A/N: You get this chapter a little early, as I'll be at my parents' house when the usual posting time comes around. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Winter Solstice, and happy whatever other holidays that are coming in the next week that I haven't mentioned. And if none of these apply to you, have a good day anyway. :)
The smell of a host of fantastic food filled the kitchen as Fredwyn, the chief cook, removed yet another dish from the fire and set it down on the preparation table. It was going to be an impressive dinner indeed, in her humble opinion, and it was a joy to prepare. It was like breaking out all of her recipes for a festive Yule celebration, but on a much smaller scale. Only two people would be feasting on it that night: King Eomer and Prince Legolas. The king had come to her weeks ago, immediately after a meeting with the noblemen where he learned that his having a romantic relationship with the elf was old news to them (the nobles' sentiments being best summed up by Gamling, who asked: "What, you two weren't already a couple?"), requesting the grand meal for two.
"That's a lot of food," she'd told him. "May I ask if this is all for another just-because-I-think-it-would-be-nice meals?"
"It's not," Eomer had told her, snatching a grape from a nearby fruit bowl. A huge grin then split his face; Fredwyn sore that she'd never seen him so happy before. "Legolas and I have decided that we want something more than being alone together. I'm courting him, my good Fredwyn, and I fully intend on making this meal a part of a night to remember!"
She was more than happy to oblige him, especially since cooking this meal gave her the best of both worlds. The cook got to make a lot of special food, which she loved doing; but instead of experiencing that last-minute time crunch that happens before a meal for many people no matter how careful the planning was, she had the time that goes along with cooking for only a few people. Now she could see to it that everything was perfect at a leisurely pace. That was a good thing too, for she didn't have the time to worry excessively about the food – she was too preoccupied with worrying about the king.
Fredwyn sighed ponderously. It had been so nice to hear King Eomer sound so enthusiastic about doing something that would make him happy. She'd known him since he was a lad, having started her duties in the kitchen not long before he and his sister arrived at Meduseld to live, and in all of those years he'd rarely ever thought of himself before others. Lady Eowyn had let her mind wander often to daydreams of horseback riding and valor; poor Prince Theodred – 'may he find honor and peace in the halls of his fathers!' – had always immersed himself in scrolls and songs so that he could learn to be the best king ever; but King Eomer had never indulged in daydreams or the pursuit of greatness. As the eldest of the three royal children Eomer had aged emotionally very rapidly after the death of his parents and had always taken his duties to his sister, cousin, and uncle extremely serious, so much so that it seemed that he never spent any time concentrating on what he would like for himself.
Now he was doing just that by finally giving in to his feelings and pursuing a relationship with Prince Legolas. However, that was proving to be another point of concern with Fredwyn. Oh, she liked the elf prince very much: he was kind, polite, appreciative, an excellent father, and he appeared to genuinely care for King Eomer. Still…there was great potential there for him to break the Man's heart.
What lay unresolved between the pair, what they refused to acknowledge but she couldn't ignore, was the issue of the prince's previous relationship. Someone had obviously betrayed, hurt, and abandoned Prince Legolas, leaving him alone in the world with a child in his stomach and nowhere to go – and she knew that someone wasn't her king. While she was delighted to accept Lord Caladel as his acknowledged son she would never believe that King Eomer would ever enter into that deep a relationship and then let it end abruptly for the flimsiest of reasons; especially when that relationship was with Prince Legolas, whom he'd looked at so lovingly since the two elves arrived in Edoras last spring.
No, someone else had driven Prince Legolas into exile and was making it necessary for the king to command that no one talk about the presence of the elf and his son with anyone who wasn't from Rohan. The prince didn't seem the type who normally hid from his problems so whatever this sire did must have been terrible, and it was all yet unresolved. It was clear enough to Fredwyn that Prince Legolas hadn't said all that he needed to say to Lord Caladel's churlish sire, whoever he may be. All that unfinished business between two people who created a child together would make moving on difficult; and the prince and Lord Caladel's whereabouts couldn't be kept a secret forever. She could only hope that King Eomer's feelings wouldn't get crushed in the crossfire when that messy situation reached its inevitable conclusion.
Yet at the same time Prince Legolas was a good, responsible person who never would enter into a relationship lightly when his son's well-being and future were caught up in it too. Not to mention the way that his eyes had been shining as of late whenever he spoke of or was around the king. Besides, King Eomer was a fine Man and a good catch – it would be insulting to him to think that he wouldn't be able to inspire feeling that were powerful enough to overcome the baggage of the past. Prince Legolas was a smart person; she had to have faith that he would know better than to let someone like King Eomer slip away.
