CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"It will be an early spring," Elrond observed, pacing beside Mithrandir in the garden behind the main house and gazing over the fields to see his beloved animals grazing in peace. "The horses are already shedding out their winter coats."

"How wonderful that your elven vision can see that at this distance." The wizard puffed contentedly on his pipe. "How wonderful as well that Legolas has not made himself scarce since your sons and I returned from Lothlorien, and I've actually been able to see him. Where is he now, out practicing with Elrohir?"

"I believe he is within my library, reading. And I must caution you to remember to call him Lasgalen."

"Lasgalen it shall be." Grey eyes narrowed up at the Elf-lord. "So you've not yet told your people who he really is?"

"No."

"I thought this little deception was for the benefit of the horses, who are all very well this day. Why, therefore, does it continue?"

Elrond considered his answer for a moment. "He does not feel comfortable with having all of Rivendell know his identity just yet."

"And he remains indoors examining musty old tomes rather than running free with your sons?" Mithrandir chuckled. "It would seem that you have succeeded where Thranduil could not."

"How is that?"

"You're taming him, Elrond. Making him more like you."

Elrond snorted. "Hardly. He has become interested in his family history, and I have tamed him not at all; he goes where he will and does what he wishes."

Mithrandir nodded in apparent acceptance of the explanation, but the laughter in his eyes gave Elrond the feeling that he was merely being humored. To himself, Elrond admitted to a certain bewilderment that Legolas was not out with his sons, or out anywhere that did not include the Elf-lord. Legolas was indeed inside the library and reading of his forebears, but that had happened only after the young prince from Mirkwood had grown bored with feigning interest in the endless parade of meetings in Elrond's library, another activity that had baffled the Elf-lord.

[I must remain inside with dusty old elves and dusty old tomes, but Legolas must not.] That the younger elf did was as much a mystery to Elrond as it was to Mithrandir, though the wizard seemed more entertained than curious. That was annoying as well.

"Have you noticed?" went the house gossip, "Lasgalen of Mirkwood scarcely leaves Elrond's side."

For once, the gossip was right. For two weeks after the capture of the men responsible for the stable fire and before Mithrandir's return, Elrond and Legolas's days had fallen into an easy pattern. Rather than returning to his tree against the back cliff or seeking solitude with the horses, Legolas had made a point of remaining close to Elrond. Joining Glorfindel and Elrond at breakfast, he also made an effort to join in their debates - at least over matters involving the horses - and he remained to listen when discussions had ranged beyond. After breakfast, when Elrond had assumed Legolas would prefer to accompany Glorfindel to the stables, the younger elf had stayed with his lord. Yet another mystery.

"Are you sure you would not rather be with the horses? Or out with my sons and preparing for your journey to Dol Guldur?" Elrond had asked only that morning as Legolas settled opposite Elrond's desk with his latest book.

"It will only take a few moments for us all to gather supplies for the journey, and there will be time enough on the road to prepare Glorfindel for Dol Guldur." Hesitating, Legolas added softly, "Our time together grows short, and I would rather spend it with you."

Shaking himself mentally from his musings, Elrond laid a hand on Mithrandir's shoulder. "Council begins soon. We should head inside."

"Will Lasgalen's voice be heard again today?" Mithrandir asked.

"Only if the prince of Mirkwood is mentioned. Lasgalen may be quiet by nature, but when he speaks it is memorable."

"Those musty old advisors of yours are far too settled in outdated opinions, Elrond. They need a good shaking up. Lasgalen will do them good."

This time it was Elrond who smiled. "I doubt any of my advisors would agree with you, but I do. I've no idea if Leg… if Lasgalen will join us, but I certainly hope he does."

Leading the way to the library, Elrond crossed the inlaid wood floor and climbed the stairs before glancing across the library proper. Candles burned in their sconces, illuminating the gloomy interior, and the Elf-lord's eye was caught by the bright light of Legolas's golden hair where he sat within, still engrossed in his book. Giving a slight smile to have located his elf, Elrond settled into his chair and smoothed his robes.

"Istian," he addressed the dour elf seated opposite him. "Will you begin?"

Istian would and did. It seemed half an age later when the meeting finally adjoined, long after certain parts of Elrond's anatomy had grown numb. Rising with a groan, Mithrandir leaned on his staff and popped his back. Grimacing, he followed Elrond down the steps and into the library.

"Do my aches deceive me, or did the particular boredom we just survived last much longer than usual?"

"It did," Elrond agreed. "Everyone seems to be determined to regain their status as a contributing member of the council after Lasgalen made them look so foolish not many—"

The elf-lord and wizard whirled as a book was slammed hard against a wooden table. Leaping to his feet, Legolas cast a look of disgust at the book he'd just abused and stalked out of the library.

"And he's away," Mithrandir muttered, staring at the open archway through which Legolas had disappeared. "What was he reading?"

Pacing across the floor to the reading table Legolas had just vacated, Elrond opened the book and leafed through the first few pages. "It would appear that he was reading an account of the Battle of Dagorlad. Specifically of Lord Oropher -- Sindarin Lord of the Silvan elves and sire of Thranduil Orophilion, King of Mirkwood."

Oropher was also the grand-sire of Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood. Elrond had been present at the Battle of Dagorlad, which had occurred not all that long before Legolas had been born.

Gil-Galad and his armies had prepared and marched forth from Imladris with Elrond at his side. Oropher and Thranduil had joined the Last Alliance of Elves and Men on the slopes of Mount Doom, and it was there that Oropher had been slain along with two-thirds of his army. A bitter Thranduil had survived and returned to Greenwood the Great to solidify his rule of the woodland kingdom and father two sons--the youngest of which was even now betrothed to the Lord of Imladris.

