Chapter 8 - Faron Takes Charge
"I don't like it," Faron grumbled, glaring at Filigod. "I tell you, something is wrong and his heart has been wounded."
"I don't doubt it," rejoined Filigod, "but he'll live and the less attention focused on it now, the quicker his hurt will mend."
"Nay," Faron shook his head solemnly. "You know how he is. Legolas will pretend everything is fine, ignoring the pain, staunching the bleeding until he collapses on the doorstep of Námo's Halls." Several murmured affirmations followed from the rest of the warriors listening in grave concern.
They were gathered far from the barracks and the impressive Last Homely House, perched amid the branches of a small wood they'd passed on the way in the day before, an encroachment of wild trees inside the manicured boundaries of the stately home. The stone wall over which they'd extended rather decrepit and broken, evidence that few of the High Elves ventured to this remote corner of the estate. Mallavorn drew breath and opened his mouth to speak, but the warrior next to him kicked him on the shin and scowled fiercely. They'd heard enough of the frivolous ellon's inappropriate remarks for the time being.
"That is true when he thinks the healers will confine him to the infirmary and he'll miss the next patrol," argued Filigod. "This is a different sort of injury altogether. Put yourself in his place; would you want to be reminded of something like this everyday?"
"No, but neither would I want my friends and kinsmen to behave as though it were trifling. Legolas will be glad to know we refuse to sit by and accept Elrond's atrocious behaviour," Faron explained. "There is something that perhaps you've missed, Filigod. Legolas did not know it was Elrond he was with."
"What? That is not what he said," Filigod gave the demi-prince a morose look. "Are you guessing or do you know it for a fact?"
"It is a fact. Almost the first words out of his mouth when he saw me, Filigod, were 'I didn't know'. I tell you, he had only in that very moment realised the magnitude of his indiscretion and he was completely unnerved by it. "
"Ai Valar!" wailed Mallavorn. "I wondered how he could choose such an unsavoury character for his first time."
"You be silent, alhand!" warned his tree-mate, glaring, and kicked him again.
"So then Lord Elrond was pretending to be someone else, too?" another warrior asked, just to be clear, for this was the most bizarre comedy of errors any of them had ever encountered.
"What other explanation can there be?" Faron demanded. He met every set of eyes and found within them renewed outrage.
It was one thing for Tuiw to play a harmless prank of altered identity to escape tedious meetings and boring banquets, another for the Lord of Imladris to work a similar subterfuge upon their prince and thereby gain from him so rare a gift, a gift that ought to be conferred only under full knowledge of whom the beneficiary is. To take another's virginity under false pretences was an act of villainy unsurpassed save by the rape they had first imagined. On another level, here was a coup Greenwood would find difficult to tolerate yet even harder to avenge. They could not really declare war on another elven realm; sylvans had no stomach for kin-slaying. Nevertheless, Thranduil's wrath was likely to make the Wraiths seem like friendly neighbours, and one and all realised fully where that fury would be directed: upon the loyal guard assigned to protect the virgin prince from harm. Every head dropped low, for they knew how utterly they had failed Legolas and their King.
"All right," Filigod's gaze passed from warrior to warrior and each nodded resolutely in turn; they were united in their misery and shame and would stop at nothing to undo the harm done to Legolas. Since that was impossible, Elrond must pay. "We are agreed. What do you propose, Faron?"
"Wait, shouldn't Tuiw have a say in this?" suggested Mallavorn. He blocked the anticipated kick with his hand and twisted the ellon's ankle sharply. His comrade boxed him on the cheek instead and Filigod went to separate Mallavorn from the others for a time.
"You are not to call him that again," intoned Faron, passing his eye over the guards once more. "None of us must ever call him that again. He is Ernilen, our Lord on this mission. Mayhap if we were wont to treat him with the respect that is his due, as an adult, he would not have been so eager to cast off innocence in a bid to prove his maturity." More lowered countenances and a groan or two answered his sharp rebuke and he softened. "But nay, I know he is headstrong and wilful like his Adar. Once Legolas has made up his mind, little can deter him. Save for the unpleasant reality, I might believe he seduced that ancient, disreputable ellon."
