Chapter 26
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He'd left the ball soon after his talk with Elrohir- though not a conversation by any means, the dark-haired elf had given Legolas much to think on, his words serving in part to bring only more angst to Legolas' already troubled soul. He was content, had been content, with his relationship- his friendship- with Elrond thus far- why should he want to change that? To risk that which was uncertain, that which could only end up causing him much more hurt and pain?
His heart had been used and abused once, and though he trusted Elrond not to toy with him in the same ways Ahearn had, he could not trust to hope- for hope was what he'd done with his ex-lover- hoping day in and day out that Ahearn would be the one he'd always imagined him to be, even fantasised him to be, that he'd be the caring, loving person he was when in company, not the bitter and controlling half-elf he truly was.
Elrond wouldn't hurt him, no, but Legolas didn't think he could take such a risk. Not now, not so soon after everything. A gentle almost prodding feeling in his stomach had him rubbing at the swelling of pregnancy, a small smile touching his lips before fading away again. Here he was thinking about how he could not enter into anything more with the Lord or Imladris when he did not even know for sure if said Lord even desired him as anything more! Who was he to assume such a thing? Who as he to think himself worthy?
Memories of a kiss almost shared with the raven-haired Elven Lord had him pausing before the door to his chambers, eyes closed as he allowed the memory to wash over him, fingers rising automatically to his lips, touching timidly as if in the pretence of being something more.
With a heavy sigh Legolas snapped himself from his musings, entering his chambers and closing the door behind him. He noted vaguely that more candles had been lit for him, and that the full-length mirror had been removed. Slowly he set about stripping himself of his robes, allowing the silken fabric to slip from his body and pool upon the floor around his slippered feet before stepping from them and moving over towards his bed and the fresh sleeping robes that had been laid out for him. Legolas shrugged lightly into them before moving back towards his robes- squatting carefully in order to pick them up from the floor- they were too beautiful to be left there to crease up.
He ran his hand over the blue silk, caressing the material to his cheek a moment- relishing in the feel of it against his skin, remembering how it flowed about his changing form, how comforting and protected he had felt in it. A gift, Elrond had said it was, for the Prince of Mirkwood to attend the Yenearsira ball with him.
Legolas moved to lay the robes over the bottom of his bed. His eyes lingering on them a moment longer as his fingers removed the ribbon from his hair, finally turning his gaze elsewhere as he tossed it towards the vanity before making his way towards the window. It was no doubt his favourite spot to sit and think when his mind was in turmoil and he needed a chance to sit and think things through. And this evening certainly qualified as a time of turmoil, he inwardly mused, pulling himself up and settling back against the cushions.
Legolas pressed his forehead against the coolness of the glass, relishing the feel of it against his heated skin. His breath ghosted across the pane, beading white against the translucency. He raised his fingers to the misted area and absentmindedly drew a diagonal line through it, followed by another diagonal line, this time pointed in the opposite direction.
It was only as he was about to add a horizontal strike through both lines did Legolas come to his senses and wipe almost ferociously at the window until he could once more see through the glass, until he could see through the glass and look upon his reflection. All pale faced and sunken eyes- the traumas of the day were catching up to him- his fears and worries beginning to once again take their toll on him.
It wasn't just his confusion over the nights events- Elrond's actions; Elrohir's words- but too the suppressed fears of his discovery were making themselves known to him as he sat, safer in his musings. It had only been a matter of time before he was found out, and since he'd been recognised in the forests, Elrond had convinced him that being seen in public would serve to show that he had nothing to hide- that nothing could be done in secret about his staying in Imladris.
The thought of anyone conspiring against him caused shivers of dread to race through his body, yet the thought in itself had him automatically thinking of Ahearn- of assuming that any plots against him would be orchestrated by the half-elf.
