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Wild Justice
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Pairing(s): Legolas/OC. Legolas/Elrond (eventual). Legolas/Elladan (mentioned).
Rating: PG-13/R-Rated (nothing graphic).
Summary: Legolas has fled both from Mirkwood and his lover, seeking sanctuary within the boarders of Imladris. He has told no one of his departure and he will tell no one his reasons. Why has our Prince fled? And from what does he flee?
Warning: AU; Slash; M-Preg; Angst.
Notes: Thanks to MoroTheWolfGod for the Plot Bunny.
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Chapter 8: Berating Oneself
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Elladan watched the fleeting prince of Mirkwood, a suspicious look in his eyes; turning towards his brother he saw the shocked look on Elrohir's paled features.
"Dearest brother," the young lord asked in vague concern, "What is wrong? Why hast thou a look of alarm on thy face?"
Elrohir turned his head slowly to look at his mirrored-self. "By the Valar, Elladan, may the gods strike me down if speak falsely..." his gaze shifted back towards the direction the Mirkwood Prince had fled. "I- I think," he met Elladan's curious gaze, "I think he is with child."
Elladan let out a bark of laughter; amused at the words his brother had dared to speak. Surely he couldn't be serious? The dark-haired Elf looked into his brother's eyes once again, laughter dying from his lips as he stood straighter, understanding dawning on his face. "You speak sincerely, do you not?"
Elrohir just gave a short nod of his head. "You are sure?"
"I am unsure. I know what I felt from his stomach, but 'tis rare for male pregnancies, Elves as we are." Elrohir bit his lip, his brow folding down as he began to deliberate.
"What are you thinking?" Elladan cocked his head.
"I wonder if perhaps we should find out for certain." He looked towards the Last Homely House.
"You will ask him?"
"Nay, we shall find out before, I will not risk insulting his dignity. You know how prideful he can be."
Elladan nodded. "What do you propose we do?" He mentioned nothing about why he was being involved in such an investigation. Elrohir knew him well enough to know he would do most anything his brother asked of him.
"Let us head to the library. Perhaps father has something in relevance to this subject."
Elladan nodded his head, stepping forward and leading his brother.
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How could he have been so stupid? How could he have risked his sanctuary by allowing himself to reveal his true identity? How could he have let Elrohir find out? Oh dear gods! This shouldn't be happening, not to him, not now, not ever.
He slammed his fist into the hard wood of his door as soon as it was closed and bolted before him. He didn't even flinch as the bones in his hand cried out.
The Elven prince wanted to cry out in his frustration. By his own fault, things were about to become much more complicated than he had first intended for them to be. He knew that Elrohir knew. The look in the young lord's eyes told him that, and Legolas had always been good at reading Elrohir through his eyes.
What if he then decided to tell Elladan? It was almost certainty that he would, they shared almost everything, why not this piece of gossip? Legolas wouldn't mind so much, but what he really feared was the Elven Lord Elrond being informed.
That would most likely only result in him informing Mirkwood that their prince was indeed safe in Imladris and awaiting a delegation of riders to escort him back home. Legolas clenched his teeth together in anger at his situation, fists balled as he contemplated what he could do.
A knock to the door made him jump in surprise, so caught up in his worries, hurriedly he took a calming breath before stepping up to the door and unbolting it.
Dark eyes filled with wisdom and understanding sparkled back at him as the door opened, Legolas could not help but smile politely as Abie bowed her head before handing him a recently sealed letter, stamped with the seal of Lord Elrond himself.
"My thanks." He managed to mumble as his heartbeat began to speed up. This letter could not have been written more than ten minutes ago by the looks of it. Even the red wax used still smelled a sickly warm.
Abie asked if he would like anything before she left, distractedly he shook his blond head, brow furrowing. Abie too frowned at him but said nothing as she politely turned on her heel and left him to his thoughts.
Legolas closed the door, once more bolting it and heading towards the window seat. His hands shook at he sat and stared at the letter. It was a plain parchment envelope sealed at the back and with only a single spidery letter of 'L' on the front in what was undoubtedly Lord Elrond's hand.
The young prince closed his eyes briefly, giving himself the unintentional opportunity to get worked up before he hurriedly ripped open the letter:
For His Majesty, the crowned Prince of Mirkwood:
This is a reminder to be at my study tomorrow, an hour after the sun rises for discussions regarding your Sanction in Imladris.
This appointment is inflexible and I expect for you to be punctual.
Yours sincerely,
Elrond Peredhel
Lord of Imladris.
This did nothing to ease his mind. Had Elrohir perhaps already found the time to speak with his father? He shook his head against that though, too soon. The young lord had not left the clearing when Legolas had, and the Mirkwood Elf had only just reached his room. So therefore, it was still possible that the lord of Imladris knew nothing about the reason for his sanction.
Nothing. Unless Ahearn himself had mentioned it? Somehow he didn't think that the half-Elf would. Ahearn was a strong believer in saying only what needed to be said. Nothing more, nothing less. Legolas sighed softly, fingering the sharp edges of the paper.
Then what of the Elven twins, Elladan and Elrohir? Would they speak to their father before his meeting tomorrow? Or would that perchance to confront him first? Could he trust in Elrohir to mind his own business and keep Legolas' secrets to himself? The blond-haired Elf hadn't intended on confessing any such matters to Lord Elrond, but then...
The edge of the paper bit deeply into his index finger as he traced the letter once more. The young Elf hissed slightly before placing his finger to his mouth and sucking at the wound. A coppery taste tainting his tongue.
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To Be Continued...?
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Peace,
CS WhiteWolf
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