"Indeed, he must have found Elrond attractive or he would have simply crushed his balls and thrown him out of the room at the first hint of amorous liberties," said Mallavorn and this time his words were met with less hostility. Despite his elegant appearance, Legolas was a warrior few could best and possessed a temper few could survive.
"Fine, he is capable of deciding what he wants, when he wants it, and with whom he wants it. The fact remains, he would not have chosen Elrond of Imladris for his first. Had he known who it was, he would have curbed any desire he may have felt during their encounter, which came about under circumstances I still do not fully understand," Faron lectured. Support was immediate and enthusiastic.
"Agreed."
"What are we going to do about it?"
"Legolas must be avenged."
"Elrond must pay."
"Aye, but how far do we take it?"
"There must be no bloodshed," Faron warned, "for Legolas has chosen effacement rather than have any of us come under the retribution of the White Council."
"Then he does not want us to avenge him," whined Mallavorn. "Make up your mind, Faron."
"Fool! Legolas wants retribution but he is hampered by diplomacy. Until Celon'lir arrives, he is Greenwood and has to conduct himself with dignity and restraint. By his example of noble, aloof insouciance, he means to show the Noldor for the ragnâ, atata-nibê njadrî they are."
Mumbled agreement sounded through the wood as the warriors smiled grimly over this demonstration of the superiority of sylvan deportment and civility. Under the foment of their disgust over Elrond's ignominious conduct, the Wood Elves forgot that it was abandoning that sense of dignity and restraint that had landed Legolas in this predicament in the first place.
"So, what do you propose, Faron?" Filigod asked again. He watched an evil grin spread over the demi-prince's face and shuddered, wondering if he would survive the chaos about to unfold.
"This is a staid, stale realm, her people complacent in their assumption of peace and prosperity, mired in visions of Noldorin might and glory long past and completely outdated. They think they are exempt from any of the dangers assailing the rest of the world. I think it is our duty to teach them the error in holding too firmly to such vainglorious presumptions of superiority and safety. We should unleash the Trials upon them."
There was general agreement and a great deal of sinister laughter and smug rubbing together of hands, but one voice ventured a warning.
"But, Faron, they are immune to the dangers of the world at large. Elrond has that Ring of Power, you know," Mallavorn complained. Three warriors descended upon him and dumped him out of the tree, leaving him as the soldiers followed Faron to a new location, in accord with standard woodland defence strategy, to organise their plans.
Filigod helped the bruised warrior to his feet and they shared their mutual concern. "I only wanted to remind them what we're up against," whined Mallavorn. "That is the first rule of battle: do not underestimate or discount your enemy's strength."
"Agreed, mellon, but you know as well as I there is no stopping them now. They want their vengeance and they shall have it if it kills them," advised Filigod.
"Can't you so something? Perhaps if you went to Lord Elrond and explained what is about to happen he could prevent it."
Filigod turned on his companion in severe disapproval. "You want me to betray my prince and country?" he scolded. "For shame, Mallavorn! We have no choice but to stand beside our comrades no matter the outcome. Our honour demands it."
"Isn't this the same policy that got the sylvans massacred at Dagorlad?" Mallavorn whimpered.
Elrond gasped, seeing Legolas prone on the ground senseless, and ran to him, terrified that his worst fears had come to pass and he had reduced the ellon to grief and fading. He knelt and cautiously touched him, saw at once he was neither dying nor even unconscious and smiled in great relief as the blue eyes sharpened and focused upon him. The expression in them was wary but no fury blazed up. His heart leaped in hope; perhaps there was still time to straighten everything out and reveal his true name. "Legolas. I saw you lying here; I thought - -"
"Elrond," Legolas said quietly, the first time he had spoken that name aloud without its title in front of it and an undertone of scorn and disdain within it.
The mighty Lord inhaled audibly and he sat back on his heels, head lowered and eyes averted. "You know, then."
"Aye." Legolas observed him as he raised himself and crossed his legs beneath him, noting the dismayed and penitent posture, and his heart felt easier. He reached out and settled a tentative hand on the elder's knee. "And I guess you do, too." He smiled as the troubled visage lifted and rueful grey eyes probed his.
"Are you terribly angry? I didn't think very carefully about the ruse; the circumstances were not exactly amenable to deep and cautious considerations," he said and was pleased to see the young archer's smile brighten. He took the hand on his knee into his own and squeezed the long, elegant fingers.