His stomach lurched- what he assumed was a foot kicking out- in what he liked to think of as a comforting gesture. He rubbed the area of his stomach fondly, smiling tenderly at his protruding belly and trying to push his disheartening thoughts from his mind. Though he wasn't as large as he'd seen some female elves become, Legolas was always conscious of the small bulge of which inside his growing child lay. His hand rubbed unconsciously in soothing circles as he turned his face to the window once more and his mind inwards, images of the ball taking over his mind.
Yenearsira had never before been a time of sadness or confusion for him. Always he'd relished in the night of merry-makings that lasted well into the hours of dawning day. And though he could still hear the happy Elves of Imladris as they celebrated the winter solstice, Legolas missed the sounds of his own people as they too set about in their own celebrations, missed the singing and dancing and mingling before retiring to his father's rooms whereupon the two of them- father and son- would curl up together and drink spiced wine and mull over their thoughts content in the presence of a loved one.
But then, it hadn't been like that for a long while. Not for a few years at least, not for the few years in which Ahearn and himself had been lovers- driving an invisible arrow through a previously unbreakable bond between them. And neither had known the cause, choosing to mourn the loss instead of working to mend it because attempting to mend it only served to cause more pain between them, open up more distance as words and actions quickly turned to shouts and defensive gestures. And now, he knew- unwanted tears stinging the dulled greens of his eyes- things would never again be the same between them. Especially not now after his father's actions and Legolas' reactions.
He covered his eyes with his hand least the hot tears he felt building behind his closed lids could be allowed to spill out and over- running searing trails down his cheeks, seeping through his fingers and down his slender wrist. Legolas took a deep, shuddering breath, tipping his head back and blinking furiously- feeling the salty tears clinging to his eyelashes, a bead of grief slipping out and running down his cheek in a daring bid of freedom, only to be dashed away by the back of a pale hand least any other think to try and do the same.
For now his father would hear of his stay in Imladris and come for him. Ahearn too. And what then would he do? Could he bear to put Elrond in the position of defending him against Mirkwood- his own homeland? Could Legolas bear to go against his father's wishes and refuse to return home- for despite it all he could never hate the elf, not even after all that he had forced Legolas through. Could he bear to be faced with Ahearn, a lover turned someone he now resented, having learned to see past his own love?
In truth he did not think he could bear any of it. Least of all forcing Elrond into the political difficulties that were sure to arise if he refused to give the Prince of Mirkwood back to his father, the king. He could not bear it, no, but he would- he would try at the very least, and not for anyone else's sake but that of his unborn child's. Returning to Mirkwood was to bring the babe certain death. At least in staying in Imladris, Legolas was sure to be able to allow his child the chance of life.
Rubbing at his tired eyes, Legolas rested his forehead against the windowpane, closing his eyes momentarily and expelling a huge whoosh of breath- as if releasing what he could of his tensions. He knew not how long he sat there, allowing his thoughts- fears and worries and hopes- to flitter through his mind, but soon they turned to dreams of the most unusual kind.
He settled back against the pillows, breathing evening out and deepening as in the beginnings of sleep he allowed his mind and imagination to take wing, to soar through cloudless skies of cerulean blue and over mountains, rivers, and green, green fields, over trees and forests, spinning round and down until he found himself within a maze of trees, an overgrown path spread out before him.
And he was running, the wind touching, teasing at his naked body, as he ran, ran- a path of lush green grass beneath his bare feet, sunlight streaming through the thick grouping of trees that grew all around him, reaching up, up, to touch the sky and reach for the heavens. Leaves rustled around him, touched too by fingers of wind and he laughed, the sound light and pure- the very sound of his own happiness lifting his soul.
He came to a stop in the middle of a glade- twisting, turning, head tilting to the sky as he tried to spot the sun through the criss-cross of branches and ever-moving foliage. All around him plants were in bloom with flowers so bold and beautiful he wanted to sing, his nostrils taking in their heady scent like a rush to the head.