"Refresh my memory, Elrond. Which battle was Dagorlad?"

"The armies of Elves and Men fought on the wide plain before the Gates of Mordor, and many were lost in the marshes bordering the battlefield to the west," Elrond relayed. "Sauron fled back to Barad-dur, and we conducted a bitter siege there of seven years. The Dark Lord was finally defeated, and so it was that the Second Age ended shortly before Lasgalen was born." Gently closing the book, Elrond smoothed the cracked spine with a tenderness usually reserved for living patients. "He could have been kinder to the book."

"His grand-sire and other Mirkwood relations fought in that battle, did they not? Came to a brutal end of their leader's own making. Perhaps Lasgalen has never heard the tale before," Mithrandir murmured.

"Thranduil managed to survive, but Dagorlad devastated him. I doubt it’s a story told often in Mirkwood."

Settling into a nearby chair, Mithrandir retrieved his unlit pipe. "Given Thranduil's heartbreaks and ego, he'd hardly find reason to speak of it." Hidden pockets in the rough robes were patted in search of a small pouch of Shire weed. Without looking up from his taske of preparing to light the pipe, the wizard added casually, "You'll be off then to smooth your elfling's ruffling feathers?"

"Lasgalen is hardly an elfling, nor is he feathered."

"But he is yours." The wizard's gray eyes twinkled. "First by political machination and now, amazing as it might appear, by choice it would seem."

Elrond glared at him, but Mithrandir smiled and waved him off. "Be gone with you, my friend. I'll still be here when you return and you'll know where to find me, which is more than Lasgalen is promising given the headstart he has and the many acres in and out of Imladris."

Elrond gave a half-smile. "I believe I know where to find him."

* * *

The Elf-lord found Legolas where he thought he would: in the same giant old oak they had shared only a snowy fortnight past. The younger elf had perched on a lower branch this afternoon; one with much headroom between it and the next one and ideal for the activity he had chosen, which was to split arrow after arrow into a distant target.

Approaching softly behind Legolas, Elrond narrowly missed having his nose scraped by the next arrow that was ripped out of its quiver, smoothly nocked, and released. It struck a near tree with a violence that was unnecessary given the slight distance to the target, but it was still effective: the arrow that had preceded it shattered with a most satisfying, brittle crunch.

Coming up on Legolas's bow arm, Elrond made sure he was well away from the pointed end of the next arrow before leaning against Legolas's perch and watching for a few minutes.

"Do you never miss?" he finally asked.

Thwang-CRUNCH!

"Not often." The answer came through gritted teeth. Another arrow sang. Another died.

"That's a fair bit of work you're destroying. Have you arrows to spare then?"

Legolas spared him an icy glance before slowly, deliberately drawing another arrow from the dwindling number left in his quiver. "I've enough. And I can make more."

The younger elf's voice was quiet, cold and angry. Deeply, bitterly angry, Elrond realized.

Daring to stroke a hand down Legolas's gleaming blonde head - regardless the gesture was totally ignored - Elrond asked, "Had you not heard of the battle on the slopes of Mount Doom?"

Thwang-CRUNCH! "I'd heard."

Legolas's body vibrated beneath Elrond's hand. Given the younger's elf's obvious fury, it seemed a miracle that he was tolerating the Elf-lord's touch at all.

"What I was told during my schooling," Legolas continued, "is a slightly different version than the one in your tome. My fath...Mirkwood's king seems to favor his own version of the truth in more than just his correspondence with you regarding me."

Laying his bow across his lap, Legolas drew a deep, ragged breath and looked across at Elrond who stood at a level with his shoulder. "I had heard that many from Mirkwood died that day. What I did not know until now is how inept a leader my grand-sire was during battle. It seems to me that Oropher is as much responsible as Sauron for his own death, not to mention the death of the Elves who trusted him to lead them into battle."

Anger fairly crackled from the lithe form. Leaping down from the branch, Legolas slung his bow across his shoulder and stalked into the surrounding forest. The snow crunched beneath his feet.

[So much for the silent passing of Elves,] Elrond pondered. Falling into step beside the younger elf, he follwed where Legolas willed. A few minutes later, it became obvious that movement rather than destination was what Legolas had in mind as they crossed and recrossed their path in the snow.

"Many lives were lost that day," Elrond began quietly when Legolas's stride showed some small chance of slowing. "Men as as well as elves from all the realms."

"You lost more because of my grand-sire!" Legolas snarled, sparing a hard glower at the tall Elf-lord pacing so calmly beside him. "You were there, as was Thranduil. I know now how easily the King of Mirkwood twists facts and betrays his people to suit his purposes. And so it is that I trust your memory much more than I trust his tales. I need to hear the truth, Elrond, which is apparently seldom found in Mirkwood. I need to know what the rest of Middle-earth knows, not just Thranduil's pretty fables."

"Just this morning, you read multiple accounts from Elves who were there."

"I want you to tell me," Legolas snarled. "I want to know what you saw and what you remember. Through your words, I want to see and feel what happened." Stopping on the path, Legolas drew a deep breath before looking up and meeting Elrond's eyes. "Will you please tell me, my lord, with honesty and candor, what actually happened at Dagorlad?"

Startled at Legolas's insistence, Elrond nodded in agreement and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It is a long and sorrowful tale, Legolas. Are you sure you wish to start this now?"

"We do not leave for Dol Goldur until tomorrow. I believe I have time to hear your words."

