happening, and together they knew it all along, even if they would not admit it to themselves. The child kicked again, this time almost painfully, and Legolas placed his hand on his stomach and looked back to the mirror. "I fear I must accept this, and perhaps accept that you and I are the same person. I wonder if that is such a bad thing, that you and I are one in the same? Would I lose myself, do you think?"
They studied each other for a few moments, while the child moved and kicked. With a sudden movement, Legolas rose to his knees, and then to his feet. He met the deep gaze of the woman in the mirror without fear and touched the glass, fingertip to fingertip to her. He spoke softly, but distinctly in his own language, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil the son of Oropher, of the Kings of Mirkwood the Great. Prince of the Sindar from the Great Forest, I am the descendant of the Shining ones of the Teleri, a child of the Eldar. I was born of the breath of Iluvatar the Father of All, and Elbereth Star-Kindler shines down on me every night, as she has done since I was born. And you are me. And I remain what I am, no matter what is done to me."
He smiled at himself in the mirror, and then looked down at his stomach. "I may have nothing left to give", he said quietly, "But there is something of value that I can take, if needs be."