"Fredwyn?" asked one of the kitchen servant girls, breaking through the cook's thoughts. "Do you need any help getting the food ready?"
"No, we should be all set by the time that they're ready to eat," the woman replied as she placed a decorative flower on one of the serving dishes for good presentation. "Is everything else running on schedule?"
"Oh yes," giggled the girl. "The king is in the dining hall right now, supervising the set-up of everything and talking to the lute player about where he should be standing and what kind of music should be played. Doesn't that sound so romantic: music, a private dinner, candlelight, and all that?"
"It certainly does," Fredwyn humored her.
There were stars in the girl's eyes as she sighed. "And the king is so considerate too!" she gushed. "My brother told me that he put up with Lord Gimli interrogating him while he sharpened an axe; and I saw with my own eyes how the lord watched him extra close for the rest of his visit. Few Men of name would endure that, let alone a king! He must really be in love."
"All right; enough, you silly girl," scolded Fredwyn maternally. "If you've got nothing better to do than go on and on about our king's personal affairs then I'll put you to work." She grabbed a nearby plate and filled it generously with samples from the feast. "Take this to the prince's suite. Lord Caladel will be spending the evening in there with a nanny. Prince Legolas has requested that he get the same food for dinner than he and the king will be having. He doesn't want the lord to feel excluded."
The servant girl accepted the plate with no complaints. "Prince Legolas is such a good father," she noted dreamily. "It's so sweet how overprotective he is of Lord Caladel. I bet…I bet if he and the king got married and had more children he would be able to relax a little about that. Wouldn't that be wonderful – about the children, I mean? Judging by Lord Caladel I think that any child of King Eomer and Prince Legolas will be beautiful."
"Don't concern yourself with how handsome the future heir of Rohan might potentially be," the cook advised her in an exasperated tone as she fought back against the faceless specter of the lord's birth sire in her mind. "That's for the king and the prince to sort out. You just worry about doing your part to make this evening as beautiful as possible."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Eomer was well aware that he'd only mentioned having dinner whenever he'd brought up the special evening that he'd planned with Legolas. Still, how could it be called proper wooing if there was not also a little dancing? In his wildest fantasies the king pictured himself and Legolas outside on an extraordinarily flat piece of land, moving together in time with the music of a full orchestra under the light of a full moon; but he'd quickly put that aside. He knew that a gigantic production like that would feel too fussy and false to the elf at this point in their new relationship and that deep down Legolas was nervous enough about how things were progressing between them to effectively have it happen in front of such a large audience. There would (hopefully) be time to fulfill that fantasy later; at the moment he was more than content with the reality.
One lone lute player stood partially in the shadows of the dining hall to give Eomer and Legolas the allusion of privacy while he played a few songs. Those tunes were ancient love songs of Rohan and were meant to be sung, played, and listened to but not danced along with; but the couple managed to do just that. On the portion of the floor that had been cleared of its tables and benches the elf and Man improvised some traditional steps to keep up with and match the odd tempo, seemingly reading each other's minds as Eomer led without stomping on his partner's toes and Legolas followed without so much as a misstep.
Eomer was quite pleased with himself, as he was certain that he'd never been so graceful before in his life. Of course, his nimble partner and the fact that he'd also never enjoyed dancing so much before in his life contributed to that feeling. "I'm so glad that you agreed to do this," he told Legolas warmly as he spun the elf around.
Legolas laughed merrily as he completed the impromptu move with ease and fell readily back into step with the Man. "To do what, spend this evening with your or dancing?" he asked.
"Well, I'm happy about both," said Eomer, "but I was talking about the dancing. You're really very good at this."
"Thank you," replied Legolas as Eomer ably guided them across the floor. "You're not so bad yourself. Were you forced to take dancing lessons when you were younger?"
"No," said Eomer. "Not formal ones, at any rate. It was all the doing of my Grandmother Morwen – my mother's mother. The last years of her life were apparently dedicated to teaching Eowyn, our cousin Theodred, and I how to dance and engage in all the other fine manners and actions of the highest court."
A sad, wistful look ghosted the Man's face. Legolas saw it and wondered if he should just let it pass without acknowledgement; but he didn't want Eomer to feel that he could only show his supportive, strong, and playful side to him. "What is it?" he questioned gently. "Have I brought up an unhappy memory?"