"As you wish, my prince." Leaning against a tree, Elrond cast his mind back a thousand years. "Your grand-sire claimed Greenwood the Great in the name of your father before the building of Barad-Dur and Sauron's rise at Dol Guldur. Greenwood's realm extended into the woods surrounding the Lonely Mountain then, and its people were kin and neighbors to those dwelling in Lothlorien."

"What of you here in Imladris?" Legolas asked, standing before Elrond and holding his gaze.

"Imladris did not yet exist; I served Gil-Galad in Lindon then. When Galadriel and Celeborn settled in Lothlorian, Oropher and your father resented their 'intrusion' and broke off connections. Still, Greenwood's people traveled and traded with those in Lorian. Imladris was founded after the fall of Eregion; your people visited here as well and were made welcome."

Pushing away from the tree, Elrond wandered through the forest with Legolas falling into step beside him. "Oropher knew that peace in Middle-earth was impossible unless Sauron was destroyed," the Elf-lord continued. "No race could do this alone, and so when Gil-Galad and Elendil called the Last Alliance, your sires assembled a great army in Greenwood and Oropher led them to battle."

Elrond's voice softened as he continued the tale. "Though courageous and strong, Greenwood's Silvan host was ill-equipped compared to others among us. We could have compensated for this, but Oropher was obstinate and unwilling to place himself under Gil-galad's sovereign command. So it was that he did not wait for Gil-galad to signal the advance at Dagorlad. Your grand-sire rushed forward and was cut off from the main host. Driven into the Dead Marshes to the west of the battle-field, he, your older brother, and most of Greenwood's army was slain by Sauron's men."

Legolas stared up at Elrond and nodded understanding. Snowflakes began to fall, peppering his hair only to melt and stain his leather tunic. "I am sure that no other outcome was possible that day. Unlike my sire, I see where lies the true responsibility for the slaughter of the Greenwood elves."

"There would have been heavy losses regardless who led the armies," Elrond cautioned. "The slaughter was terrible, and I cannot assure you that the numbers would have been far different had Orophir completely handed his command over to me."

"Perhaps not, but I more fully understand the reasons for the animosity between our houses. Oropher's arrogance and impatience lives on in Thranduil. Now I see how willing Mirkwood's king is to deny truth in deference to his ego."

"In deference to his anguish as well, no doubt."

"No matter the motivation, you must agree that lying is wrong." Blue eyes lifted from the trampled snow beneath their feet to meet Elrond's. "I offer apology and sympathy to you in Thranduil's place."

"You have my gratitude for that." Elrond laid a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "My accounts of the battle angered you, then?"

"Senseless death angers me," said Legolas. "Untruths anger me, and there has been much of both in this tale." Scuffing his foot in the snow, the elf added, "I must also admit to a certain amount of fear."

"Fear?" Elrond arched an eyebrow. "What is it you fear?"

"That our going to Dol Guldur will be for naught. That my father will reject your counsel as Oropher once rejected Gil-galad's. That another Alliance will need to be forged in some not-too-distant day, and my father will not admit it until it is too late for everyone in Mirkwood and all races in Middle-earth. Given what I have learned of the Dark Lord's stronghold and of my father in recent weeks, I'm certain this must come to pass. I fear that the new battles will fall to you and Lord Celeborn, without Mirkwood's deficient assistance this time."

"You believe Sauron is not defeated?" Elrond asked softly.

"I know that he is not, for I have been inside Dol Guldur and have seen what evil stirs. Sauron watches and waits like a fat black spider until the time ripens for his return. I fear Sauron, yes. But I also fear that for all of Thranduil's pretty words on parchment and his giving me to you, he will never share your dream of a united Eldar, much less another alliance with Men. He is too selfish, too prideful to admit that we are all of us connected and must unite if our world is to be made safe."

"It has ever been thus, Legolas," Elrond said mildly, caressing Legolas's shoulder with his thumb in hope of soothing him somewhat. "All we can do is continue our efforts and offer your father the best alliance we can. He may yet be convinced to set aside his prejudices against Galadriel and me for the good of all."

Tightening his jaw, Legolas offered a sceptical shrug and looked away to stare into the swirl of snowflakes. "He will do so only if the good of Thranduil comes first. Or perhaps that of his his people. I dare hope it is so."

"Tell me how is it that you do not share his prejudices?"

"I was left to grow up beyond our fortress walls," said Legolas, "with minders who did not object to my running with any warrior as long as he was capable and not likely to leave me to the spiders. Mirkwood also welcomed the Rangers and I have run with them as well – not that my minders or I have ever told my father that," he added with a hint of a smile. "My Mirkwood teachers caught and taught me as they could. A few of our archers and strongest warriors also ran with us when I was younger. All taught me diligently. I thought it proved their dedication to my education, but I wonder now if it wasn't eagerness to get out of Thranduil's court."

"So you avoided court?" Elrond ventured.

"As much as possible. Thranduil focused his attention upon my elder brother - the heir to Mirkwood - while I was the spare and blissfully ignored for the most part." Legolas smiled at the thought, offering Elrond a glimpse of a dimple.

"Glorfindel and I have both wondered how it is that you grew to be so unlike Thranduil."

Legolas's smile was grim. "I am told that I have much in common with my mother. It is said that she could not long bear to stay with Thranduil after her first son died at Mount Doom. My father's grief made him a bit difficult at times, and with her own grief so great she had not the strength cope with it. Thranduil gave her a third child - me - hoping to distract and help heal her, but she faded only a few months after my birth."

"How did Thranduil fare then, looking on you?" Elrond asked.

"She was dying before I was even conceived, and so the blame was never mine to bear. But Thranduil feels that I failed in that first task set for me, as my mother could not love me enough to stay. It was her whom he wished alive and not me, so that after her death he had no need for me nor desire to have me underfoot. I was much ignored and left alone to make up my own mind about things, so long as I didn't cause any great disturbances."

