Disclaimer: Don't own...
A/N: Hey guys!! I am sooooooooooo sorry I didn't have this up earlier!! I was really busy, and then, when I did manage to write it and send it to my beta, she was really busy, too! So, yeah, the next chaper will be longer and will be up before the end of June, I promise!! My apologies for the wait.
A HUGE thanks to my beta: Sirith. Without her, I'd be hopelessly lost, and my story wouldn't be worth beans. Not tthat it is now or anything...
12 reviews or you guys won't see the next chapter!
(I won't be doing responses to reviews this time! Sorry!)
"What funeral? What is he talking about?" Legolas asked.
"The King of Harad passed away yesterday. They are burying him today," Liana explained. She continued her survey of checking Legolas' wounds over as if the royal death was nothing out of the ordinary.
"But... but who is the new king?" Legolas questioned. He prayed to the Valar that the answer wasn't Damean.
"The coronation for the new king is in two weeks. Naturally, it is for the only heir to the throne: Prince Damean," she replied in a voice that reminded Legolas of an adult speaking to a young naive child.
"But... how?" the Elf sputtered out, shocked and dismayed by the news. Liana opened her mouth to say something, but decided it would be best to keep quiet. Her expression was cross yet sad and full of pity.
Just then a serving maid walked timidly into the private bed area. She set a pair of clothes on a nearby chair and scurried out fearfully. Liana sighed and pulled the bed covers back, exposing Legolas down to his calves. He grabbed for the sheets, but the healer quickly threw a towel at him.
"Wrap that around yourself. We must go to the bathing area."
Legolas did as he was told and followed her through the halls of his future home, wincing with every step he took.
The funeral was beautiful, even though Legolas was grudgingly forced to lean on Damean for support. The entire kingdom had been present, all sporting the formal black attire.
Afterwards, Damean sent Legolas up to his room with an escort, giving the elf specific orders to rest. Although he loathed admitting it, Legolas was grateful for the reprieve and happily obliged.
Meanwhile, all of the elves that had accompanied Thranduil on his quest to Harad sat unhappily in cells, thinking of all they had lost. They had been given a speech from the Captain of the Haradrim Army that they were now possessions of Damean, or in other words, slaves.
No one was happy about the situation, but nothing could be done about it.
(Two weeks later. The day of the coronation.)
Legolas woke to the feeling of feathery kisses being applied up and down his cheek and neck. He leaned into the warm embrace, thinking it was his beautiful lover back home. He opened his eyes to meet what he hoped were his lover's green orbs, but was met with brown.
The elf shrieked slightly and slid back until his back hit the headboard. Damean growled and pulled him closer, giving him a full kiss on the mouth. When Legolas didn't respond, the human sighed and broke the kiss. Legolas looked at him with huge, begging blue eyes that pleaded for him not to punish him. Damean could do nothing but laugh and give in.
"I swear, you could get anything you wanted from me with those big beautiful blues. Come, my love, it is 10 o'clock. We must get ready for the coronation," Damean said in his rumbling voice. Legolas wrinkled his nose at the fact of having to actually dress up for such an event, but got up all the same.
Three hours later, Legolas looked at himself in the long mirror. He was fully healed and looked completely normal, although his eyes still shone blue and his hair was still thinner than normal.
His blonde locks had been braided in handfuls of little braids randomly around his head. A beautiful mithril circlet was grandly placed on the crown of head, where it twinkled and sparkled in the sunlight. He wore a high collared silver tunic with silvery-blue stitching over pale blue leggings and a silver shirt. The tailor thought it accented his fluffy golden hair perfectly, but the elf wished more than anything his could just wear his regular green and brown garb and ride off into the sunset, away from this nightmare that he was stuck in.
Servants twittered about nervously as Legolas sat in a comfy purple chair, lost in his thoughts. He mulled over the concepts of freedom and slavery, of friendship and betrayal. As his mind turned to the deception of the former King of Gondor, Legolas had a sudden, violent urge to run down and hug his old friend.
Ignoring the protests and warnings of the servants and tailors, the Elf followed his urges and walked quickly, but gracefully, to the dark dungeons below. Aragorn, he found, was pacing his cell like a trapped lion. Not realizing Legolas was in front of him, Aragorn continued his ranting under his breath in Elvish.
Legolas smiled. He had lost count of how many times he had seen the Ranger pacing and cursing. The elf silently signaled for a guard to unlock the cell door. Aragorn looked up, fire in his eyes, his body positioning itself in a defensive stance.
"Peace, Estel," Legolas said. "I would dearly love to have a practice skirmish, but with these clothes," Legolas rose an eyebrow and smirked, "I don't think so. Plus Damean would kill me."