"It's not unhappy; only…" Eomer's voice trailed off as he pondered how much he should reveal on what was supposed to be a romantic night for them. Legolas took advantage of his momentary silence by lifting their joined hand to his lips and kissing the Man's knuckles in a way that made Eomer feel completely safe. "Grandmother was from Gondor; my grandfather, Fengel, met her in the years that he dwelt there. It was their home for a long time – they had three children there, including Uncle Theoden – and when Grandfather was called back to rule Rohan after his father died…he didn't want to leave. I suppose that the dancing lessons and the lectures of manners and speech were their way of bringing as much of Gondor here as they could. It was and still is hard at times to realize that they were ashamed of Rohan's rustic court and unrefined culture."
"Many people like what they like and fail to see the good and beauty in things that are different," Legolas told him, bringing the hand that was resting on Eomer's shoulder up to touch his bearded cheek. "As for myself, I have seen much of both Gondor and Rohan and while both have their merits I must say that I like Rohan better."
"Is that so?" asked Eomer as he leaned into the touch. "Why is that?"
"Well, for one thing I don't have to walk as far to feel the free earth beneath my feet," answered Legolas, pretending to grope for something to say. "And the Rohirrim are much more appreciative of their horses than the people of Minas Tirith, who get so uptight if you ride one within the walls of the city. There is beauty here that is unpretentious, and your formal clothing looks very good on me if I do say so myself."
Eomer smiled appreciatively and moved so that he could hold the elf at arm's length to admire how he looked in his outfit. He'd decided to wear Mannish garments that night, and while the king wasn't used to seeing them on him he liked how he looked in them very much; especially in the green that adorned a lot of the royal family of Rohan's clothing – brighter than the shade that Legolas normally wore, making him appear less solemn. "They do indeed," he remarked. "You look absolutely beautiful in them."
"One more thing I like about Rohan," said Legolas, trying to keep his tone light and jocular while he blushed. "The company that I keep here has no parallel anywhere in Middle-earth."
The Man unconsciously squared his shoulders proudly and there was an extra spring in his step as they continued to dance. "Well, now that you know the origin's of my dancing prowess, what about yours?" he asked good-humoredly. "Am I right in guessing that you did have to take formal lessons?"
"Oh yes," laughed Legolas at the memory of those afternoons spent inside at those infernal lessons as his increasingly despondent instructor tried valiantly to keep the young princeling's wandering attention focused on the task at hand. "Thanks in no small part to my grandfather, Oropher, and the enormous amount of pride that he's passed down to my father and through him to me. Grandfather founded the realm of Greenwood after he and several other elves broke away from the Noldorin rule of Lothlorien."
"Noldorin?" repeated Eomer, testing that strange word out on his tongue.
"There are different types of elves, as there are different types of Men," Legolas explained. "The Noldor are high elves; they – they have not and do not always consider the Sindarin elves, like myself and my family, and Silvan elves, such as the people of Eryn Lasgalan, to be their equals. It was a point of pride for my grandfather to make it clear that we could get along just fine without the Noldor there to guide us as a parent guides a child. According to Ada, he was always defensive about showing them that his people could be just as cultured and refined as those in Lothlorien and Rivendell; that's why he made certain that my father would be able to hold his own against any one of them in every way."
"You never met your grandfather?" guessed Eomer in surprise. He'd just assumed that, seeing that elves were immortal, Legolas would have known many generations of his family.
An odd flicker came to the elf's eyes that spoke of both an external and internal conflict. "He died before I was born in the battle of elves and Man against Sauron at the Black Gates," he said slowly. "Some call his fall the unfortunate consequence of his pride; others say that it was an unavoidable and heroic death. I'll never know for sure, I suppose; but no matter what I know that he was no coward." He ducked his head momentarily and then looked up again with a closed-mouth smile. "But his spirit lived on in those lessons. Misery begets misery, as they say, and when I got old enough Ada made sure that I too learned to dance. How a father could do that to his son I will never understand."
"Caladel will be relieved to hear that," noted Eomer.
"Oh, Caladel is learning how to dance, as well as everything else," declared Legolas with a malicious glint in his eyes. "If I had to he has to too."
"I believe that you understand all too well," teased Eomer. "There are no qualified instructors in these parts, so you'll either have to bring in someone from Eryn Lasgalan or else teach him yourself. Perhaps I should be in on those lessons too so that our son learns how to both lead and follow."
