A/N: Sorry it took so long and sorry it IS so long! lol ;) A/L Meeting in this chapter! (My peace offering)
-Note to Amia (...who said that she thought Lorien elves lived in the trees): Yup, I thought about that, wasn't quite sure myself so I went and looked it all up at the Encyclopedia of Arda (a Tolkein encylopedia). Turns out the tree-house things are called Talans (I totally forgot hah!) and that yeah, Lorien elves do use them, but mostly just as guard posts and for ceremonial purposes. So, after turning it over in my mind for a while, I decided that it would be better to use a Rivendell-Style-Building-Structure as the youth bunk. It would definitely be easier on Glorfindel, anyway, lol...
I hope you don't mind... =T
-Note to Those Who Wanted To Know: *Taraelen* (my other story) is on the back-burner right now, while I re-evaluate it's plot. The 6th chapter will come soon, though, I think... (I hope)
-Note To Everyone: I realize in the first chapter I referred to Aragorn as 'Estel', one of his many, many names... but after writing this chapter and looking over the other one... I've come to the decision that I am really sick and tired of typing that name after having to do so in Taraelen over and over. So, from now on... Aragorn will be 'Aragorn'. Please disregard any timeline/background incongruencies... thank you! (I'll also be changing the Aragorn's in the first chapter to Aragorn's later on when I've got time)
Disclaimer: Ehh..yeah. See chapter one, thanks.
Warnings: Ah... slash, major AU, maybe a few sentences where sexual innuendo lurks (Free Aragolas flag and mug to the first one to find them), with one scene of implied evilness! I'm so bad.
But now on with the story...
*******************************************************************
Azure orbs disappeared and reappeared beneath long, sweeping lashes as Legolas slowly awakened from his nap. His eyes scrunched, blinked and then narrowed as he opened his mouth for a yawn and released the breath of sleep from his body.
He'd been dreaming of something... something shining, and glittering... green? But the memory of the dream was fleeting and Legolas suddenly forgot what it was he was thinking of...
Instead, he became aware of the sound of very loud footsteps passing just outside his door... *Door?* Now unsure of where he was, Legolas sat up in bed and gazed around.
A room. Pale oak walls. A window. Silver trees.
*Lothlorien*, Legolas thought, as he suddenly remembered,*The feast!*
Overcome with a sudden rush of eagerness to be in the company of elves who most likely wouldn't be prone to entombing him within three thick capes for the summer weather ("Oh, just in case, dear") or having snipers present during the evening meal ("Can't be too careful, son"), Legolas flew without sense straight to his bedroom door, threw it open and barreled into the hall...
...Just as another elf was passing by his doorway...
Before he could pull the breaks on his flight, Legolas went crashing into the poor, unsuspecting elf; his momentum bowling them both over.
The two youths went tumbling across the floor and stopped only when, one piled atop the other, they careened into a hard and unyielding wall with a great big THUMP.
"Ow..", Legolas moaned, as he lie on his back beneath the elf he'd smashed into in his flight. His eyes had shut on impact, but now they had began blinking and trying to focus in on the looming face above him.
Dark, unruly hair and stormy grey eyes came slowly into view...
~-------~----------~-----------~
Rewind about 10 minutes or so...
~-------~----------~-----------~
The cracks in the ceiling zig-zagged like tiny branches of lightning across the dark, hard surface above Aragorn. He'd been lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling ever since he'd come in from helping out in the stables earlier, thankful for the time to himself.
It seemed he'd been working ever since he'd awoken this morning:
~
Before he had even gone to breakfast, he was intercepted in the halls by his twin brothers who told him that Glorfindel would be needing help setting up for the feast later on in the evening because none of the other elves who were supposed to help had arrived yet. Being Lord Elrond's sons and Glorfindel being Lord Elrond's best friend... well it was only natural that the three boys volunteer for whatever duties needed tending. Aragorn had nodded obligingly, and trailed along after his brothers to find the old overseer and inquire about what needed to be done.
When they'd found Glorfindel, the ancient one had been arguing with a very disgruntled looking cook. The two stood three feet from each other, hair wild and arms waving.
Glorfindel was in the middle of shouting: "..two chickens! You're mad! I would never steal - "
The cook, too, was obviously quite fettered,"Are you calling me a liar? I will send you back to the Halls of Mandos for a second time -"
"Don't you dare ever bring that -"
"You stole my chickens! I'll say whatever I want to you! You chicken stealer!"
"There's no need to shout!"
"CHICKEN STEALER! THIEF! YOU MANIPULATE MY CHICKEN!"
"Calm yourself, sir! Please! I will replace your chickens, just do refrain from yelling. I've got this splittng headache that's -"
"I'll give you a headache", the cook waved his cleaver threateningly,"With this! Where's my chickens?"
The sons of Elrond stood around, patiently waiting for Glorfindel to finish up, and trying desperately not to smile. Elladan was having the most trouble, keeping not just himself from cracking a grin, but his twin brother, Elrohir, as well. The two struggled silently together while Aragorn easily kept himself in check with more will power than the twins could muster as a team.
When Glorfindel had finally settled the dispute and the cook had stalked off (still muttering darkly, of course - though, quietly so), the boys met him with the most innocent of expressions on their faces.
"Not. One. Word.", Glorfindel warned, seeing Elrohir was about to speak - an altogether dangerous thing.
"Of course not," Elladan said seriously, nodding quickly."Not a single word."
"Good," Glorfindel straightened up and smiled brightly,"Now, what may I help you with, young sirs?"
"Ah, but it's the other way around, *old* sir", the grinning Elrohir corrected,"We have heard that your helper-elves haven't arrived yet, and there is much still to be done. So, the question is.. what may *we* help *you* with?"
Glorfindel looked skywards, his expression gracious, before beaming down at the young ones,"Deliverance! And in the form of three rogues. My morning is off to a strange start indeed. All right", he said, turning quickly to business,"You two - who look more alike than should be genetically allowed - if you may, please go and see to setting out the tables and decorations and all that sort in the dining hall - the decorators are in desperate need of extra hands."
"Sure. Ah, but wait... In the dining hall though?," Elladan asked, slightly confused,"I thought we would be having the feast in the courtyard?"
"Well, that was the original plan ... - two weeks ago", Glorfindel explained,"But then, we realized that there would be rain tonight -"
"And sucking on soggy biscuits at the welcoming feast might put a damper on the occasion," Elrohir interjected,"No pun intended, by the way."
Elladan nodded."Oh. Right."
Glorfindel smiled and continued,"And Aragorn? The job I have for you is far beneath your station, I realize, but we're very short on hands so..."