"Nay, they were not," admitted Legolas. He looked to the hand holding his and something about that simple connection made his heart turn over. "How can I be angry when I did the same thing? We had similar reasons, I would wager."
Elrond chuckled. "Yes, assuredly. An elven Lord and a common archer are an unlikely pairing."
"Aye, and a Wood Elf prince would not often be coupled romantically with a common Noldorin healer," Legolas nodded, but his face grew serious. "Yet I revealed my name and would have told all. Why did you persist in the farce?" He waited pensively for the answer, for the next few words would either justify his rash decision to cast off chastity with a total stranger or mark his actions as a profound error.
"As I said," Elrond replied, forehead crinkled in confusion. "My position demands a certain level of dignity and it just would not be acceptable for me to engage in such a liaison with an unknown sylvan warrior. I did not know, you see, that you are Thranduil's son. If I had, I never would have gone through with it."
Legolas withdrew his hand. "I see," he said, unsettled by these words, for there was a bit of a contradiction here. He frowned; unable to deny that he would never have thought to approach this august and ancient Lord, much less share such a pivotal event with him, had he guessed who he was. "What do you think about it now?"
"Now?" Elrond faltered. What did he think about it? He thought it was a horrible mistake in spite of the pleasure they'd shared. Thranduil was sure to accuse him of taking advantage of Legolas no matter if the prince was willing or not. And he didn't have to wonder about the possible repercussions for Erestor had berated him with them all through breakfast. Even so, being close to Legolas now made those consequences seem superficial. Why could they not be lovers? Weren't they both of age and willing? Would it not be a more terrible mistake to deny themselves this experience all for the sake of prejudices no longer relevant, if they ever were at all? And yet, wasn't it unseemly for him, the de facto High King of the Noldor, to consort with the the minor prince of a backward people? "I don't know what to think," he admitted honestly.
"What do you mean?" Legolas demanded, cheeks stained with colour. "A simple sylvan archer you would never stoop to even address much less take as a lover. Are you saying a Prince of Greenwood is beneath you, too?"
Elrond's brows rose high, thinking the Prince of Greenwood had indeed been beneath him all night, but he wisely kept that quip to himself. "Legolas, I don't believe for a minute that you ever imagined I would be your first lover anymore than I did. Let us be honest. Our people have long been at odds with one another. Our private opinions of one another are probably not very flattering."
"Yes, I am well aware of that," Legolas fumed, beginning to burn with shame. Elrond had not replied to his question and that reticence formed an answer in itself. He had given himself to an arrogant elitist. "But you were my first and I have to know what you feel about that now."
"What good does it do to over-analyse it?" Elrond snapped, irritated. What did Legolas expect him to do, declare undying love? "Everyone has a first lover. Would you be asking all these questions about feelings if yours had been a sylvan archer instead of me?"
Legolas' eyes went wide and his face went white. "I would," he said bitterly. "I would want to know if it meant anything to him or if I was just another conquest, soon to be forgotten."
"Legolas," Elrond sighed, shaking his head. "I told you last night I will always treasure the gift you so generously gave, but you and I cannot really remain lovers now."
"Why not?" Legolas demanded, voice harsh. These were not the words he'd hoped to hear for they meant the water-bearer was right; Faron was right. "So, it is true. You are you ashamed to have a Wood Elf for a lover!"
"Ashamed? Of course not." Elrond grimaced; in truth, he would never have considered a Wood Elf for a lover at all but for Barahin's fateful decision to put one literally in his bed. Shame had nothing to do with it; they were simply too widely divergent in station. It would be almost as unthinkable as taking a dwarf to his bed. If Legolas couldn't see how it was he didn't know how to explain it. He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you. I had planned to keep you as long as you remained in Imladris, but under the circumstances I think that would be unwise."
"Keep me?" Legolas' eyes grew round as he digested this notion and began to comprehend. The blood rushed back to his face and he leaped to his feet. "Ai Arâmê! Keep me! As a courtesan, you mean!"