"As your brother was not," Elrond concluded.

"My brother has always been kept close to Thranduil's side and carefully schooled in his ways. He is to be the next ruler of Mirkwood should something befall Thranduil, and I have no doubt that he will carry on in the standards of both Thranduil and Orophir. Though he is not as strong, I think," Legolas added after a moment's thought.

"And so," Elrond concluded, "the past is done, and none of us can undo it. All of us, even your father, gather the broken threads of life and weave them into whatever future we can."

Pushing away from the tree, Elrond slid a companionable arm across Legolas's shoulders, which seemed somewhat less tense. "I believe the twins should have returned from their patrols by now. Would you care to join them and Mithrandir at mid-day meal?"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Legolas knew that in life the solution to one problem was inevitably followed by the presntation of yet another problem. So it was no great surprise for him to find that as he and Elrond seemed to achieve a new level of affection and understanding in their relationship, Legolas began having problems in his relationships with a few other Elves dwelling in Imladris.

Not with relationships precisely, Legolas reflected, but more of a problem with certain members of Elrond's court who were always bored and ever watchful of any new mischief they might begin. Unfortunately, their attention had currently focused on becoming more friendly with Lasgalen, the mysterious scout from Mirkwood, who had not only saved the lord's horses but dared argue openly with Elrond before all the host of the stable.

Not only had this strange elf challenged the Lord of Rivendell, he had survived for them to tell the tale, and Lord Elrond actually seemed to favor him afterwards. It was all quite the mystery and delightfully intriguing. And so it was that every move made by the strange Mirkwood elf was observed, cataloged, and discussed with great enjoyment by many in Rivendell.

Legolas had never been comfortable at court - any court - which was why he'd frequented Mirkwood's own but a handful of times in his entire life. While he might have enjoyed dancing with the right partner - had he ever been allowed the freedom to find the right partner - he would never be comfortable with what others saw as playful banter or casual flirting. It was a strange game with rules he did not understand and meanings difficult for him to decipher, and he viewed it all with grave suspicion as to motives of those involved.

[I have better things to do,] he also thought of that past-time, knowing that to have voiced the thought aloud would have sounded more than a little arrogant. It also would have startled and hurt those he worked so hard to protect in Mirkwood. And so he did his best to leave them to their games and find matters to occupy him elsewhere. In Mirkwood, that was not difficult, but Rivendell was proving to be another matter altogether.

Legolas was no longer allowed to protect anyone in Mirkwood, and while Elrond would not have objected to Legolas protecting the citizens of Imladris, the younger elf did not think it a good time to run the wilds of his new home. Instinct told him to stay close to the Elven lord instead.

"Elrond fears losing me to the darkness within Dol Guldur," Legolas acknowledged privately to Glorfindel after the older Elf had inquired as to why Legolas was spending so much time within the sanctuary of Elrond's library when there were the twins to trounce. "Even if I believe my lord's fears unfounded, I must still respect them. I cannot forego this journey, and therefore I cause him distress. But I can try to ease what little I might, and so I would not leave his side until I must."

Unfortunately, staying close to Elrond meant accompanying him to dinner in the Great Hall each evening and remaining after the meal to witness courtly activities like dancing and singing. It also meant enduring and trying to subtly discourage special attention from certain female elves who weren't hindered by Elrond's gentle attachment to him.

"And why should they be?" Glorfindel had laughed when an agitated and irritable Legolas sought him out for counsel after no less than five elven maidens - FIVE! – had made it clear that they expected Legolas to pay court in the form of dancing with them that evening.

"Elrond is betrothed to Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood," Glorfindel had pointed out with an annoyingly cheerful grin. "No formal claim has been staked upon Lasgalen, scout from that woodland realm. You are therefore free for all of the residents of Imladris to try to win your favors."

Grinning, Glorfindel had mockingly wound a long strand of Legolas's hair about his finger. "All they want is a dance, Lasgalen. I hardly think your virginity or theirs is in jeopardy."

"So what are you telling me to do?" Legolas had growled, slapping at the intruding hand and pulling away to scratch his scalp.

"Relax and enjoy the attention." The Elf-lord winked before walking away. "I would."

Unable to resist the temptation, Legolas mimed firing an arrow into Glorfindel's insufferably confident, retreating back. Satisfying though the gesture might have been, it didn't help the situation at all. Minutes later, on the way back to the table he was sharing with Elrond and Glorfindel, Legolas was cornered by one of Arwen's friends. Giggling, she grabbed the reluctant elf's hand and hauled him into the ongoing ringdance. Short of using his archer's strength to wrench free of her suprisingly strong yet dainty fingers, there was nothing to be done but submit.

A bemused Elrond watched from the head table, chin in hand as a very stiff Legolas grudgingly fell into step. "He seems strangely reluctant to participate in the festivities."

"Indeed," Glorfindel said somberly, sinking down into his own chair with a new pitcher of wine and deciding not to confide Legolas's frantic conversation with him only minutes before. "More wine?"

"Thank you, no." Elrond waved away the offer without taking his eyes off of the bright elf who was winding his sour way across the floor.

For a long moment, Glorfindel watched Elrond watching Legolas. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"He is that. Though I think I'd choose another word to describe him."

Glorfindel laughed and shook his head. "Not Lasgalen, Elrond. Her. I said her."

Elrond favored him with a scowl. "Who?"

"Legolas's partner."

"Oh. Her. I hadn't noticed."