"I don't mind, whatever it is", Aragorn said, because he really didn't mind: Aragorn was a very good boy. Elf. (Blah.)
"Well, if you insist, then... the stables?", Glorfindel said hopefully, looking a little defeated in his weariness, though it was still early in the morning,"There will be many arriving today, and horses will need to be tended to quickly so that everyone will be on their way..."
"No problem", Aragorn said, smiling. Glorfindel appeared relieved.
"Well!", said Elladan,"We'll be off then. We've many decorations to set up - "
"And many decorators to UPset! See you later, brother," Elrohir cut-in, grinning as always,"And you too, chicken stealer."
Glorfindel shot the twin a deathly look. Elrohir only widened his eyes innocently and explained,"What? It was TWO words!"
Elladan noted Glorfindel's threatening expression and firmly lead his twin brother away by the arm,"Come along, you."
Aragorn could still hear Elrohir's flimsy excuses as he was dragged around a corner by his brother, "He said 'Not One Word', but see, 'chicken stealer' is TWO words..."
Glorfindel and Aragorn just smiled and shook their heads at the dark haired twin before biding each other farewell and separating to go about their duties.
~
So, since early this morning Aragorn had been working at the stables, stopping a grand total of only three times - to eat, return nature's call, and then help unload baggages when one of the others who'd been helping was summoned away by Glorfindel.
Now, he simply lay awake on his canopied fortress of a bed, his dark head resting against his palms, so many thoughts dancing across his mind. He began imagining he could see shapes in those lines up on the ceiling...
I say shapes as in plural, but in all honesty there was only one shape that Aragorn imagined he saw... - it was the slender figure of an elf, one with the longest most glorious blonde hair; smaller lines formed the eyes, bluer than the sea, and a mouth so pretty...
"Aragorn?", called a voice from outside his door, brutally interrupting his reverie.
"Yes?", he answered, slightly annoyed. He rose to a sitting position atop his quilts,"Come in."
There was a slight squeak from the creaking hinges and then a familiar face peeked out from just above the door knob.
"Hey", Elladan said, moving up to his full height from the slightly stooped position he'd been holding,"I didn't know if you were back from the stables, yet."
"Yeah, I only got back a little while ago, actually", Aragorn replied, half-smiling,"Just resting here a bit. I was out there all day."
"I heard", Elladan grinned and leaned back against the wall beside the door,"And I see. Your clothes look unsalvagable, by the way."
Aragorn peered down at himself, noting the mud-stained tunic and the newly acquired holes of his leggings. He looked up at his brother and shrugged."Camoflauge and ventilation. What can I say? Great warriors are prepared at all times."
"Uh huh. Right", Elladan grinned, moving back towards the door again,"The feast is starting now and I'm ravenous. So change your clothes and hurry up, will you?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hey", Aragorn said suddenly, stopping Elladan from leaving the room. He gave his brother a questioning look,"Where's Elrohir, by the way?"
"Oh. Ah, well", Elladan grinned and shook his head,"You see, we were both coming to get you a few minutes ago... but um, just as we arrived at the entrance out front, three Lorien elves rode through the gates delaying my lesser half", Elladan smirked,"I could give you any number of guesses as to who those riders were, but you'll only need one..."
"Haldir, Orophin and of course Rumil.", Aragorn guessed correctly. He smiled in understanding ,"I see. All right, I'll be down in a minute. And make sure Elrohir doesn't go *anywhere* until I see him first."
Elladan nodded, gave his brother a small salute and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Sighing lazily, Aragorn rose to his feet and began picking through his clothes, all of which were neatly packed away within a fat oak dresser.
It was while Aragorn was plucking out his tunic that a small package - barely the size of the palm of his hand - tumbled out of his clothes and onto the floor.
He knew what it was, of course - what it was that glittered inside of the little package. It was a necklace. One with the an extremely small, yet most mesmerizing emerald-colored stone set within silver dangling from it's chain. The jewel had been given to him by Galadriel years ago when he hadn't even come of age yet. He remembered it perfectly: The ancient Lady had whispered to him cryptically in the most prophetic voice that the necklace would one day hold the 'flower' of his 'existence', before she ceremoniously placed the chain around his neck and bid a moment of silence.
She was always *so* dramatic.
But it was only that one day that Aragorn ever wore it, though. Forever afterwards, he'd had the emerald stone necklace packed into the small peice of fabric and stored away safely somewhere close by.
The stone was beautiful, he knew and he would have gladly worn it but.... somehow, he never felt *right* wearing it - instead, he'd always felt that the stone belonged to someone else... that someone else should have been wearing it.
Now, Aragorn only eyed the package doubtfully as he swiftly donned his clothing. And then hastily, he snatched the package up off the floor, tossed it onto his dresser and strode briskly out into the hallway to join his brothers and their friends.
So lost within his thoughts - which had suddenly become clouded with recent memories of a fair elven face belonging to a certain Mirkwood resident - the usually astutely aware Aragorn moved inattentive down the hall towards the northern staircase that would take him down to the first floor.
Had the youth been paying more attention to his surroundings as he walked, Aragorn probably would have heard the pitter-patter of rapid footsteps upon the oak floors of the building - the footsteps that were fast approaching his location. He might have been able to pause, stop or get out of the way but...
...As it were, Aragorn did not hear the footsteps in time to avoid the little accident that was to occur. Instead, he was directly in the path of the blonde flash of an elf who came speeding out of a door on the left side of the hall and was just in time - in just exactly the right place to be knocked down and thrown to the floor by the golden blur.
The entire thing was so unexpected and happened so fast:
One minute Aragorn was simply walking alone down the empty hallway, the next minute he was rolling across the hard oak boards with another elf entangled within his limbs.
*What in Arda...?*
When they'd finally rolled to stop beside a wall, Aragorn was staring down into the most beautiful face he'd ever seen.
Of course, he immedietly recognized it as belonging to the elf he'd seen earlier that afternoon - the one getting out of the carriage... the one who's image had been periodically resurfacing in his mind every minute since.
As he gazed down at the elf lying beneath him, Aragorn couldn't help but give into the slow smile that spread across his face at the sight of those elusive blue eyes gradually appearing under unbelievably long, dark lashes. Up close, the sight was so breath-taking it rivaled the sunrise.
"Good evening," Aragorn said politely. The elf beneath him groaned a little in response and his eyes scrunched. Aragorn peered down at the one beneath him, "Are you all right?"