"What?" Elrond squeaked, flushing scarlet as he scrambled up to face the charge. Since it was true he was having difficulty doing so. "Nay, nay, not exactly that, Legolas, but I "
"That is what you thought!" Legolas thundered, going up on his toes so to shout right in Elrond's face. "Ai Valar, I cannot believe I permitted you to be the first! That blow to the head must have knocked my ability to reason clean out of it." He set to pacing in his agitation for he feared if he continued to look upon that astonished and guilty countenance any longer he would strike the ancient legend. "Tawar nin Beria! How could I be so blind?"
"Nay, Legolas, do not say that; I am trying to tell you if only you will listen! I would never have imagined keeping you as a catamite if I'd known who you were are! Of course your position precludes anything so crude, which is why I said we can't be lovers, you see. And I didn't reveal who I was am because I thought if you knew you would be scared off and I was so taken with you I couldn't chance that," Elrond was pacing right along with him, as close to wringing his hands as an Elven Lord can get, and truly thought this was a helpful bit of exposition to offer. Until Legolas rounded on him and began cursing in Nandorin, face crimson and eyes blazing as he reached for a dagger that thankfully was not there. That halted the tirade and a pointing finger came within a few centimetres of Elrond's nose.
"You despicable Peredhel!" Legolas bellowed. "I thought we shared something special, something beautiful and you! You just wanted a willing vessel to accommodate your lust! How convenient to find me there already in your bed! And what a triumph for you to take not only your pleasure but my innocence, too." The words were so bitter they hurt him to speak them and to hear them. He gave one harsh gasp as his eyes teared up, then clamped his lips tight, emitted a menacing snarl, and took flight like an arrow shot from a bow.
"No, Legolas! It was beautiful! I did not mean what you think!" Elrond called after him, but Legolas was already beyond sight.
Up a tree, no doubt, and I'll never find him.
He stood, hands on hips, angry and sorrowful at the same time. Really, they couldn't be lovers. Legolas had to understand the impossibility of such a course. His father would never approve and life would become unbearable for them both. Thranduil might bring charges against him and force a public hearing before the White Council. The image of Galadriel and Celeborn's mortified disgust made him groan aloud.
To say nothing of what my children would say.
Arwen would stop speaking to him altogether, for she had moved away from the valley the last time he took a lover, damning him for supplanting her mother. Even after he ended it and the lady left for the Havens she refused to come home. His sons were mildly less intolerant and only condemned his lack of discretion about the affair. What they would make of a relationship with Legolas, Mirkwood's youngest prince, younger than Arwen, young enough to be Arwen's grandchild, he hastily refused to let his mind imagine. He returned to the House of Healing to check on his patient, determined to put the prince out of his mind at least until the morrow.
The girl's mother was glad to see him and thanked him profusely, made him sit and fussed over him, calling for the assistant hovering near to order food and drink for the Lord. He nibbled a bite or two to appease her. Laer slept deeply, safely bundled in healing spells and clean white bandages. She was rebounding with amazing speed for a human and Elrond was nothing less than delighted. Mere hours after the surgery and the fever was gone. At least his worries over the Wood Elf had not affected his skill. The thought arrived unbidden and astonished him.
Legolas! How did I get into such a predicament?
He stood abruptly and left the child, ambling down the row of beds checking on his patients, asking for updates and barely acknowledging the responses, disturbed that now every facet of his life was coloured by the interlude with the forest prince. Never would he have imagined that a single night of passion could lead to such complications. He had not taken a lover for centuries and had not really felt deprived in his abstinence. He was surrounded by elves of every kind, all beautiful and many of noble blood, but none had stirred him as the fair son of Thranduil and he could not account for it. Why had he succumbed now?
He knew, though, and could not pretend he didn't. He had wanted to be the warrior's first, had wanted bragging rights and the envy of his kinsman and friends. He had wanted a lover distinctly beneath him in class and station who would not even think to demand anything more of him than the pleasure they shared, who would count it an honour to be his kept pet, would worship him. That was not a very flattering picture of himself and Elrond cringed.
One of his healers gave him a questioning look and he scowled fiercely to forestall the offer to be of aid, turned aside, walked quickly out to the veranda. There he leaned against the railing with a heavy sigh, watched the stars come out and Ithil set. The patients and their kin fell into slumber and the ward grew quiet, the understated song of healing filling the place, seeping out and enveloping him. He sighed a second time, suddenly overwhelmed with an anxious depression of spirit and mind. Clouds began gathering as the night deepened and the distant rumble of thunder preceded a burst of bright light. An hour later, a pale and misty rain began to fall.