[Was that a growl?] Glorfindel waited another few minutes before intruding again. "He intrigues you then?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he has shattered every expectation I had of Thranduil's son." Elrond slouched down into his chair, still without taking his eyes from the gracefully resistant Legolas. "He doesn't act like a prince, and he requires no special treatment except to be treated fairly. In fact, he will go out of his way to evade any special recognition. He is quiet, undemanding, and watches everything around him. He tries to understand everything as well, including me, and I think you'll admit that's no small task?"

"Definitely not something to be undertaken lightly," said Glorfindel. "Perhaps Lasgalen simply didn't understand the magnitude of the tast when he started it."

Elrond spared him a glare, then returned to ticking off elements that he'd discovered about his new companion. "Regardless his youth, Lasgalen is a fighter to equal my sons, and he hates participating here." Elrond's wave encompassed the Great Hall. "He's also very much a loner and seems much older than his few years, something that I find disturbing and almost sad in a way, as though his very youth has somehow been stolen away. I've never met anyone like him and so yes, he intrigues me. Do you see something wrong with that?"

"No, nothing. I think it's lovely." Glorfindel hid a smirk behind his goblet of wine, which he then raised to salute the couple whirling past. "His new friend thinks he's lovely as well, and seems to be trying to make that clear. Just look where she's maneuvered his hands."

Elrond narrowed his eyes at the dance floor where Legolas was all but carrying his dance partner, so closely was she wrapped against his chest. Legolas cast a particularly uncomfortable, desperate glance his way as they whirled past, and Elrond rose to his feet. "Excuse me please, Lord Glorfindel."

"LORD Glorfindel? You've not called me that in an age. What is wrong with you tonight?" He didn't expect an answer and it was a good thing, for Elrond gave no indication of having heard him.

Gathering his robes, the lord of Imladris moved smoothly down the side of the room and up behind the elven maiden who had now draped herself across Legolas to the point that he was required to put his hands in questionable places if only to keep her propped on her feet. By now, any other elf would known her as a willing partner and whispered an invitation into her delicate ear for her to join him in the gardens.

Legolas was not any other elf. He not only seemed oblivious to what the next step in this intimate dance should be, but appeared highly annoyed by his dance partner's efforts. Elrond was well-pleased with that assessment. He also had the impression that were he not to interfere and quickly, Legolas's solution to the problem in his arms would be to let go the she-elf so that she collapsed to the floor in an undignified heap while the scout from Mirkwood made his escape into the surrounding dancers and beyond.

[He doesn't play games well, does he?] Elrond reflected, not at all upset by the realization.

Sliding a hand beneath Legolas's to cup the she-elf's elbow, Elrond met Legolas's gaze before bodily lifting his partner away from him. Leaning down, Elrond rumbled into her ear. "My apologies, lady, but I have a prior claim on this one."

Stiffening, she whirled to snap at the elf who was spoiling her carefully crafted plans. "And who are you to lay claim to--oh!

The affronted feminine presentation dissolved as the elf's eyes widened in surprise. She shrank back, embarrassed to realize who the intruder was.

"I... I'm so sorry, Lord Elrond -- Lasgalen," came the stammered apology, along with a very strange look at both elves. "I had no idea…nobody said anything about…and with the Prince…and…Oh, excuse me!" she mannaged to stammer, her cheeks growing red. Gathering her skirts, she offered an abbreviated curtsey before fleeing through the crowd and not looking back.

The room had stilled during this brief encounter with the musicians falling silent the dancers stilled. All too aware of the eyes and ears of the curious surrounding them, Elrond murmured, "Come, Lasgalen."

Nodding to the silent musicians to continue, he led the way from the midst of the dancers.

Legolas needed no further encouragement to follow the elf-lord from the middle of the room and over to the large stone fireplace which afforded some shadow and privacy. The dance continued and Legolas stood beside Elrond, relief all too obvious in the blue eyes glimmering at him in the firelight.

"Thank you," came the heartfelt words, low and intense.

Elrond offered a crooked smile. "Don't thank me quite yet, as I undoubtedly phrased things badly and have given her the wrong idea. Or the right one, depending on your point of view. Either way, word of my claiming you will spread quickly tonight. I dare say the gossip will create its own problems, but you won't be troubled again." He paused, then offered a small smile. "At least not by our ladies. My news may, however, cheer some of the males."

"I knew of no polite way to reject her advances," Legolas protested. "She was rather persistent, and conversing with her was like dancing on raindrops."

"Not a comfortable position at all to be in. I think you managed quite well, considering how determined she seems to have been to have you for her own tonight, whether you wished it or not. That one is quite good at getting what she wants," he added in confidential tones. Glancing back at the dance floor, the Elf-lord confessed, "To solidify my claim, we should have danced, but I doubt you're ready for that."

"I am tonight," Legolas growled.

"Not for this particular dance."

"Why not?" he protested. "I'd rather dance with you than with her or the ones lined up behind her. That dance was…She wanted me to put my hands…in inappropriate places," he finished unhappily. "She wanted to touch me as well. How could dancing with you be worse than that?"

"Because this particular dance ends in a traditional kiss," said Elrond, "and I don't think you're quite ready to kiss me in public."

Sudden silence met that announcement. After a time, Legolas remarked, "I don't think I care much for this dance."

"I can see where you would not. It is a dance for lovers and those who wish to be. As we are not part of either category, it is a dance we had both best sit out. Not to worry, we'll make certain you are not trapped again. One way or another, I will make certain you are safe from whatever displeases you here."

Legolas nodded briefly. "I thank you for both the rescue and your thoughfulness."

Affection and trust reflected in the blue eyes holding his own – a simple and so important gift that the Elf-lord stared back.

"I take it my plans meet with your approval?" Elrond asked.