"Fine... a bit of trouble with the breathing, though", the blonde one replied softly, in a voice so crystal clear it would have been music to Aragorn's ears - However, those pink lips suddenly moving so completely enslaved Aragorn's mind that the sound of the melodic chords did not even register within his brain. He fell entranced; under the spell of those magical lines running amuck upon the petal-like surface of the Prince's lips. Luckily, though, just before he leaned down and gave into the powerful urge to kiss the little elf, Aragorn caught himself, blinked and realized the other elf was speaking again -
".. -Can you please get off?", the elf was saying, almost a little timidly.
*Absolutely!*, thought Aragorn, but then he realized Legolas meant something else. "Oh", he said as he climbed hastily off the little blonde. "Sorry"
"No", the other elf said, as he rose to his feet beside Aragorn,"*I'm* sorry - for barreling into you -"
"Oh, no, that was my fault," Aragorn said, shaking his head and trying to regroup,"I should have been looking where I was going."
"Still...," the smaller one said, appearing thoroughly sorrowful,"I shouldn't have come just shooting out of the door like that, without even considering someone else might be walking here or something. I'm really not so clumsy usually..."
Aragorn smiled,"Neither am I. Are you all right, though? Now, I mean?"
"Perfect. You?"
"Same...", there was a single second of awkward silence as the pair stood around fidgeting, before Aragorn asked,"So, who are you?"
"Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood", was the prompt answer. Legolas nervously tucked a bit of his hair behind an ear and smiled. The simple act nearly caused Aragorn's knees to give way, but it didn't show.
Instead, Aragorn quickly volunteered his own information,"I'm called Aragorn, among a few other things. Son of Rivendell's Lord."
Legolas nodded. Aragorn was about to speak again, but stopped when he suddenly began hearing bits of sentences from below as familiar voices cut up the stairs:
"...mummble know where he is mummble mummble him to come down YEARS ago-"
"mummblemummblemummble always late, but that's Aragorn for you mummblemummble..."
Aragorn grinned and Legolas smiled (he'd heard the bit of conversation, too).
"I'd better go", Aragorn said, the grin fading. He'd only just realized that he sorely didn't want to leave the Prince."You'll be at the feast tonight?"
"I was just heading there now, actually..."
Aragorn brightened,"Then I'll see you there - I have to meet with my brothers first."
"Oh. Right. See you there, then..." Legolas said, smiling again. Aragorn returned the expression as he backed up, turned and floated down the stairs. He looked back over his shoulder again to see Legolas heading toward the southern staircase and swooned internally.
*Elbereth*, Aragorn thought, his mind flitting over the images of blue and gold that made up the Prince,*That one is so beautiful it's almost dangerous*
But the dark-haired youth had no idea how prophetic his words would prove to be, as he met with his brothers and the three Lorien elves at the foot of the staircase...
~--------------~-------------~--------------~
Up the stairs and into the Prince's mind...
~--------------~-------------~--------------~
Legolas stepped lightly down the southern stairs, trying desperately to calm his addled nerves.
The fall was over with, and he was on his feet again... so why did he still feel dizzy? Legolas thought about this as he made his way through a corrider out to the feast. *Storm-grey*, he then began thinking as he walked, *Storm-grey, that's what color they were*, referring to Aragorn's eyes. For some strange reason, he could not get that phrase or the image of that elf's peircing gaze out of his mind.
This was why upon reaching the dining hall, Legolas once again almost bowled into another elf - a female one this time, but one who's reflexes prevented the sort of accident that had occured upstairs.
"Excuse me", the female elf muttered, brushing past him in a hurry. Legolas turned to apologize, as manners had taught him, but found that the girl was already a few yards away, her dark hair tumbling behind her as she swiftly rounded a corner.
Legolas just exhaled and nodded to himself before turning to enter the room of the feast.
When he crossed the threshold of the dining hall, Legolas was forced to stop and stare wide-eyed around...
Blazing torches hanging upon the rich, mahogony colored walls illuminated every corner of the room in a sunset-orange warmth. Sturdy tables - one medium sized rectangle shaped table at each side of the room, with about a dozen small, round tables scattered between them - covered the floor of the cavenerous hall; while the musical roar of elvish voices and the sweet aromas of elvish food filled the air.
The dining hall was an impressive and very grand room, he noted.
Only after taking in the splendor of the dining hall did Legolas take note of the fact that many of the elven youths in the room kept glancing, a couple of them conspicuously pointing even, in his direction. He figured it was time to move away from the doorway and take cover somewhere.
Just then, calls from the table a few feet to his right - one of the rectangle ones - caught his attention.
"You there!," inquired they to the Prince,"By the door... Yes, you. Come closer, will you?"
Legolas went towards their table a little timidly, finding just then that his nature was a little shy. The elves of the rectangle table immediately saw this:
"Oh, don't be shy, come on. We won't bite", they said gently, not wanting to scare him off. Legolas came up on their table and stood a little nervously off to their side - nervously because their intense and obvious appraisal of him was a little disarming.
"Hello, then... ", an elf seated nearest Legolas said, smiling,"What's your name?"
"Legolas Thranduilion," was the unconsciously proud reply. Shy or not, Legolas still carried the backbone of Kings in his body.
"The Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood!", an elf towards the rear of the table said as he shot up from his seat to bow,"My father is a Lord in your eastern-most kingdom. I am a noble of your court, my Prince"
"A pleasure to meet you", Legolas answered, bowing slightly in return,"But who are you?"
"We, little beauty", said that elf nearest Legolas with a playful grin,"are the very elves your parents have been warning you about", he said while standing and bowing grandly to the Prince.
And before the Prince could object, the elf boldly captured Legolas's hand within his and planted a kiss squarely on the princely palm. Beside the two, the elves of the table erupted in amused laughter (the good kind; not mocking).
"Come," said the tall elf to Legolas, while leaning close to the Prince. He bid slyly,"Join us, fair one, and we swear to you that pleasure the sight of your lovely face brings us, we will ten-fold return to you this night", he added suggestively,"One way or another..."
Legolas's eyebrows rose in surprise.
Having never before dealt with admirers during his entire over-protected existence, the inexperienced little Prince had no idea how to respond to this sudden on-slaught of praises and innuendos. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, not knowing how to proceed and completely aware of the fact that the tall elf who'd spoken still held his hand within a clamp of strong, yet gentle fingers that moved to caress his skin softly.
"My name is Melran," the tall elf whispered to Legolas, as the others continued eating and carrying on,"And you'll sit beside me tonight, where I may help you to keep these others at bay."
Seeing no better option and rather curious of the elves about him, Legolas held no objection to their invite and allowed himself to be lead around the table to a wooden chair, the seat of which was hastily covered with a velvet cushion a second before he was helped onto it.