Where is he now? I should have gone after him.
Elrond wondered if Legolas had returned to the barracks, gathered his troops, and departed. A burst of dread made his breath falter, but he recovered instantly. He would have heard if the Wood Elves were gone from the valley. What were they plotting, then? They must be plotting something for Legolas was furious. No doubt he was holding a war council in his room even now. At once Elrond flushed with shame. In a spiteful mood, he had housed the son of a the woodland King in the sparse efficiency of the officers' quarters. This fact would not be lost upon the young archer and could only deepen his resentment.
I behaved childishly. It would have been better to treat them as the sons of the Valar rather than sons of a rogue Sindarin tyrant.
Still, he knew the reason the Wood Elves had come here was not exactly a mission of goodwill. That was the crux of it; he'd wanted to get in the first dig by housing the princes like any common soldiers, denying them the courtesy their rank deserved. He turned and stared through the open archway toward the humble infirmary office and another pang assailed him. That was no fit place to be bedded for the first time. His initiation into sexual intimacy, beyond awkward, groping explorations with his twin, had been a wondrous experience, the Lady in question a High-born Noldor widowed in the first kin-slaying, voluptuously beautiful and genuinely good.
She had selected Elrond and Elros when they was still just striplings fostered in the house of Maedhros and made no secret that she had gained permission from their austere mentor to be their teacher in this vital subject. They went to her house for tea once a week and were entertained like princes, but chastely. She treated them to delightfully suggestive repartee that made them aroused, but she never touched them, not even in a friendly way. She lavished them with gifts of clothing and jewels and made it clear she would take no other lovers until the day they came of age. He and his brother had felt a delicious combination of pride and terror. The anticipation was unbearable in the best of ways. When the day came, he and Elros left the celebration in her carriage and stayed in her boudoir for three days. She taught them everything, including what to do with one another, and when they left her they were confident of their newly acquired skills and yet not boastful.
Elrond found he was not only smiling but mildly aroused as he recalled that night. Then his happy reminiscence faded; what would Legolas remember about his first coupling? He exhaled another ponderous sough; if only he had known who the naked youth was, everything would have been different. He wouldn't have so much as spoken to him much less touched him, and suddenly he realised what a crime that would have been. In spite of the complications looming, Elrond could not regret the night and knew he would relive it with sweet nostalgia for the rest of his days. He had not known such a fulfilling and thrilling experience since the affair with Gil-galad. Even his union with Celebrian had lacked the fiery passion he'd felt thrusting into Legolas' lithe and supple body, feeling the tremors racing through him, watching as orgasm overtook him and the archer wept for joy, never even realising it. Elrond groaned; now completely erect and impossibly hard, he shifted in discomfort.
Elbereth! I want him!
TBC
© 03/03/2012 Ellen Robey
Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
Elvish names and such:
Celon'lîr (River Song - Thranduil's eldest)
Ûrrusc (Fire Fox - Thranduil's nephew)
Tuiw. (Sprout - a pet name for Legolas)
Faron (Hunter - also Thranduil's nephew)
Mallavorn (Black and Gold - one of the warriors)
Filigod (Little Bird - Thranduil's councillor)
Condir O Gladgalen (Mayor of Greenwood - Filigod's Official Title)
Giliach (Star Crossing - Cel's false identity while in Lorien)
Tôradar (brother-father: uncle)
Hîren Adar (My Lord Father)
Hîr Adar mín (our Lord Father)
Ernil (Prince)
Ernil Vain, (Pre-eminent Prince)
Ernil Daid (Secondary Prince)
ion-an'weath (son-by-bond - son-in-law)
aurlinn (day-bird, a wood thrush)
Minya'mmë (grandmother)
thêl dithen. (little sister)
muindor laes, (baby brother)
nâr (rat)
muindoren (my brother - often used between close kindred like cousins)
Gondaran (Stone-lord - an Imladrian page)
Peredhel fuiad (Half-elven Scum)
ragnâ, atata-nibê njadrî (crooked, two-faced rats)
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