Legolas's eyes crinkled at the corners and he laughed softly - a low, almost seductive sound that had Elrond staring down at him in disbelief as the change in the younger elf was remarkable. Gone was the solemn, oh-so-serious and formal elf he'd known until this moment. In his place Elrond glimpsed a complex, occasionally mischievous creature with much warmth, affection and loyalty, one who might actually be ready to claim Elrond as a friend.

"You do realize that my rescue extends only to the ladies of the court?" Elrond cautioned. "You will now be considered a delightful trophy for any male who might find you attractive."

Legolas gave the matter a moment's serious consideration, the smile fading from his eyes. Heaving a sigh, he nodded decisively. "I think I may be ready for you to tell everyone who I really am. Quickly, I think."

"Before you change your mind? Lose your nerve?"

Legolas nodded.

Stepping closer to deliberately invade Legolas's space, Elrond was gratified to see that the younger elf's only reaction was to drop back his head, the better to look up at Elrond.

"You realize that I must tell them also we are promised to bond? We needn't do this if you do not wish it."

"I wish it. This night and right now, for to continue the charade will only cause further difficulties for everyone. I will not allow your reputation to suffer because of my fears, and your announcement will destroy any speculation that the Lord of Rivendell has suddenly developed a taste for any and all males from Mirkwood."

The blue eyes were steady as they held his. Elrond could sense no misguided feelings of self-sacrifice; the elf standing so close before him radiated only a calm confidence and no little affection. Reaching out, he touched Legolas's hand – the one bearing Elrond's own seal. When Legolas didn't withdraw, Elrond carefully entwined their fingers, feeling the archer's callouses slide across his skin. Legolas remained beside him, watching him expectantly.

"So it will be," Elrond whispered. "Tonight."

With Legolas's hand in his, Elrond made his way back to the table where Glorfindel remained slouched in his chair, watching the room and having missed nothing. He had been joined by Elrond's sons and Mithrandir as well; the three had come late to the hall and were only just finishing their supper.

"All is made ready for our departure tonight," Mithrandir informed Legolas with a gentle smile and a nod.

"That is well." The elf moved on with Elrond who set his chair aside, so that he and Legolas might stand before the crowd.

"I'm not sure who's glowering the harder," Glorfindel ventured. "Those who want you, or those who want Elrond."

"They are all going to have to stop glowering and start smiling, even if they must pretend their happiness for us," Elrond pronounced as his sons exchanged looks of dread with Mithrandir, who was looking almost as amused as Glorfindel.

"Oh?" Glorfindel straighened in his seat, his interest peaked by Elrond's intensity. "Is something happening, then? Something you might share with Mithrandir and me?"

"Patience, elfling."

"Elfling!"

"You've behaving as one, aren't you? The tale will be told to everyone in a few moments." Raising his voice, Elrond addressed the crowded hall. "Attend me, if you will?"

The music died, the dance halted. Eager faces turned toward the Lord Rivendell. The twins frowned and Glorfindel grinned, sensing what was coming. Legolas watched the servant elf Aniviel – his acquaintance from the bath - finish refilling Elrond's empty goblet, hurrying to complete her task before her ruler began speaking over her head.

Remembering her complaints about having to clean up after the horses, and her having kicked his last clean clothes into the bath only a few days before, Legolas thought, [Let's hope she can at least complete the task without pouring out over the table.]

Glancing Legolas's way, she scowled as if to say, 'No love lost here, either.' Hurrying, she joined Erestor near the doors.

[I've made my choice, there's no turning back now,] thought Legolas. His hand was still held tight in Elrond's own, and Legolas left it there, realizing he was gripping fingers every bit as hard as was Elrond.

Not for the world would he have pulled away, for he remembered all too well Mithrandir's warning of days past: "The mate you are committed to claiming is every bit the proud, injured warrior you are. While you cannot make him happy any more than he can make you happy, you would do well not to humiliate him in public or in private. You would also do well to seek a common ground on which the two of you may become friends, as lovers seem an impossibility."

"I present to you this night Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

There was a long moment of total, stunned silence during which Legolas held his breath. A single voice whispered in the deep silence of the hall, followed by another. He heard his name in each whispered comment which was followed by others. They turned into a steady murmur as the crowd realized that the elf they'd considered one of lowly rank from Mirkwood, moving freely for days among them and witnessing their warts and weaknesses, was actually Thranduil's youngest son.

"I've seen the same terrified look in the eyes of a hare ensnared," Elrond murmured, so quietly that not even Glorfindel – seated but a few feet away and exhibiting keen interest - could have heard. Releasing Legolas's fingers, he laid his hand on the younger elf's shouler. "Be still and trust me a little longer if you can."

"I do trust you."

Reaching down, Elrond retrieved his wine. The crowd quieted again when he raised the goblet in Legolas's honor. "To you, Legolas Thranduilion, I promise my protection, my love and my life."

Sipping from the goblet, he offered it next to Legolas, who drank from it as well. Behind him, chairs scraped back as Glorfindel and Mithrandir rose to their feet. Legolas didn't need to look to know that the twins were following with more than a little reluctance.

"Our father's betrothal is welcome news indeed. Welcome, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood," Elladan murmured. Silent Elrohir offered no verbal chalenge. Instead, he favored Legolas with a stony bow of respect.

Mithrandir toasted the two of them with apparent sincerity. "May your eternity together be filled with peace, happiness, and much love."

"Our lord is betrothed," said Glorfindel, grinning. "Let us celebrate through the night in song, dancing and many good wishes."

Complete silence met Glorfindel's urging. Legolas sensed that the elves in the hall were simply too shocked at their lord's tying himself to Thranduil's shabbiest son to have any reaction other than disbelief. From somewhere close to the door, a loud feminine voice rang out to echo through the hall. "THAT's a prince?"