As he joined them, Legolas quickly found that although he was in some rather strange company, he was also in good hands and that despite their extremely forward countenance, the elves gathered around Legolas were not at all bad. They, as all other elf-minors, were only a very spirited bunch who simply enjoyed a bit of mischief and fun especially when it involved someone so sweet and innocent as the Prince seemed to them - of course, Legolas's fair face and tantalizing physiqe played a rather large role in their eagerness to befriend him, as well.
But the little gang did take quite good care of him that evening (especially the smitten Melran) - being polite, generous, curious about his background - though, without prying and, of course, voraciously flirtacious - which, you understand, could not be helped.
And best of all - not a single one of them mentioned, or even hinted at the spectacle of, what came to be known in Legolas's mind as... the Carriage Incident. Some had admitted to having spotted his beautiful face earlier, but beyond that... nothing.
So... Overall, the feast a very enjoyable event for Legoals except...
Except for the one disappointment that lingered hazily around the edges of the Prince's mind, even as he was escorted to and dropped off at his room that night by the coyly considerate Melran.
This disappointment he felt was that of never seeing again throughout the feast the elf from the hallway... the one with the dizzying storm-grey eyes... Legolas wondered almost forlornly why 'Aragorn' never appeared at the feast, though he said he would...
But more than that, as he snuffed out his bedside candle and slipped off to sleep around midnight, Legolas wondered why he even cared so much in the first place.
~------------~-----------~------------~--------------~
Earlier during the feast, unbeknownst to Legolas...
~------------~-----------~------------~--------------~
... A scruffy, grubby and barbarian-like group of elves from the South - the very deep South - were seated around a table across the room from the entrance of the dining hall, their filthy conversation and extremely un-gentle-elfly talk interrupted as they all stared bug-eyed at the Prince of Mirkwood when he first appeared at the doorway.
Food sat half-chewed within their mouths, and silverware was held still in mid-air by their thick, man-like hands as they gawked at Legolas. None of them even moved for a few moments, as none of them had ever seen one so gorgeous in all their miserably greedy lives.
Their leader, a sharp-eyed elf with a well-deserved bad reputation and a renowned tendency for violent outbursts, stared, too, but was *not* particular struck by the arrow of love, as some say, but rather... by the shining lumination of wealth exuding from Legolas.
*Whoever this new elf is*, thought the slimey leader, *he certainly is a charming wrapping to what will prove to be a bundle of gems for ... close friends...*
Within moments, the smirking leader called Cudagor began forking at his food again, throwing a glance at his gaping friends.
"Close your mouths", he ordered, shoveling a chunk of meat between his teeth,"That one is mine..."
"Who says?", a fair-haired and pointy nosed elf asked his superior sardonically. His arms were crossed and eyes were narrowed a bit challengingly; Legolas's beauty gave the cowardly elf courage for at least that much.
"I says!," answered Cudagor, easily. He gave the elf a threatening glare filled with fire and ice,"I saw him first. I spoke first. What have you got?"
"What I *haven't* got is the patience to argue with you", the elf replied quickly, quite obviously intimidated and frightened out of his mind but rolling his eyes dismissively in a pitiful attempt to save face."He's yours then."
- And that would have been the end of that conversation, except... -
"I'm not so sure", murmured a youth sitting alone at the next table. The elf's voice, distinct and direct, carried into their dirty ears and made them pause again. Every elf at Cudagor's table turned wide-eyed to look at him whom they knew to be called Tirinien.
Tirinien was an elf who was usually so very quiet that it never failed to take everyone by surprise whenever he spoke, half because they'd had no idea he was present at all. But when he did speak, his words were gold because Tirinen was known to usually give forth observations and bits of advice that were always correct and helpful when heeded.
Cudagor, knowing this, swallowed his mouthful and gave Tirinien a wary once-over,"And? Why not?"
"Do you not see how he carries himself?", Tirinien inquired simply, his eyes flashing lightly at Cudagor, who gave no answer,"Among nobles, his chin is still held high - And consciously so. Yet, what is unconscious to him is his tred, which is very majestic"
"And?", Cudagor shrugged.
"He is obviously royalty, Cudagor," Tirinien clarified,"Rich beyond your Father's wildest dreams. He is beautiful, of course. And, most likely, he is aware of this. You, however, are the grandson of a country elf who has barely the wealth to feed his neglected and abused peasants... or shall I say slaves? And who harbors only the most minimal amounts of noble blood. You would mean nothing to him - him, that Prince, that Golden Prince who will have and, probably, has already had the most well-reputed, most well-endowed of elves offered at his feet and has apparently turned them all down. Were there no competition at all, Cudagor, you would still stand no chance of gaining that elf", Tirinien paused and drew his gaze lazily over Cudogar, who, by now, was red and shaking with rage; rage for the insult and, what only Cudagor saw as, the challenge.
Tirinien, however, wasn't phased by Cudagor's fury at all,"Calm yourself", he said boredly,"I do not cause the insult, I merely speak the truth."
And Cudogar knew this.
He knew also that he could not touch Tirinien - not to beat him for the scathing 'truth' of the elf's tongue nor to quell the admiration he saw in Tirinien's pale blue eyes as they gazed at *his* Prince. Cudogar boiled in frustration because he knew Tirinien was an elf whose appearance was extremely deceptive - the slight frame of the elf looked easily defeatable, but held a strength which Cudagor had found early on that he could not defeat.
But the damage was done: Cudagor had just been lowered, challenged, enraged and easily dismissed by a lone elf who looked, for all it's deception, frail! Cudagor's very leadership was threatened; his cowardly cronies now casting him second glances, surprised that Tirinien remained seated and unbruised after the verbal assault.
With barely contained malice, Cudagor could only grunted,"Be silent, Tirinien. You know nothing! You'll see I'll make that royal elf mine in spite of your doubt. One such as I cannot be floored by a few words from a tongue-less clod like you."
"And as for the rest of you", he turned and rumbled lowly to the elves at his table, "Pay that mongrel no heed and don't make no mistake", he said, turning away from them to watch the already infamous blonde from across the room,"That ... Golden Prince will be mine." The other elves glanced uneasily at each other, and tried to go back to eating their meals."I always get what I want and *he* is what I want."
Anger was already pulsing violently through Cudagor's veins as he watched Legolas smiling and chattering with the elves of a table by the entryway,"He *will* be mine..."
*******************************************************************
Good grief that took forever... Anyone up for another chapter??