A mischievous smirk came to Legolas' face. "I know how to lead," he informed him. "As Ada always told me, I never knew who I would end up dancing with. Therefore I had to become equally skilled at leading and following." He moved his arm suddenly, transferring the hand that was resting on his waist to his shoulder and placing his own hand on Eomer's waist, smoothly taking over the lead. "But I'm guessing that your grandmother skipped one of those lessons with you."
"She did," admitted Eomer as he stumbled at bit, unused to dancing backwards. Legolas tormented him like this for only a few seconds before taking pity, stilling them both and wrapping his arms around the Man. Eomer returned the embrace as the elf melted against him and buried his head in Legolas' neck. They continued to move to the music but instead of improving proper dancing they simply held each other and swayed to the slow, gentle tempo. "She didn't teach me this one either, but I must say that it's my favorite."
"Mine too," whispered Legolas.
The couple remained like that, almost forgetting that there was another person in the hall, until the music stopped. "Bravo," declared Legolas, breaking away from the Man to politely clap. The lute player modestly bowed in acknowledgement of the praise.
"Well done," concurred Eomer, going in the applause.
Over their shoulders, a wave from a young girl standing in the servants' doorway caught the musician's eye. "I am honored by your appreciation," he said humbly. "Your dinner is almost ready to be served; would you like me to continue playing?"
"No, thank you – if that's all right with you, Legolas," added Eomer, looking to his companion. The elf nodded. "Your music was lovely and you are now dismissed with our praise and gratitude. Please enjoy the rest of your evening."
Legolas watched the other Man depart, waiting serenely for the door to close behind him before speaking again. "No music during dinner, I take it," he ribbed Eomer as the king took him by the hand and kindly urged him to come with him to the table.
"I want us to have the chance to talk while we eat," explained Eomer as he directed Legolas not to one of the grand chair at either end of the table, which were to be occupied by the king and his significant other at formal occasions, but to one of the benches at the side. The Man then hurried to the other side and sat down facing him. "I don't know about you but I've always felt terrible speaking when someone is making the effort to play music for my enjoyment."
"That's very admirable," noted Legolas, feeling a surge of pride at how considerate Eomer was.
"Well, I must confess that I had an ulterior motive," replied Eomer, feigning shame. "I didn't want anyone to stay in the chamber at all except for you and me. It's going to be just the two of us for dinner and beyond into the rest of the evening."
Legolas was intrigued. When Eomer had suggested that they dine so that he could court him properly the elf had some underlying trepidation about how formal the night was going to be. While he greatly anticipated the romance of it all, he hadn't been looking forward to the stuffiness that ordinarily went along with formal occasions. However, judging by their dancing and the informal seating arraignment that would allow them to actually speak to each other without having to raise their voice Legolas was ready to put a lot of faith in Eomer's way of wooing. The hints that would have made him a bit nervous before now peaked his interest – what did the man have up his sleeve? "So we must find ways to entertain ourselves," he said good-naturedly. "You seem to have some ideas on how we can do that; are you going to share them with me?"
"If you wish. First, we will dine on a magnificent feast that has been lovingly prepared by dear cook Fredwyn – as you already know. Then," said Eomer confidentially, leaning in a little as if he was about to share his deepest secret, "when we've finished we'll grab our cloaks and take a long walk."
"To where?"
"Wherever we want," Eomer told him. "I was thinking of either starting or finishing by walking around the top platform outside Meduseld so that you can look out over the lands; but as long as I get the opportunity to see how breathtaking you are in the moonlight I am content to go anywhere."
The elf raised an eyebrow. "You flatter and spoil me," he said in a neutral tone.
"I haven't gotten to the spoiling part yet," admonished Eomer playfully. "I have a little present for you that I'm not sure when to give you. It might be during dinner, before our walk, or any other point in the evening; I'm sure that I'll know the right moment when it comes along."
"Wow," said Legolas, unable to hold back his enthusiastic grin any longer. "When you set out to woo someone you pull out all of the stops, don't you?"
"When someone is special enough to court you shouldn't keep any of the, um, stops in," Eomer informed him, frowning a little at the strange and awkward phrase. "Huh – I never realized how off that saying is before: 'pulling out all the stops'. Ah!"