Legolas found himself looking down at his body, noting- without a sense of fear or panic that his stomach was smooth and flat and toned- as it was before he'd been gifted with child. Yet still he smiled, rubbing at the area, a child's laugher suddenly sounding, rising up to touch at his ears, echoing around him with no sense of direction. He spun around, laughing also, calling out for the child- his child he knew- but the giggling grew distant as he spun and spun, around and around until he was spinning no longer but running and running and running some more- running and laughing in turn- happiness rushing through him in a burst of endorphins at the knowledge that he was being pursued. He ran until he could run no more, falling back against the trunk of an old oak- lying back, eyes closed as he offered himself up to his pursuer, his hunter.
Legolas opened his eyes at the sound of a horse's hooves, his gaze coming to fall on the Lord of Imladris himself, vaguely noting through half-lidded eyes that the Elven Lord too was naked as he was, but that he was only human from the waist upwards. Allowing his eyes to drift lower- no blush of modesty staining his cheeks- Legolas found that the rest of Elrond's body was as that of a horse's- the thick and glossy coat covering his lower body almost in exact likeness to that of Ahearn's favourite mare, Arroch.
Elrond approached closer, his gait elegant and proud in his centaur-like form. Legolas' lips parted as Elrond reached out to him, and he found himself raising his arm also and reaching out towards the Elven Lord, daring to touch at the Lord of Imladris, yet a breath before their fingers were allowed to touch, Legolas found the world spinning away until darkness came over him and the dream ended abruptly.
Legolas jerked awake, his body bolting upright- eyes wide and unseeing, breathing but short, sharp pants as- still held captive by the intensity of the dream- Legolas unconsciously reached down and touched himself, a jolt of pleasure shooting throughout his body in tingling waves, a sticky hotness spilling over his thighs.
With a gasp for breath, Legolas found himself frozen still as he rode out the waves of pleasure that assaulted him before leaving him boneless and slumping back against the pillows behind him, heart palpitating something fierce within his chest. His hands were trembling as he raised them to his face, wiping at the sheen of sweat that had beaded upon his brow- running his fingers through his blond hair, his mind a daze, a whir of confusion that turned quickly to shame and guilt, a flush embarrassment flooding over him as he recalled the details of his dream, and the implications of what had resulted from it washing through his spent frame.
Teeth chattering against the warmth of the room, Legolas shakily pushed himself upright, shifting to swing his legs over the edge of the window-seat, wincing at the feeling of tepid heat dribbling down the inside of his legs. He reached down, pressing the already dampened material of his sleeping robes to the offending area as he made his way into the washroom.
Sudden tears pricked at his eyes as he went about stripping himself and washing both his body and his robes with a basin of fresh water. He stilled a moment to press the back of his hand to his mouth, biting down to muffle the cry that crept up his throat and threatened to spill out into the night.
He understood not why such a dream- odd as it may seem- should have affected him so. Nor why it was of Elrond, half-elf, half-horse as he had been… half Ahearn's horse at that. He recalled the proud handsome features of both man and beast combined as tears pooled and spilt from his eyes, thinking of Elrond and his kindness- the protector, wanting, claiming; thinking of Ahearn and his dominance- always collecting the best of everything and anything he could lay his hands on. Was not Legolas the best of all of Mirkwood- in the eyes of the half-elf at least? Yet still Ahearn had chosen the horse over his own lover- always, always, always inadequate, compared… unwanted.
Was it a choice, then? One that his subconscious mind wished for him to decide upon? What though was he to choose? Whether to be claimed by Elrond or become like Arroch to Ahearn? Legolas leant back against a nearby wall, the coolness sending shivers through his body. He wrapped his arms about his stomach, recalling that in the dream he had already birthed his child- the echoes of his baby's joyous laughter echoed in his ears and he smiled through his tears.
"Whatever happens," He whispered, looking down at his protruding belly, "No matter what, you will always come first to me. Anything I do or decide will be with thought of you in mind, my baby. Mine." He rubbed at his stomach, soothing himself with the gesture until he heaved himself a sigh and moved to hang his wet but cleaned robes on a rail to dry, making his way back into his own rooms and pulling a fresh set from his cupboard.