*******************************************************************
p.s. questions and comments directed to the authoress, the characters and the furniture are welcomed and encouraged!
also note that everything that happened in this chapter actually *is* important to the plot: i'm not just rambling ;)
-Note to Amia (...who said that she thought Lorien elves lived in the trees): Yup, I thought about that, wasn't quite sure myself so I went and looked it all up at the Encyclopedia of Arda (a Tolkein encylopedia). Turns out the tree-house things are called Talans (I totally forgot hah!) and that yeah, Lorien elves do use them, but mostly just as guard posts and for ceremonial purposes. So, after turning it over in my mind for a while, I decided that it would be better to use a Rivendell-Style-Building-Structure as the youth bunk. It would definitely be easier on Glorfindel, anyway, lol...
I hope you don't mind... =T
-Note to Those Who Wanted To Know: *Taraelen* (my other story) is on the back-burner right now, while I re-evaluate it's plot. The 6th chapter will come soon, though, I think... (I hope)
-Note To Everyone: I realize in the first chapter I referred to Aragorn as 'Estel', one of his many, many names... but after writing this chapter and looking over the other one... I've come to the decision that I am really sick and tired of typing that name after having to do so in Taraelen over and over. So, from now on... Aragorn will be 'Aragorn'. Please disregard any timeline/background incongruencies... thank you! (I'll also be changing the Aragorn's in the first chapter to Aragorn's later on when I've got time)
Disclaimer: Ehh..yeah. See chapter one, thanks.
Warnings: Ah... slash, major AU, maybe a few sentences where sexual innuendo lurks (Free Aragolas flag and mug to the first one to find them), with one scene of implied evilness! I'm so bad.
But now on with the story...
*******************************************************************
Azure orbs disappeared and reappeared beneath long, sweeping lashes as Legolas slowly awakened from his nap. His eyes scrunched, blinked and then narrowed as he opened his mouth for a yawn and released the breath of sleep from his body.
He'd been dreaming of something... something shining, and glittering... green? But the memory of the dream was fleeting and Legolas suddenly forgot what it was he was thinking of...
Instead, he became aware of the sound of very loud footsteps passing just outside his door... *Door?* Now unsure of where he was, Legolas sat up in bed and gazed around.
A room. Pale oak walls. A window. Silver trees.
*Lothlorien*, Legolas thought, as he suddenly remembered,*The feast!*
Overcome with a sudden rush of eagerness to be in the company of elves who most likely wouldn't be prone to entombing him within three thick capes for the summer weather ("Oh, just in case, dear") or having snipers present during the evening meal ("Can't be too careful, son"), Legolas flew without sense straight to his bedroom door, threw it open and barreled into the hall...
...Just as another elf was passing by his doorway...
Before he could pull the breaks on his flight, Legolas went crashing into the poor, unsuspecting elf; his momentum bowling them both over.
The two youths went tumbling across the floor and stopped only when, one piled atop the other, they careened into a hard and unyielding wall with a great big THUMP.
"Ow..", Legolas moaned, as he lie on his back beneath the elf he'd smashed into in his flight. His eyes had shut on impact, but now they had began blinking and trying to focus in on the looming face above him.
Dark, unruly hair and stormy grey eyes came slowly into view...
~-------~----------~-----------~
Rewind about 10 minutes or so...
~-------~----------~-----------~
The cracks in the ceiling zig-zagged like tiny branches of lightning across the dark, hard surface above Aragorn. He'd been lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling ever since he'd come in from helping out in the stables earlier, thankful for the time to himself.
It seemed he'd been working ever since he'd awoken this morning:
~
Before he had even gone to breakfast, he was intercepted in the halls by his twin brothers who told him that Glorfindel would be needing help setting up for the feast later on in the evening because none of the other elves who were supposed to help had arrived yet. Being Lord Elrond's sons and Glorfindel being Lord Elrond's best friend... well it was only natural that the three boys volunteer for whatever duties needed tending. Aragorn had nodded obligingly, and trailed along after his brothers to find the old overseer and inquire about what needed to be done.
When they'd found Glorfindel, the ancient one had been arguing with a very disgruntled looking cook. The two stood three feet from each other, hair wild and arms waving.
Glorfindel was in the middle of shouting: "..two chickens! You're mad! I would never steal - "
The cook, too, was obviously quite fettered,"Are you calling me a liar? I will send you back to the Halls of Mandos for a second time -"
"Don't you dare ever bring that -"
"You stole my chickens! I'll say whatever I want to you! You chicken stealer!"
"There's no need to shout!"
"CHICKEN STEALER! THIEF! YOU MANIPULATE MY CHICKEN!"
"Calm yourself, sir! Please! I will replace your chickens, just do refrain from yelling. I've got this splittng headache that's -"
"I'll give you a headache", the cook waved his cleaver threateningly,"With this! Where's my chickens?"
The sons of Elrond stood around, patiently waiting for Glorfindel to finish up, and trying desperately not to smile. Elladan was having the most trouble, keeping not just himself from cracking a grin, but his twin brother, Elrohir, as well. The two struggled silently together while Aragorn easily kept himself in check with more will power than the twins could muster as a team.
When Glorfindel had finally settled the dispute and the cook had stalked off (still muttering darkly, of course - though, quietly so), the boys met him with the most innocent of expressions on their faces.
"Not. One. Word.", Glorfindel warned, seeing Elrohir was about to speak - an altogether dangerous thing.
"Of course not," Elladan said seriously, nodding quickly."Not a single word."
"Good," Glorfindel straightened up and smiled brightly,"Now, what may I help you with, young sirs?"
"Ah, but it's the other way around, *old* sir", the grinning Elrohir corrected,"We have heard that your helper-elves haven't arrived yet, and there is much still to be done. So, the question is.. what may *we* help *you* with?"
Glorfindel looked skywards, his expression gracious, before beaming down at the young ones,"Deliverance! And in the form of three rogues. My morning is off to a strange start indeed. All right", he said, turning quickly to business,"You two - who look more alike than should be genetically allowed - if you may, please go and see to setting out the tables and decorations and all that sort in the dining hall - the decorators are in desperate need of extra hands."
"Sure. Ah, but wait... In the dining hall though?," Elladan asked, slightly confused,"I thought we would be having the feast in the courtyard?"
"Well, that was the original plan ... - two weeks ago", Glorfindel explained,"But then, we realized that there would be rain tonight -"
"And sucking on soggy biscuits at the welcoming feast might put a damper on the occasion," Elrohir interjected,"No pun intended, by the way."
Elladan nodded."Oh. Right."
Glorfindel smiled and continued,"And Aragorn? The job I have for you is far beneath your station, I realize, but we're very short on hands so..."
