"There he rose up out of the water; only a mortal man, a small creature lost and abandoned in the wilds of Middle-earth. But to the night-eyed orcs that lurked there on the watch he loomed up, a monstrous shadow of fear, with a piercing eye like a star. They loosed their poisoned arrows at it, and fled. Needlessly, for Isildur unarmed was pierced through heart and throat, and without a cry he fell back into the water. No trace of his body was ever found by Elves or Men."

- Disaster of the Gladden Fields, Unfinished Tales of Numenor and Middle-Earth

The Palace of Minas Vrun had been converted into a kind of council chamber; where once a great throne had sat, carpets and pillows had been spread about on the floor. Lanterns and candles were all about, shedding light on the dark place, and the relaxed closeness gave the room an intimate feeling. Orcs sat all around, some simple people of the city, others the Elders, sitting upon the foot of the throne, at the head of the room. There were some fifty or more in the room, and all their eyes were upon Azog, and Elrond.

Azog met all their eyes with no shame. Head held high, his gaze dark and daring. He stepped forward, standing while all others (besides Elrond; Thurag darted off soon as she could, taking a seat in the audience) sat, as was their way. Those who were on trial had to present themselves to all.

The Eldest of Elders, sitting in the middle of the room, lifted their staff, and banged its end upon the floor three times. The whole room went quiet. The only sound was the quiet dripping of water somewhere, through the cracks in the ceiling.

"Azog," The Elder began. "We have called you here before All to judge your actions. Do you deny bringing a golug into Goi-suk?"

They were, luckily, speaking the Common Tongue. Azog was slightly surprised; he'd thought he'd have to press the issue. Lifting his chin as if daring any to oppose him, Azog replied simply, "I did."

"And is it not this golug who is with you now?"

"He is, yes."

Off to the side, sitting on the left, was Zlurik, and by the look on his face he was pissed. That almost made Azog grin, but he kept it to himself. The orc was almost twitching, arms crossed, a heavy frown upon his face. His dark eyes were boring holes into Azog. He risked a quick wink at the asshole, who bristled and discretely sent a few unsavory hand gestures his way.

"Do you deny bringing danger and a threat amongst the people?"

"I do deny that."

"Explain your actions."

Turning, Azog looked back at Elrond, and his eyes softened. "This elf means us no harm. I know him well; I owe him my life, more than once, and he has been nothing but good to me. I swear by my own life, he will never harm any here."

"Saved your life?" The Elder who was furthest on the left said. "How so?"

That… was a problem. Flummoxed, Azog hesitated for a moment. How to explain how Elrond had saved him… without revealing he was the Lord of Rivendell?

At that moment, he felt a presence at his side. "If I may," Elrond began. "Might I be permitted to tell the tale?"

Azog glanced at him, then at the elders. They spoke among themselves for a moment, before the Eldest nodded. "Speak, golug."

Elrond glanced at him, and Azog nodded, stepping back. Elrond took his place center stage, his hands clasped in front of him, shoulders back, head held high. He might've been taking the stage in the Hall of Fire, he looked so comfortable. But then, these sorts of political maneuverings were much more familiar to Elrond. Azog was already quite sick of it.

"I was a - servant in the House of Elrond, in Rivendell, a haven for elves in the Trollshaws. Rivendell was my home for some time, and her Lord was as family to me. I say this to explain why I was given a great deal of leisure in the matter with Azog."

"Azog came to Rivendell, fleeing from the Dark Lord's forces, when our scouts found him. He was taken to my Lord, and I was with him at the time. Azog was quite injured; without care, I knew he would die, and I pitied him. It seemed my Lord was inclined to allow him to die, but I pleaded his case. As Azog had not attacked us, but had been attacked himself, was it not wrong not to care for him?"

"It was difficult, but I managed to convince my Lord to let me care for him. In time, he recovered, and my Lord permitted him leave to stay."

"This is how you met?"

"Yes," Elrond nodded.

"And your name?"

"Elros, of Rivendell."

"That still does not explain what he is doing here." Zlurik interjected suddenly, half standing out of his seat. Azog rolled his eyes.