Legolas redressed himself before daring to make his way back over towards the window seat- the pillows indented from where he'd been lying against them. He felt at the seat, breathing a sigh of relief at its untainted touch, biting his lip as fragments of dream flittered fleetingly through his mind. His fingers danced over the pillows, smoothing them out even as he allowed his mind to drift, unable to keep from lingering on the dream and the details within- as confusing and humiliating as they may be to his waking self, Legolas could not forget the sheer freedom and excitement he'd felt when running through the woods, how exhilarating the knowledge that he was being chased, pursued, by someone not out to hurt him.
Running his fingers through his hair once again, Legolas allowed himself to perch upon the seat, his eyes drifting to and out of the window, seeing that it was snowing again, large white flakes drifting down to blanket the earth around them- he could still hear the Yenearsira celebrations going on, though muted due to the distance from his room to the Hall of Fire, Legolas knew that the night was yet young to the celebrators.
A sudden light rapping at his door had Legolas tensing up, head snapping around to stare wide-eyed and timidly at the entrance to his rooms.
"Legolas?" Elrond's voice came, low and quite as if not wishing to disturb the young prince should he be asleep. Legolas flushed at the thought of returning to the realm of dreams should he experience any more… reactions to them. His flush deepened.
"Legolas, my prince, are you still awake?" For the briefest of moments Legolas nursed the idea of ignoring the Elven lord, of pretending to be asleep, but he knew that Elrond would know of his bluff. The candles about his room were still lit for a start, the dull glow still strong enough to reflect under the door, a signal to all that he was indeed still awake.
Biting his lip in slight indecision Legolas called out that Elrond should enter, hoping and praying that he could feign tiredness and excuse himself from any lengthy time in Elrond's presence. He did not think he could look the Lord of Imladris in the eye after dreaming about him in such and inappropriate way.
He heard his door opening and closing, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to see that it was indeed Elrond who had entered, before turning his back to the Elven Lord and looking out the window once more. His body was as taut as a bow as Elrond's footsteps eventually came to a stop, just within his peripheral version. Legolas moved his arms up to hug himself.
"Is all well, my prince?" Elrond's voice caused a shiver to run through Legolas' body, he looked up into Elrond's face for a moment only before he turned away again. It was only a moment Elrond had needed though to take note of Legolas' flushed and bright-eyed face, his brow creasing in concern.
"Legolas?"
"Fine," the young prince choked out, his voice catching in his throat, "I am fine, my Lord."
Elrond turned his body to face him, his head tilted in silent contemplation. Legolas shot him a quick glance from the corner of his eye, wetting his lips nervously and feeling as though he were about to be lectured, reprimanded for something done wrong.
He ducked his head to Elrond's scrutiny, flinching when a warm hand touched at his shoulder, the heat penetrating through the flimsy-feeling material of his night robes. Legolas felt suddenly exposed, moving to shy away from the Elven Lord but finding himself stilled as another hand touched at his face, tilting it upwards- he kept his eyes closed. Feeling young and foolish as he did so yet unable to help himself, feeling as though he would cry once again that night should he look upon Elrond and feel the uncertainty and despair and embarrassment over everything washing over him.
Despite himself though, a lone tear managed to escape him- his eyes opening, hand rising to dash it away only to be beaten by Elrond's own as the Elven Lord brushed his fingers across Legolas' cheek, wiping at the liquid drop. His eyes met Elrond's own, seeing the worry and confusion reflected there.
"Fine, Legolas?" Elrond asked softly, questioningly.
Legolas swallowed heavily, "I am feeling perhaps a little… overwhelmed this night, my lord, please- excuse me my behaviour."
The Elven Lord frowned, "This would have nothing to do with Elrohir would it?"
Legolas' eyes widened, heart leaping to his throat in shock as his mind jumped to all sorts of conclusions. Did Elrond know? Had he overheard Elrohir's words? Did he know what Elrohir had been saying?