"I don't mind, whatever it is", Aragorn said, because he really didn't mind: Aragorn was a very good boy. Elf. (Blah.)
"Well, if you insist, then... the stables?", Glorfindel said hopefully, looking a little defeated in his weariness, though it was still early in the morning,"There will be many arriving today, and horses will need to be tended to quickly so that everyone will be on their way..."
"No problem", Aragorn said, smiling. Glorfindel appeared relieved.
"Well!", said Elladan,"We'll be off then. We've many decorations to set up - "
"And many decorators to UPset! See you later, brother," Elrohir cut-in, grinning as always,"And you too, chicken stealer."
Glorfindel shot the twin a deathly look. Elrohir only widened his eyes innocently and explained,"What? It was TWO words!"
Elladan noted Glorfindel's threatening expression and firmly lead his twin brother away by the arm,"Come along, you."
Aragorn could still hear Elrohir's flimsy excuses as he was dragged around a corner by his brother, "He said 'Not One Word', but see, 'chicken stealer' is TWO words..."
Glorfindel and Aragorn just smiled and shook their heads at the dark haired twin before biding each other farewell and separating to go about their duties.
~
So, since early this morning Aragorn had been working at the stables, stopping a grand total of only three times - to eat, return nature's call, and then help unload baggages when one of the others who'd been helping was summoned away by Glorfindel.
Now, he simply lay awake on his canopied fortress of a bed, his dark head resting against his palms, so many thoughts dancing across his mind. He began imagining he could see shapes in those lines up on the ceiling...
I say shapes as in plural, but in all honesty there was only one shape that Aragorn imagined he saw... - it was the slender figure of an elf, one with the longest most glorious blonde hair; smaller lines formed the eyes, bluer than the sea, and a mouth so pretty...
"Aragorn?", called a voice from outside his door, brutally interrupting his reverie.
"Yes?", he answered, slightly annoyed. He rose to a sitting position atop his quilts,"Come in."
There was a slight squeak from the creaking hinges and then a familiar face peeked out from just above the door knob.
"Hey", Elladan said, moving up to his full height from the slightly stooped position he'd been holding,"I didn't know if you were back from the stables, yet."
"Yeah, I only got back a little while ago, actually", Aragorn replied, half-smiling,"Just resting here a bit. I was out there all day."
"I heard", Elladan grinned and leaned back against the wall beside the door,"And I see. Your clothes look unsalvagable, by the way."
Aragorn peered down at himself, noting the mud-stained tunic and the newly acquired holes of his leggings. He looked up at his brother and shrugged."Camoflauge and ventilation. What can I say? Great warriors are prepared at all times."
"Uh huh. Right", Elladan grinned, moving back towards the door again,"The feast is starting now and I'm ravenous. So change your clothes and hurry up, will you?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hey", Aragorn said suddenly, stopping Elladan from leaving the room. He gave his brother a questioning look,"Where's Elrohir, by the way?"
"Oh. Ah, well", Elladan grinned and shook his head,"You see, we were both coming to get you a few minutes ago... but um, just as we arrived at the entrance out front, three Lorien elves rode through the gates delaying my lesser half", Elladan smirked,"I could give you any number of guesses as to who those riders were, but you'll only need one..."
"Haldir, Orophin and of course Rumil.", Aragorn guessed correctly. He smiled in understanding ,"I see. All right, I'll be down in a minute. And make sure Elrohir doesn't go *anywhere* until I see him first."
Elladan nodded, gave his brother a small salute and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Sighing lazily, Aragorn rose to his feet and began picking through his clothes, all of which were neatly packed away within a fat oak dresser.
It was while Aragorn was plucking out his tunic that a small package - barely the size of the palm of his hand - tumbled out of his clothes and onto the floor.
He knew what it was, of course - what it was that glittered inside of the little package. It was a necklace. One with the an extremely small, yet most mesmerizing emerald-colored stone set within silver dangling from it's chain. The jewel had been given to him by Galadriel years ago when he hadn't even come of age yet. He remembered it perfectly: The ancient Lady had whispered to him cryptically in the most prophetic voice that the necklace would one day hold the 'flower' of his 'existence', before she ceremoniously placed the chain around his neck and bid a moment of silence.
She was always *so* dramatic.
But it was only that one day that Aragorn ever wore it, though. Forever afterwards, he'd had the emerald stone necklace packed into the small peice of fabric and stored away safely somewhere close by.
The stone was beautiful, he knew and he would have gladly worn it but.... somehow, he never felt *right* wearing it - instead, he'd always felt that the stone belonged to someone else... that someone else should have been wearing it.
Now, Aragorn only eyed the package doubtfully as he swiftly donned his clothing. And then hastily, he snatched the package up off the floor, tossed it onto his dresser and strode briskly out into the hallway to join his brothers and their friends.
So lost within his thoughts - which had suddenly become clouded with recent memories of a fair elven face belonging to a certain Mirkwood resident - the usually astutely aware Aragorn moved inattentive down the hall towards the northern staircase that would take him down to the first floor.
Had the youth been paying more attention to his surroundings as he walked, Aragorn probably would have heard the pitter-patter of rapid footsteps upon the oak floors of the building - the footsteps that were fast approaching his location. He might have been able to pause, stop or get out of the way but...
...As it were, Aragorn did not hear the footsteps in time to avoid the little accident that was to occur. Instead, he was directly in the path of the blonde flash of an elf who came speeding out of a door on the left side of the hall and was just in time - in just exactly the right place to be knocked down and thrown to the floor by the golden blur.
The entire thing was so unexpected and happened so fast:
One minute Aragorn was simply walking alone down the empty hallway, the next minute he was rolling across the hard oak boards with another elf entangled within his limbs.
*What in Arda...?*
When they'd finally rolled to stop beside a wall, Aragorn was staring down into the most beautiful face he'd ever seen.
Of course, he immedietly recognized it as belonging to the elf he'd seen earlier that afternoon - the one getting out of the carriage... the one who's image had been periodically resurfacing in his mind every minute since.
As he gazed down at the elf lying beneath him, Aragorn couldn't help but give into the slow smile that spread across his face at the sight of those elusive blue eyes gradually appearing under unbelievably long, dark lashes. Up close, the sight was so breath-taking it rivaled the sunrise.
"Good evening," Aragorn said politely. The elf beneath him groaned a little in response and his eyes scrunched. Aragorn peered down at the one beneath him, "Are you all right?"