Elrond narrowed his eyes over Legolas's head and gave what might have been a low growl, but Legolas himself had no need to turn to ascertain the owner of that voice. Closing his eyes, he thought, [Aniviel.] No love lost between them indeed, and yet wasn't her pointed, three-word analysis of Legolas's status all too appropriate? He didn't behave like a prince, and Elrond was getting a poor mate in exchange for his alliance with Mirkwood.

The ironic truth was suddenly too much for Legolas. Life or fate and kings were much stronger than any mere elf or even the ruler of Imladris. No matter what he or Elrond wanted, others had maneuvered and manipulated until rather than rail against the Valar or go insane trying to fight the manipulations, he could only accept and step blindly into tomorrow.

Looking up at Elrond, he let himself smile. Laughter - hysterical or not - bubbled up inside of him until he had to let it out. It rang through the hall, chased Aniviel's words and Aniviel herself down the hallway with Erestor in hot, embarrassed pursuit that one of his household should insult their masters so.

Legolas knew that Aniviel would pay the price for her tactlessness; she would be forever banished to the kitchens or perhaps to the stables – to become a mere groom, mucking out stalls until she constantly smelled of horse and callouses formed on her delicate white hands. Though Legolas himself might ask that her fate be different, if only to spare the horses her incompetence, Aniviel herself had sealed that fate.

To Elrond and the listening crowd, he said, "Given my untidy arrival from Mirkwood and events shared by all of us in the aftermath, she spoke but the truth. I am not upset, neither should you be." Still in possession of Elrond's goblet, Legolas raised it. "I thank you for your welcome, my lord. Your happiness will be mine."

A cheer did go up then, as dismay was replaced by happiness and the elves of Imladris wished to believe this betrothal was for the good of all. Legolas thought Elrond's gray eyes held more than a little relief at his words.

"Let us go," Elrond murmured, draping a companionable arm about Legolas's shoulders.

Legolas fit beneath it as though made to be there, and he jumped only a little – so little that he thought no one but Elrond might notice. Knowing what was expected of him as he was now betrothed, Legolas slid his arm around the Elf-lord's waist for all to see as they walked from the Great Hall. Neither Aniviel or Erestor were anywhere in sight as they journeyed back to what the household would now think of as their private chambers.

"For better or worse, you belong to the Master of Imladris now," Elrond said grimly once the doors had been closed and privacy had been gained. Shrugging out of his outer robe, he laid it across the back of a chair and smoothed a hand across it, as if seeking comfort from the soft cloth. "No one will dare pursue you in any capacity."

"That is well." Legolas watched Elrond disappear into the bedchamber beyond, no doubt to shed the other heavy robe he wore, to be more comfortable in the night. "Between the intense interest of my dance parteners and of Erestor, I was beginning to feel that peace would never be mine here. I dared not offend, but neither had I any wish to endure their attentions."

Elrond all but leaped back into the outer chamber. Naked. "Erestor? You were being approached by Erestor?"

Legolas smiled mildly at Elrond's shocked expression. "You were bound to the Prince of Mirkwood, my lord, not to some lowly scout. What harm could come to Erestor if he dared approach me?"

"Erestor was interested in courting you?"

"Erestor has been interested since I was trapped without clothing in the bath. He evidently liked what he saw and was merely waiting for you to be distracted once your prince arrived."

Elrond moved closer, obviously seeking to somehow reassure, to offer comfort in this awkward situation. Legolas turned away from him, however, his gaze fixed with determination on the winter scene outside on the balcony rather than on the large, well-built and very naked Elf-lord at his side. With a sigh, Elrond turned away and left again, hopefully to cover what was disturbing Legolas.

Music and gentle laughter wafted up from the Great Hall. Legolas bore no illusions as to what those below would be talking about, or laughing about for that matter.

[Aniviel is right: I am no prince, regardless my birth,] he thought, standing at the door overlooking Elrond's private garden. [It's far too late for me to be anything but what I am. All that's left is for Elrond and me to bond this night, and for me to try not to make him too miserable afterward.]

A few seconds later, Elrond emerged from his bedchamber to begin extinguishing candles until none were left. Coming to stand beside Legolas, the Elf-lord did not try to touch him again.

"I thought to leave us in darkness," Elrond explained, "so that if anyone is watching, our intimacy will be assumed."

Nodding, Legolas said, "The snow is falling again, as heavily as it did when Mithrandir and I arrived. It's so calm, so quiet and peaceful now compared to the chaos of the fire."

"Calm, as your heart is in chaos this night?"

"I am all right."

"You were not offended by Aniviel's outburst?"

"Legolas shrugged. "As I said in the hall, she spoke only the truth."

"I was offended, even if you were not. You are very much a prince in heart as well as by birth and heritage."

"She spoke the truth," Legolas replied with quiet determination.

"As we should, one to the other." Reaching out, Elrond ran a hand down the golden mane that was bleached to white in the snowlight. When Legolas did not move away from his touch, Elrond continued the caress. "You seem at least at ease with this affection."

"You are touching me as a friend. Since I arrived, you have taken great care to look after me as a friend."

"I would like to think so." Elrond sounded pleased.

"At the very least, I owe you the same."

"Legolas, you owe me nothing."

"I have never known the sort of kindness you are offering. How could I not wish to return it?"

Turning with a sigh, Elrond lowered himself into the nearest chair. "What I offer has never carried a price, Legolas. If payment is required, then please consider that your saving my horses and helping me punish those resonsible have indebted me to you."