"I-," But he couldn't think of a word to say in response.
"I know not what he has said to you, Legolas," Elrond reassured, reading Legolas' expression, "I know only that he followed you out when Elladan requested a word."
"Oh," Legolas turned his head away once more, his mind a whir.
Elrond's frown deepened at Legolas' slightly relieved look at his words. He worried that Elrohir had cornered Legolas for the same reasons Elladan had sought him out- were neither of his sons to simply let be that which was not?
Elladan had been quick to express his disapproval over what he dubbed 'a growing closeness' between himself and the Prince of Mirkwood, and Elrond was quick to silence his son's protests and accusations of them becoming anything more than acquaintances- for a child, old as Elladan was, should never try to control that which does not concern them, and though should anything develop between himself and Legolas only then would he seek consol with his sons, for they were dear to him also.
Elrond touched at Legolas' hand this time, lifting it into his own and holding it there. "Has Elrohir said something to upset you, Legolas?" He questioned gently, "Have I perhaps done something to offend you?" He squeezed lightly at Legolas' hand; "You act so strangely now in my presence, I fear my actions at the ball have served only to frighten you away from me?"
The blond elf looked torn as next he spoke, "Please, my Lord… it is not you."
"Elrohir then?" Elrond prompted.
"Nor your son… I…" Legolas tried to think of the right way to phrase his words, "He was merely trying to be his usual- er, helpful self."
"Helpful in what way, Legolas?"
Legolas shook his head, leaning into Elrond's touch as the elder elf made to cup at his cheek, to still his actions.
"His words have confused me."
"He has said something you do not like?"
Legolas shrugged. "He was only speaking what he sees as truth."
Elrond's thumb stroked up and down the soft skin of his cheek. "If it is any comfort to you, my prince, Elladan's words this evening have too brought confusion and the need for contemplation to me."
The blond elf blinked, startled. Fearing now that the twins had teamed up to spread their silly notions between Elrond and himself.
Elrond smiled gently at him, moving to press a soft kiss to his temple.
"I shall not ask if you do not, Legolas."
Legolas nodded, smiling softly- still unable to meet Elrond's gaze fully, yet able to accept the older elf's embrace when offered. Legolas allowed himself to bury his face against Elrond's chest, hands clinging almost desperately at the front of Elrond's robes as the Elven Lord wrapped his own arms securely about him- one around his growing waist, the other across his shoulders.
He drank in the comfort Elrond was offering, knowing that Elrond too was seeking the same from him. It was a strange thought, but one that in itself was comforting.
- - -
"Fool! You let him see you and now he has let the world see him!" Feoras snapped, glaring at his companion.
Timur looked untroubled, snorting at the other elf's words, "Hardly the world, Feoras."
"No," Feoras agreed, a scowl upon his brow, "But appearing so very publicly in Imladris is bound to cause news of his stay here to travel back to Mirkwood! We have our orders, Lord Ahearn will be most displeased should he learn you have sabotaged them with your foolhardy need to strike fear into the prince."
"My actions are never foolhardy, my friend. I saw and opportunity to find out if he was the prince or not and I took it,"
"You also gave him more reason to be on his guard. You could have just asked him for directions instead of flaunting the fact that you knew who he was!" Feoras paced the room angrily. "How are we supposed to fulfil our orders if he is more on his guard?"
Timur brushed a piece of lint from his trousers, waiting until he had his companions attention before looking up into his still glaring face, "The plans are still workable. We shall merely have to speed things along."
"And how do you propose we do that?"
Timur smirked at him. "I believe I have found us the perfect opportunity to snag us the prince- easily and unexpectedly, even should he be on his guard."
Feoras raised his eyebrows at the malicious glee evident in his friend's voice, unable to help the sadistic twitching of his own lips in response.
"Do tell?" He asked, praying that all may not be at a loss after all.
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To Be Continued…?- - -