Aragorn's eyes darkened with hate at the mention of the Haradrim's name. "I will kill him myself," the Ranger growled.
"Peace, Estel," Legolas repeated. "The last thing I need is for my best friend to be killed." Aragorn's eyes shone with unshed tears that threatened to spill over any moment.
"Do you forgive me, Legolas?" he whispered. "Please say you forgive me."
"Ú-moe edhored, mellon nin [There is nothing to forgive, my friend]," Legolas said with a wide smile. They embraced happily.
"What of Mirkwood?" Aragorn asked. He had collected enough information from the guards and other prisoners that Thranduil had given up claims on his realm and was now a slave, as was Legolas.
"We leave in a week to deal with it," Legolas murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I fear my family and Lithuial shall die." {A/N: Ok, just so everyone is clear: Legolas has a lover in Mirkwood, her name is Lithuial. I'll probably get rid of her though. Pronunciation: Lith-oo-ee-ul}
"Don't talk like that. You and your people shall prevail. I promise it." Aragorn kissed Legolas gently on his brow. "Go, before that monster notices you are gone."
"Oh, he is too busy making sure everything's perfect for his coronation and such. He is so vain. I can't imagine anyone loving him."
The two shared a short laugh before the elf became serious again, "Do you know which cell my father is in? I must speak with him."
Aragorn pointed down the hall, and watched his friend depart quickly and noiselessly, as was the way of the elves.
(In Thranduil's cell)
"Why'd you do it, Ada? Why?" Legolas pleaded with his father. He knelt and took hold his father's hands, hoping it might change the fact that they were now slaves. Legolas dreamed beyond anything they could just walk out.
Thranduil's hands were bound in heavy chains that were attached to a metal ring embedded in the stone on the ground. Try as he might, the King of Mirkwood could not pull himself free.
"I could not stand there and see you suffer without doing a thing about it." Seeing Legolas' doubts show clearly on his face, Thranduil tried a different approach. "Your mother told me to do what I had to do to save you from dying."
"Nana?" the young elf breathed. "When?"
"In the room with the basin. She came to me in a vision and told me you were, are, and always will be her favorite son. She told me to save you, and that's what I did."
"You didn't save me! I'm forever bound to that monster! He can do what he likes with me; I no longer have asay over my body! I'm damned for the rest of my life!" Legolas huffed then turned to exit, but before he did, the elf looked at his father one last time. "We leave in a week for Mirkwood. Be ready."
Everyone was stressed out and flushed as the time drew nearer for the start of the coronation. Deciding he wanted to break tradition, Damean ordered the celebration to be at five in the evening, instead of at noon. He thought it would let people get more situated and he would be able to add last minute touches to his wardrobe.
The tailors had spent two weeks on his coronation outfit. The softest of silk, which was cream colored, lined the inside of the fluffiest velvet robe, which was a rich royal blue. The robe was outlined with silver trim and various light-colored jewels had been sown in to give the robe a more dazzling look.
Damean also wore a cream colored shirt of the softest cotton ever woven by his tailors, and a pair of leggings that matched his robe. Brown boots of deerskin adorned his feet. His hair was nothing out of the ordinary, just a bit more shiny and fluffy than usual. On a silver chain hung a sapphire jewel a little smaller than a chicken egg. He rubbed a sweet-smelling perfume all over his clothes and massaged it into his skin as a final touch.
Glancing in the mirror, Damean flashed a white smile at his reflection before he headed to Legolas' rooms for a talk.
The clock struck 4 as Damean knocked on the door to Legolas' rooms. The elf opened it out of politeness only, wishing he had nothing more to do with the disgusting creature that enslaved him.
"Legolas," Damean said as he settled into a chair, "we need to talk."
"I know you do not want to be pushed into a relationship with me, so I am willing to reach an agreement with you. Are you inclined to do so?"
Legolas nodded, but showed nothing of his utter surprise. "First of all, when you disobey me, I will punish you as I see fit," began Damean. "Second, when I kiss you, I want a response. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but may I say something?" he asked. When the human did nothing to stop him, Legolas continued. "I know what you expect of me as your — consort, but I cannot do unless I am in love with you."
"And you aren't?" asked the Haradrim, knowing well what the answer was.
"No, I'm not," Legolas answered frankly. "But if you don't force me into a bond of any kind, I can learn in time. I don't wish to be unhappy for the rest of my life."