"Why do you think he's here?" The orc replied, spitting out a rather harsh insult in the Black speech. "Why else would one travel across the world for another?"

"What are you implying?" Finally Zlurik did stand, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "He is no family of yours, and an elf could not possibly be anything to one of us."

"He is to me." Azog crossed his arms, meeting Zlurik's glare with his own. Between them, Elrond stood, confused and concerned and very unsure of what to do, other than stand quietly and hope nothing went wrong. "He is my mate."

The room erupted into loud conversation, thundering through the domed ceiling, as the Elder banged his staff uselessly and called for silence. Zlurik stood motionless, slack jawed, and the idiotic look on his face was one Azog would savor for some time.

"Silence!" Finally, the Elder managed to calm the room, but the atmosphere was still tense, and almost electric. "Is this true? This – Elros is your mate?"

"Yes, Elder." Azog said, moving to stand beside Elrond. For a moment, it seemed the Elder was as flabbergasted as Zlurik.

The Elder on the right, perhaps realizing the other was speechless, leaned forward. "You are here to join Azog, to live with him as his mate?"

"I am, if that would be permitted." Elrond said, giving a slight bow. "It is all I want."

The Elders spoke amongst themselves again, in hushed tones, and some minutes passed before they turned to face their audience again.

"Elros, of Rivendell," The Elder began. "You are permitted to stay, so long as you abide by the rules we set forth for you. You shall be accompanied at all times. You shall adhere to a curfew, travel only within the designated areas we assign to you, and you will report once every fortnight to the Guard Captain to ensure you are obeying these rules. Most of all, is this: you can never leave Goi-suk."

Azog felt Elrond stiffen beside him. The orc held his breath. He'd known this would be a stipulation of Elrond's stay. There was no way the elf would agree. He had friends and family, responsibilities in the world outside the city. He would want to go home eventually. Surely now Elrond would see this whole thing was folly, and he would leave?

It wasn't exactly what Azog wanted, but he was used to being denied.

"Yes," Elrond said, and Azog almost fell over. "I agree."

"Are you mad?"

Elrond let a wry smile grace his face. His lover had been strangely quiet the whole way back to his home; the elf had expected a reaction like this. Still smiling, he turned to face Azog, who stood in the entryway to his mansion with an incredulous, almost angry expression.

"Do you realize what you've done? You've bargained your life away!" Azog spat, storming forward. "You cannot sincerely want this."

"Of course I do," Elrond replied dryly. "Why else would I have asked for it?"

"There is still time to request a new verdict." Azog continued on as if Elrond hadn't spoken, gripping his shoulders tightly. "The Elders are wise, they'll change their minds. We can have you back on your horse and heading home by tonight."

The smile dropped. "So eager to be rid of me?"

"Of course not!" The orc growled.

Lifting his arms, Elrond gently pried Azog off, and gripped his hand in both of his. "I understand your concern and I am warmed by it." The elf smiled again. "But understand, I have no intention of staying here forever."

"Then…?"

"If I had said no, they'd have forced me to leave." He shrugged. "I will worry about leaving when the time comes. For now, I am content to stay. I want to stay. With you." Squeezing Azog's hand, Elrond leaned closer to him, taking comfort from his larger form.

"You…" The orc let out a string of orcish that was probably less than kind, but was also tinged with a fond tone. "You are a fool."

"A fool in love," Elrond grinned against Azog's neck, then placed a kiss upon it. The orc growled and he felt it in his own chest, and the feeling sent shivers up and down his spine. Azog's hand fell upon his back, and drifted lower, until…

"Ahem."

Another growl, but this one was far less amused. Azog turned, still holding Elrond in his embrace, and in doing so, revealed the doorway to Elrond. In it stood the orc Azog seemed so displeased by: Zlurik. He had an expression on his face like he'd just tasted something bitter and it was set upon the two of them. Embarrassment flushed Elrond's face, but he stayed where he was.

"What do you want?" Azog spat. "Come to bother us more? We have the Elder's approval; you can fuck off."

"I'll gladly do so, but I was doing you a favor." Zlurik threw back in return. "Unless you'd like me to let the wargs eat this nasty beast?"