"Fine... a bit of trouble with the breathing, though", the blonde one replied softly, in a voice so crystal clear it would have been music to Aragorn's ears - However, those pink lips suddenly moving so completely enslaved Aragorn's mind that the sound of the melodic chords did not even register within his brain. He fell entranced; under the spell of those magical lines running amuck upon the petal-like surface of the Prince's lips. Luckily, though, just before he leaned down and gave into the powerful urge to kiss the little elf, Aragorn caught himself, blinked and realized the other elf was speaking again -
".. -Can you please get off?", the elf was saying, almost a little timidly.
*Absolutely!*, thought Aragorn, but then he realized Legolas meant something else. "Oh", he said as he climbed hastily off the little blonde. "Sorry"
"No", the other elf said, as he rose to his feet beside Aragorn,"*I'm* sorry - for barreling into you -"
"Oh, no, that was my fault," Aragorn said, shaking his head and trying to regroup,"I should have been looking where I was going."
"Still...," the smaller one said, appearing thoroughly sorrowful,"I shouldn't have come just shooting out of the door like that, without even considering someone else might be walking here or something. I'm really not so clumsy usually..."
Aragorn smiled,"Neither am I. Are you all right, though? Now, I mean?"
"Perfect. You?"
"Same...", there was a single second of awkward silence as the pair stood around fidgeting, before Aragorn asked,"So, who are you?"
"Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood", was the prompt answer. Legolas nervously tucked a bit of his hair behind an ear and smiled. The simple act nearly caused Aragorn's knees to give way, but it didn't show.
Instead, Aragorn quickly volunteered his own information,"I'm called Aragorn, among a few other things. Son of Rivendell's Lord."
Legolas nodded. Aragorn was about to speak again, but stopped when he suddenly began hearing bits of sentences from below as familiar voices cut up the stairs:
"...mummble know where he is mummble mummble him to come down YEARS ago-"
"mummblemummblemummble always late, but that's Aragorn for you mummblemummble..."
Aragorn grinned and Legolas smiled (he'd heard the bit of conversation, too).
"I'd better go", Aragorn said, the grin fading. He'd only just realized that he sorely didn't want to leave the Prince."You'll be at the feast tonight?"
"I was just heading there now, actually..."
Aragorn brightened,"Then I'll see you there - I have to meet with my brothers first."
"Oh. Right. See you there, then..." Legolas said, smiling again. Aragorn returned the expression as he backed up, turned and floated down the stairs. He looked back over his shoulder again to see Legolas heading toward the southern staircase and swooned internally.
*Elbereth*, Aragorn thought, his mind flitting over the images of blue and gold that made up the Prince,*That one is so beautiful it's almost dangerous*
But the dark-haired youth had no idea how prophetic his words would prove to be, as he met with his brothers and the three Lorien elves at the foot of the staircase...
~--------------~-------------~--------------~
Up the stairs and into the Prince's mind...
~--------------~-------------~--------------~
Legolas stepped lightly down the southern stairs, trying desperately to calm his addled nerves.
The fall was over with, and he was on his feet again... so why did he still feel dizzy? Legolas thought about this as he made his way through a corrider out to the feast. *Storm-grey*, he then began thinking as he walked, *Storm-grey, that's what color they were*, referring to Aragorn's eyes. For some strange reason, he could not get that phrase or the image of that elf's peircing gaze out of his mind.
This was why upon reaching the dining hall, Legolas once again almost bowled into another elf - a female one this time, but one who's reflexes prevented the sort of accident that had occured upstairs.
"Excuse me", the female elf muttered, brushing past him in a hurry. Legolas turned to apologize, as manners had taught him, but found that the girl was already a few yards away, her dark hair tumbling behind her as she swiftly rounded a corner.
Legolas just exhaled and nodded to himself before turning to enter the room of the feast.
When he crossed the threshold of the dining hall, Legolas was forced to stop and stare wide-eyed around...
Blazing torches hanging upon the rich, mahogony colored walls illuminated every corner of the room in a sunset-orange warmth. Sturdy tables - one medium sized rectangle shaped table at each side of the room, with about a dozen small, round tables scattered between them - covered the floor of the cavenerous hall; while the musical roar of elvish voices and the sweet aromas of elvish food filled the air.
The dining hall was an impressive and very grand room, he noted.
Only after taking in the splendor of the dining hall did Legolas take note of the fact that many of the elven youths in the room kept glancing, a couple of them conspicuously pointing even, in his direction. He figured it was time to move away from the doorway and take cover somewhere.
Just then, calls from the table a few feet to his right - one of the rectangle ones - caught his attention.
"You there!," inquired they to the Prince,"By the door... Yes, you. Come closer, will you?"
Legolas went towards their table a little timidly, finding just then that his nature was a little shy. The elves of the rectangle table immediately saw this:
"Oh, don't be shy, come on. We won't bite", they said gently, not wanting to scare him off. Legolas came up on their table and stood a little nervously off to their side - nervously because their intense and obvious appraisal of him was a little disarming.
"Hello, then... ", an elf seated nearest Legolas said, smiling,"What's your name?"
"Legolas Thranduilion," was the unconsciously proud reply. Shy or not, Legolas still carried the backbone of Kings in his body.
"The Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood!", an elf towards the rear of the table said as he shot up from his seat to bow,"My father is a Lord in your eastern-most kingdom. I am a noble of your court, my Prince"
"A pleasure to meet you", Legolas answered, bowing slightly in return,"But who are you?"
"We, little beauty", said that elf nearest Legolas with a playful grin,"are the very elves your parents have been warning you about", he said while standing and bowing grandly to the Prince.
And before the Prince could object, the elf boldly captured Legolas's hand within his and planted a kiss squarely on the princely palm. Beside the two, the elves of the table erupted in amused laughter (the good kind; not mocking).
"Come," said the tall elf to Legolas, while leaning close to the Prince. He bid slyly,"Join us, fair one, and we swear to you that pleasure the sight of your lovely face brings us, we will ten-fold return to you this night", he added suggestively,"One way or another..."
Legolas's eyebrows rose in surprise.
Having never before dealt with admirers during his entire over-protected existence, the inexperienced little Prince had no idea how to respond to this sudden on-slaught of praises and innuendos. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, not knowing how to proceed and completely aware of the fact that the tall elf who'd spoken still held his hand within a clamp of strong, yet gentle fingers that moved to caress his skin softly.
"My name is Melran," the tall elf whispered to Legolas, as the others continued eating and carrying on,"And you'll sit beside me tonight, where I may help you to keep these others at bay."
Seeing no better option and rather curious of the elves about him, Legolas held no objection to their invite and allowed himself to be lead around the table to a wooden chair, the seat of which was hastily covered with a velvet cushion a second before he was helped onto it.