"I do not wish for you to be unhappy either," Damean replied. He thought for a long moment before looking back at the elf. "It shall not go beyond kissing. I await your orders of when you are ready." The future king stood and stretched
A smile of happiness and relief burst on Legolas' face and he jumped up and hugged Damean. "I think I might like living here," he whispered in the human's ear. Damean kissed him simply on the lips then released him. "Come," he said. "They are to crown me in less than an hour, and I am not ready!" Legolas chuckled and opened the door. Maybe, just maybe, he's not that bad, he thought.
Musicians picked up a lively tune as Damean walked down the isle to the front of the great throne room with Legolas at his side. He stood before the entire kingdom, allowing them to witness the most important day of his life. A priest chanted in a foreign language and sprinkled sweet-smelling oil all over the king-to-be's clothes and hair.
Damean's eyes drooped as if in a trance as he sunk into the serenity of the moment. "Prince Damean of the Haradrim population," rasped the priest in his dry voice. "Do you swear to protect and honor your subjects, putting their life and well-being before your own? Do you swear to always judge fairly and never let your subjects fight amongst themselves? Do you swear you loyalty to the Crown and all it represents?"
Damean licked his parched lips and answered, "I swear to everything upon my life."
"Kneel," the priest commanded. "I pronounce you, Damean, son of Quasir and Charlotte, King of the Realm of Harad!" The old man placed a beautifully crafted mithril crown atop the new King's head and bowed.
The crowd cheered and threw confetti up in the air as Damean rose, a huge smile adorning his handsome face. "Let us eat!" he cried to his subjects. They allowed their King to go first with his consort before the nobles eagerly followed. According to Haradrim law, commoners were not permitted at feasts.
The moment Legolas entered the dining hall, he wished he hadn't. What he saw before his eyes made him sick to his stomach. The captive elves stood along the walls, wearing nothing but crude, brown leggings. Iron chains were clamped to their bare feet, hampering their graceful gaits.
Among the elves were Legolas' father, Lumlier, Falacas, and Mandolin. Legolas had known them since his birth, and seeing them as they were brought tears to his blue eyes. "Damean. Is this really necessary?" he whispered as the King took his seat.
"Yes, Legolas. They need to learn their place, as you are learning yours. No, don't frown at me. Stand to the left of my chair."
"Let the feast begin!" the King declared once everyone had been seated. The elves surged forward with burning plates of delicious food. Legolas glared at the nobles as the night wore on. They were becoming too bold; at least one out of every three men attempted to grope the elf serving them wine.
"Here," Damean muttered, thrusting a roll into his elf's hands. "You must be hungry."
"Do my people get to eat?" Legolas questioned seethingly.
"If there is left overs. But I doubt it. These nobles eat like pigs when drunk," Damean commented with a chuckle.
Legolas tossed the rolled back to his master's plate. "I will not eat until my people are well fed," he said, his voice quiet and dangerous.
Damean looked from the bread roll to the elf with mounting rage. "Are you defying me, slave?"
"I am not your slave, Damean," Legolas snapped letting his anger and worry for the elves get the better of him. The King stood quickly and faced his elf.
"From this point forward you are to call me 'master' and are not to speak unless spoken to. Is that clear, slave?"
"I refuse to call you anything except monster!" Legolas exclaimed. Damean's face turned beet red, due to rage or the large amount of liquor coursing through his blood, Legolas knew not.
All of the elves heard the crack of hand against face over the loud, boisterous noise of the men and their ladies. They directed their defiant, angry gazes to the High Table where the King ate his meal. They all saw their precious prince fly to the ground as Damean struck him.
Falacas put a restraining hand on the fuming Elf-King's shoulder. Thranduil's white-knuckled hands gripped the wine bottle so hard he was sure it would shatter. "Calm yourself, my King. You can do nothing," Falacas advised even though he wished nothing more than to rush to his fallen captain's side.
Legolas picked himself up of the ground and wiped he blood from his split lip. His icy gaze held all the fury and hate of the world, and directed it all at Damean. The King suddenly realized he had lost the hopeful elf from before his coronation.
He reached up and touched the wound he had inflicted. Legolas flinched and batted the hand away not caring that he would probably be punished for it. Damean withdrew his hand and sighed. "I am sorry, Legolas but you knew it had to be done. I won't tolerate you defiance anymore. Next time it will not be you, but your father, or one of your despicable kin. Is that clear?"
Legolas nodded slowly. Damean pulled him into a tight hug. "Good boy. Now, eat this roll." He handed the bread back to the elf and sat down.
Legolas picked at the bread as he stared at the night sky. How he wished he could ride away and be free forever! Thranduil got the wistful look in his son's eyes and his heart broke. Wasn't he supposed to be the one to protect the young elf from the evil of the world? Why, when his child needed him most, was he helpless?
A/N: So what'd you think? Pusht hat little review button and tell me all your thoughts!