Eomer waved his hand to indicate to a servant hovering at the doorway to come in. The boy complied, carrying in a bottle of a familiar wine that had been chilling in the snow. He presented it to his king, who accepted it politely and dismissed him with a 'thank you'. "Can I interest you in a glass of the finest wine that I have ever tasted?" the Man asked Legolas. "I have here a bottle of the fabled Dorwinion; it was a Yule gift from someone that I hold very dear."
"Yes, please," said Legolas, moving his glass a little to make pouring a little easier for Eomer. "But not too much! The next bottle, more likely than not, will prove to be long-off in coming. You should save what you have for only the most important of occasions."
"There is no occasion more important to me than this one," said Eomer with quiet conviction as he finished pouring a good amount into the elf's glass.
No one had ever said something so sweet to him before; at least not something that he could trust. It might have been silly to equate how significant you are to someone by the kind of wine that they give you, but Legolas was Thranduil's son and to his father the Dorwinion was tied with jewels for fourth in his esteem, after Legolas and the departed Queen, his people, and his realm. The prince, finding himself more moved than he expected to be that evening, slowly reached across the table and slipped his hand into that of Eomer's. "Eomer, I" – he began.
He was interrupted, however, by an abrupt and insistent knocking on the main doors to the hall. Both of them jumped at the unexpected nose, breaking the romantic atmosphere – temporarily, each one privately hoped. "Oh for the love of the Valar," griped Eomer in annoyance. He'd left specific instructions that they were not to be disturbed unless there was absolutely no way that whatever business came up could wait! Turning his head, he glared at the door as he called to the intruder, hoping that a look would be enough to drive the person away. "This had better be important!"
The door opened and a young servant girl timidly entered, knowing all-too-well that her presence was not welcome there. "I am so very sorry for interrupting your meal, my king, Prince Legolas," she said quickly under Eomer's frustrated gaze and Legolas' unnerving stare, "but I'm afraid that it was unavoidable. It's Lord Caladel, sires; he's become quite ill. The nanny summoned a healer, but the lord has been asking for both of you."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Let me see if I have this straight," said Legolas, sitting on his son's bed and rubbing soothing circles into his back. Lying on his side very close to the edge with his back to his ada the boy moaned piteously. Legolas did feel sorry for him, but that emotion would have shown through a lot clearer if he wasn't so confounded by his normally well-behaved son's actions. "Although your tutors, his parents, your papa, and I have all told you both not to eat the orange berries that grow on the shrubs by the stables, Bedric – your best friend – dared you to do just that and you accepted?"
"Not exactly," Caladel told him in a weak voice as his stomach churned. He was very nauseous, even though he knew that there was nothing left in him to throw up. Thank Elbereth for the quick-thinking nanny who saw to it that a sick bucket was sitting right next to his bed right away! "He dared me and I double-dared him back; then he double-double-dared me" –
"Double-double-dare?" interrupted Legolas, trying to wrap his mind around the concept.
Caladel flushed a little. "That's when someone takes the double-dare they got and turns it around on the darer," he explained. Everyone knew that, so why was he feeling so embarrassed about telling his ada about it? "When that happens both people have to do the dare."
"Are you telling me that you had to do it?" asked Legolas, furrowing his brow.
"Well, I guess I didn't have to but if sure felt like I did at the time," amended Caladel sheepishly. He scrounged up enough strength to peer down to where his papa sat by his legs, dressed in his fine kingly clothing; and them over at his ada, who was clad in garments that matched what Eomer was wearing rather well. A wave of guilt hit the boy – he'd wanted for so long for the two of them to be happy and kiss and all the other things that parents usually do and when they finally set aside an evening to do just that he had to go and do something stupid to mess that up. "You both look very nice. I'm sorry that I spoiled your dinner. You should give me a really mean punishment for that."
Eomer patted his knee reassuringly. "My boy, I have no doubt that those berries are giving you more than ample punishment already," he said knowingly. He looked over to the healer who been attending Caladel since he first fell ill. "Those berries can be dangerous if eaten in large quantities; are you sure that he's going to be all right?"
"Oh yes, your majesty," the healer assured him. "He told me that he and his friend only ate a couple apiece and I've seen no indication that he had any more than what was enough to give his stomach a good turn. The nausea will pass soon enough and he will be as good as new. The best thing that he can do for himself right now is to get some rest – and to keep this experience in mind whenever he and his friends find themselves around those particular shrubs in the future."
Caladel turned a little greener. "Oh, I won't ever forget this."