As he joined them, Legolas quickly found that although he was in some rather strange company, he was also in good hands and that despite their extremely forward countenance, the elves gathered around Legolas were not at all bad. They, as all other elf-minors, were only a very spirited bunch who simply enjoyed a bit of mischief and fun especially when it involved someone so sweet and innocent as the Prince seemed to them - of course, Legolas's fair face and tantalizing physiqe played a rather large role in their eagerness to befriend him, as well.
But the little gang did take quite good care of him that evening (especially the smitten Melran) - being polite, generous, curious about his background - though, without prying and, of course, voraciously flirtacious - which, you understand, could not be helped.
And best of all - not a single one of them mentioned, or even hinted at the spectacle of, what came to be known in Legolas's mind as... the Carriage Incident. Some had admitted to having spotted his beautiful face earlier, but beyond that... nothing.
So... Overall, the feast a very enjoyable event for Legoals except...
Except for the one disappointment that lingered hazily around the edges of the Prince's mind, even as he was escorted to and dropped off at his room that night by the coyly considerate Melran.
This disappointment he felt was that of never seeing again throughout the feast the elf from the hallway... the one with the dizzying storm-grey eyes... Legolas wondered almost forlornly why 'Aragorn' never appeared at the feast, though he said he would...
But more than that, as he snuffed out his bedside candle and slipped off to sleep around midnight, Legolas wondered why he even cared so much in the first place.
~------------~-----------~------------~--------------~
Earlier during the feast, unbeknownst to Legolas...
~------------~-----------~------------~--------------~
... A scruffy, grubby and barbarian-like group of elves from the South - the very deep South - were seated around a table across the room from the entrance of the dining hall, their filthy conversation and extremely un-gentle-elfly talk interrupted as they all stared bug-eyed at the Prince of Mirkwood when he first appeared at the doorway.
Food sat half-chewed within their mouths, and silverware was held still in mid-air by their thick, man-like hands as they gawked at Legolas. None of them even moved for a few moments, as none of them had ever seen one so gorgeous in all their miserably greedy lives.
Their leader, a sharp-eyed elf with a well-deserved bad reputation and a renowned tendency for violent outbursts, stared, too, but was *not* particular struck by the arrow of love, as some say, but rather... by the shining lumination of wealth exuding from Legolas.
*Whoever this new elf is*, thought the slimey leader, *he certainly is a charming wrapping to what will prove to be a bundle of gems for ... close friends...*
Within moments, the smirking leader called Cudagor began forking at his food again, throwing a glance at his gaping friends.
"Close your mouths", he ordered, shoveling a chunk of meat between his teeth,"That one is mine..."
"Who says?", a fair-haired and pointy nosed elf asked his superior sardonically. His arms were crossed and eyes were narrowed a bit challengingly; Legolas's beauty gave the cowardly elf courage for at least that much.
"I says!," answered Cudagor, easily. He gave the elf a threatening glare filled with fire and ice,"I saw him first. I spoke first. What have you got?"
"What I *haven't* got is the patience to argue with you", the elf replied quickly, quite obviously intimidated and frightened out of his mind but rolling his eyes dismissively in a pitiful attempt to save face."He's yours then."
- And that would have been the end of that conversation, except... -
"I'm not so sure", murmured a youth sitting alone at the next table. The elf's voice, distinct and direct, carried into their dirty ears and made them pause again. Every elf at Cudagor's table turned wide-eyed to look at him whom they knew to be called Tirinien.
Tirinien was an elf who was usually so very quiet that it never failed to take everyone by surprise whenever he spoke, half because they'd had no idea he was present at all. But when he did speak, his words were gold because Tirinen was known to usually give forth observations and bits of advice that were always correct and helpful when heeded.
Cudagor, knowing this, swallowed his mouthful and gave Tirinien a wary once-over,"And? Why not?"
"Do you not see how he carries himself?", Tirinien inquired simply, his eyes flashing lightly at Cudagor, who gave no answer,"Among nobles, his chin is still held high - And consciously so. Yet, what is unconscious to him is his tred, which is very majestic"
"And?", Cudagor shrugged.
"He is obviously royalty, Cudagor," Tirinien clarified,"Rich beyond your Father's wildest dreams. He is beautiful, of course. And, most likely, he is aware of this. You, however, are the grandson of a country elf who has barely the wealth to feed his neglected and abused peasants... or shall I say slaves? And who harbors only the most minimal amounts of noble blood. You would mean nothing to him - him, that Prince, that Golden Prince who will have and, probably, has already had the most well-reputed, most well-endowed of elves offered at his feet and has apparently turned them all down. Were there no competition at all, Cudagor, you would still stand no chance of gaining that elf", Tirinien paused and drew his gaze lazily over Cudogar, who, by now, was red and shaking with rage; rage for the insult and, what only Cudagor saw as, the challenge.
Tirinien, however, wasn't phased by Cudagor's fury at all,"Calm yourself", he said boredly,"I do not cause the insult, I merely speak the truth."
And Cudogar knew this.
He knew also that he could not touch Tirinien - not to beat him for the scathing 'truth' of the elf's tongue nor to quell the admiration he saw in Tirinien's pale blue eyes as they gazed at *his* Prince. Cudogar boiled in frustration because he knew Tirinien was an elf whose appearance was extremely deceptive - the slight frame of the elf looked easily defeatable, but held a strength which Cudagor had found early on that he could not defeat.
But the damage was done: Cudagor had just been lowered, challenged, enraged and easily dismissed by a lone elf who looked, for all it's deception, frail! Cudagor's very leadership was threatened; his cowardly cronies now casting him second glances, surprised that Tirinien remained seated and unbruised after the verbal assault.
With barely contained malice, Cudagor could only grunted,"Be silent, Tirinien. You know nothing! You'll see I'll make that royal elf mine in spite of your doubt. One such as I cannot be floored by a few words from a tongue-less clod like you."
"And as for the rest of you", he turned and rumbled lowly to the elves at his table, "Pay that mongrel no heed and don't make no mistake", he said, turning away from them to watch the already infamous blonde from across the room,"That ... Golden Prince will be mine." The other elves glanced uneasily at each other, and tried to go back to eating their meals."I always get what I want and *he* is what I want."
Anger was already pulsing violently through Cudagor's veins as he watched Legolas smiling and chattering with the elves of a table by the entryway,"He *will* be mine..."
*******************************************************************
Good grief that took forever... Anyone up for another chapter??
*******************************************************************
p.s. questions and comments directed to the authoress, the characters and the furniture are welcomed and encouraged!
also note that everything that happened in this chapter actually *is* important to the plot: i'm not just rambling ;)