"Nasty beast?" Could it be…? Elrond stepped out of Azog's embrace, heading for the door. Out in the courtyard stood a blond horse, with a saddlebag still on its back. "Dannas!" Joy filled his heart as he approached her, running his hands over her neck. The horse was pleased to be with her master, gently nudging at him with her nose. When footsteps behind him alerted him to the orc's presence, Elrond turned, and smiled. "Thank you very much," He told Zlurik. "Dannas is as dear to me as my own heart,"

The orc sneered. "I did not do it for you." He said, as he moved past the elf and his horse, looking down on them with disdain. "The wargs deserve better meat than golug horse-flesh." With that, he turned and sauntered off, away from the mansion.

"One of these days," Azog growled at his departing figure, "I'm going to kill him."

"Who is he?" Elrond asked, turning.

"Zlurik, Captain of the Guard."

"You mean…?"

"Yes, your babysitter." He snorted. "I'm sorry for all that. It seems the Elders don't trust me as much as I thought."

Frowning, Elrond pondered the reasons for such a thing. "Perhaps my coming here has done more damage than I imagined." Had he hurt Azog's standing with his own people?

A hand gently lifted his chin, before lips covered his own. "Your coming here is nothing less than a gift from the Gods." Azog muttered against his mouth.

Though they both reveled in the pleasure of kissing for a time, it was clear Elrond was not up to much more than that. He tired easily, and the events of the day had exhausted him. Within the hour, he was resting in Azog's hammock, while the orc sat nearby, sharpening his knife.

For a while, all was quiet, the only sounds the quiet thrumming of metal as Azog worked. He'd even thought Elrond asleep; but after a while, a groggy voice came from the hammock.

"Do you know what became of him?"

"Of who?" Azog asked, still focused upon his blade.

Elrond turned to face him, his hair a curtain slowly sliding down the hammock. "Isildur."

That made Azog lift his eyes. Gaze narrowed, he looked at his exhausted lover. "No, I am afraid not."

Half lidded eyes glanced away. "Perhaps some other orcs killed him…"

"I doubt it." Azog replied. "Such a kill would have brought them great honor. They would have let everyone know they had triumphed over Isildur." Elrond's eyes met Azog's, and the orc continued. "Orcs did not kill him." That did not seem to please him. Concerned, Azog set his blade aside. "We'd always thought he'd escaped the attack, and fled to Rivendell."

"He tried." Elrond said, exhaustion darkening his voice and making it heavy. "His sons sacrificed their lives, that he might escape with the Ring of Power. But he never made it to Rivendell, and his body was never found." Sighing, the elf took a moment to breathe, before continuing. "It was too much to hope for, that you would have an answer. If orcs had killed Isildur and taken the Ring, I find it hard to believe the Dark Lord would not have started another war already."

"True enough," Azog mumbled, unsure of what to say. He'd never known much about Isildur. Famous hero of Men, the supposed conqueror of the Dark Lord, if only by luck. But he was clearly much more to Elrond, if the melancholy tone of his voice said anything. It only reminded Azog of how much there was in Elrond's long life that he did not know about… and thinking of that made him think about the day before…

"What was that dream you had?" Azog asked finally. Elrond, whose eyes had fallen shut, came awake again, tired eyes glancing to him. "Sorry. Go ahead and rest."

"No, it's fine." The elf managed a smile. "What did you say?"

"That dream you had, the night we were reunited. What was it?"

Elrond's look darkened. "An old memory, and not a kind one." He said. "Of the beginning of Sauron's assault upon Middle-Earth."

"There was an elf, in your dream. Who was he?"

"I suppose you mean the elf Sauron captured?" Azog nodded. "His name was Celebrimbor, a Noldorin Prince, last of the House of Feanor, Lord of Eregion, and Forger of the Rings of Power."

"Was he your friend?"

Elrond shook his head. "I never knew him well."

"Yet, he haunts you."

"I feel as though I failed him." The elf sighed, his eyes drifting heavenward, even as they slipped closed again. "I know now such thoughts are folly. We were far outnumbered, and I am lucky to even be alive. Yet… I cannot help but doubt sometimes… and wonder if I did enough…" Slowly he slipped into sleep, and Azog remained, watching over him, long after.