"Thank you," said Legolas gratefully to the healer while he stroked his son's sweat-tinged hair. As the Man left, he pulled the blankets up around the miserable elfling. "You heard him, Caladel: go to sleep. I'll stay right here beside you."
"No, no – you don't have to do that!" protested Caladel bravely. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep with his ada lying next to him, all dressed up in his nice clothing. It would be a constant reminder of what he'd ruined for his parents that night. "Go back to your evening! I'm just going to be sleeping anyway; I won't need the company."
"Are you sure that you don't need me here?" asked Legolas, feeling slightly hurt at Caladel's dismissal even though he knew that the boy didn't mean it that way. Caladel nodded and snuggled down into the mattress a bit for effect. "All right, but I'll be in my bedchamber right next through that door in case you need anything. Good night, Caladel; and feel better."
"Sweet dreams," added Eomer, bending over to kiss his son's cheek after Legolas did the same.
Legolas reluctantly left the boy's bedchamber, blowing out Caladel's lantern as he passed by it. Eomer followed, shutting the door quietly behind them as the elf sat down heavily on the bed. "I can't believe that he actually ate those berries," marveled Legolas, his crankiness poorly masking his underlying fear. "What was he thinking? He could have – ended up worse off than just having an upset stomach."
"This probably won't make you feel better, but believe it or not accepting the dare to eat the forbidden orange berries is practically a rite of passage for a child of Rohan," Eomer told him. "Theodred and I were victims of the double-double-dare when I wasn't much older than Caladel is now."
"He gets this from you, then?" questioned Legolas with a wry twitch of his lips.
"From me and every foolish Rohirric child that came before him," nodded Eomer, the voice of experience. "Trust me, if he's feeling even a fraction of how I felt when I did it he will never eat them again – in fact, he'll have a hard time eating anything orange for awhile."
That got a laugh out of Legolas, but soon the humor in his expression faded away. "I'm so sorry, Eomer," he apologized. "You had such lovely evening planned out" –
Eomer impulsively crossed the bedchamber and sat down next to him. "And I'll be doing that again," he voiced. "But Caladel needed us tonight and I refuse to be upset about missing out on the rest of the night because of that. We have plenty of time; there will be more chances for dinners and moonlit walks."
"And the present?" teased Legolas.
"The present!" Eomer's face lit up. "Yes, I can give you your present – right now, yes, right now. This feels like the right time. Close your eyes if you would, Legolas." The elf complied, listening intently as Eomer rustled around in a hidden pocket. "All right, open them!"
Legolas' eyes fluttered open to see the Man holding up a dried sprig of a plant that he recognized instantly. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.
"It might be," Eomer informed him earnestly. "This is the mistletoe you gave me at Yule. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away; perhaps," he added, his eyes twinkling, "because of guilt. You see, the king is not exempt from the rules of tradition; I just made that up to keep my feelings for you a secret. It's only fair, then, that I comply now. I await your instruction on where I have to kiss someone."
"Is that so?" asked Legolas, considering. "Well, that depends: who are you going to be kissing?"
"That's not in the rules," argued Eomer. "It shouldn't be a factor in your decision."
"But it is," insisted Legolas. "If you're going to kiss our son then I will choose the cheek. If it is anyone else, the hand. If it's me…"
"It is you," murmured Eomer warmly, proving it by tenderly taking his hand, pulling it open, and placing the mistletoe on his palm. "As long as I have any choice in the matter it will always be you."
Leaning in toward him Legolas unconsciously licked his lips. "In that case, you must kiss me on the mouth," he said softly. "And not just on the corner."
Eomer smiled broadly and drew the elf into an embrace a split second before claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss. "Your turn," he gasped when they finally broke apart. "I'm very tempted to request that you match that kiss, but then again I don't know who you're going to give that mistletoe to…"
"Eomer," scolded Legolas frankly, shutting the Man up with a kiss. "Before me is someone who spent weeks planning every detail of a special evening only to set it aside when our son needed us; a Man who wasn't so insecure that he wouldn't let me lead when we danced; someone who saved a souvenir of our first kiss; and just happens to be as good a kisser as he is a person – which is saying something remarkable. There is no one that I'd rather be kissing, Eomer," he went on, placing the mistletoe back in the Man's hand and covering that hand with his own. "Consider me wooed."
To be continued…
A/N: The family information that was in Legolas and Eomer's dance conversation was pulled from the appendices and other reliable sources. If I got anything wrong I apologize.