Legolas made an impatient gesture. "Our betrothal and impending bond do not involve the horses. Until tonight, Thranduil's trap has been a quiet, if not private, matter between us. Now that all of Imladris has been told, the trap has further closed about us."

Elrond cocked his head. "So soon you are regretting our announcement?"

"I regret nothing, as you have made everything happen in the most gentle way possible."

"You should have faith that it will continue to be so." Elrond slouched in the chair like a great, insouisant cat.

Giving a low growl, Legolas began pacing. "Are you attempting to distract me from the point I wish to make? I am no diplomat, Elrond, my skill with words is little. I beg your patience this night, to try and make you understand. Surely you will bond with me tonight, for to do otherwise would humiliate you before all of Imladris."

"Indeed?" The Elf-lord sounded half-amused.

"I enjoy your company," Legolas ploughed on. "Surely that is enough to ensure that the bond between us is not the unhappy, eternal horror you fear it will be?" Halting before Elrond, Legolas all but glowered down at him.

***

The Elf-lord waited a moment, until he was certain Legolas was finished speaking. "Let me make sure I understand you, my elf. You do not regret that all of Imladris knows we are betrothed?"

"That is correct."

"And you feel that we must make love tonight and become bonded, else I will suffer untold humliation?"

"Yes."

Elrond arched an elegant eyebrow. [Where did he get that impression, I wonder?] "Have you changed your mind then? Discovered that you want me as a man may want another?"

The elf all but wrinkled his nose. "Elrond, I…"

"That is as I thought." Slouching further in the chair, he gave a deep sigh and rested his chin in his hand. "No, Legolas, I will not take you, this night or any other."

"Then I will have failed and Thranduil will send for me."

"He shall not have you," Elrond said mildly.

"You do not understand either the king of Mirkwood or me!" Legolas exploded. "To bond with you is what I came here to do, and I will honor our agreement."

"And just how do you propose to do that?" Elrond asked mildly. "Tie me down and have your way with me?"

"It is only because of your patience and tolerance of my immature attitudes that we are not already bonded," Legolas said, ignoring Elrond's question. "It must be done, and you do care for me. That is far better than I ever antipated. It is enough."

Elrond stopped slouching and gained his feet to confront the younger elf nose-to-nose. "It is far from enough!"

"It must be, for two such as we are, caught in Thranduil's—"

"I do not consider myself trapped, nor should you." Elrond loomed over Legolas, crowding him so close to the table that he shoved against it and set a pile of manuscripts sliding toward the floor. Sparing them them the briefest of glances, Elrond reached past Legolas and shoved them back atop themselves. "You are under my protection, elfling. Whether you or your recalictrant father recognizes that or not, it is a powerful thing. Let his guards come – they shall not have you. Thranduil shall not have you."

"It is a pretty picture you paint, but it cannot be so."

Elrond stepped back a pace. "You have so little faith in me?"

"It is not faith in you that I lack." Legolas sounded desperate. "It is knowledge of Thranduil and his wrath at being thwarted that prevents me from believing what you say. Mark me, Elrond: if we do not bond, he will reclaim me."

Reaching out, Elrond fingered the braid at Legolas's temple. "He shall not have you tonight, and neither will I. You belong to yourself, Legolas. If I am willing to send you into Dol Guldur and let you fight the wraiths to protect our people, why will you not fight for yourself?"

"Because the outcome of the battle is assured." Tears filled the blue eyes glittering at him in the dark. "Thranduil will win."

Elrond cradled Legolas's face in his hand, stroked the high cheekbone with his thumb and brushed away a wayward tear. "He will not win."

Closing his eyes, Legolas subsided and leaned into Elrond's hand. "Enough, my lord. Let the last night we spend together before your sons and I depart not be lost to contention. You will not yield on this matter. Neither will I, so we will leave it for some little while. I will tell you instead that no one has ever touched me as you do. I think no one else has ever wanted to."

"I find that hard to believe, my prince. Perhaps it is simply that no one else has dared discover you enjoy such touching?"

"Probably." Legolas kept his eyes closed as Elrond moved onto stroke his hair, down over his shoulder.

"You have learned to enjoy this particular touch rather than simply endure it, then?"

"Yes."

Elrond stepped closer. "Then on this our last night, will you lie with me in my bed? To talk and nothing more?"

Opening his eyes, Legolas held Elrond's gaze and considered the question for the longest of moments, until the Elf-lord thought he should withdraw the invitation and offer apology. And then, much to Elrond's surprise, Legolas slipped past him and the table piled high with books and scrolls to disappear inside his bedchamber.

Disbelieving, the Elf-lord followed a few minutes later to find Legolas's tunic folded neatly over the nearest chair. His boots were tucked next to Elrond's, and the elf himself was stretched out on his side along the far side of the bed.

Glittering blue eyes held his in the shadowed light. Elrond noted that Legolas had shed none of his clothing but the boots and the tunic: newborn trust extended only so far, after all, which was only to be expected. Smiling to himself at his elf's modesty, Elrond decided he had decided well not to take Legolas this night, no matter the eagerness he felt to do just that.

Sliding gingerly into bed, Elrond settled on his side, face-to-face with his bed-companion. "You have been spending a great many days close to me. Forgive me for asking, but do you enjoy that as well?"

"I enjoy your company," Legolas acknowledged, seeming relieved at the harmless question. "I enjoy the talks we have, regardless I am not used to being contained within walls." There was a long pause, and then he added, "But I do not enjoy listening to your councellors."

"Nor do I sometimes. You and I have come a long way from the first night you spent in these chambers. That night, pulling honest answers from you was like trying to get the twins to take a bath in their younger days. I felt as though I had caged a wounded hawk, but now my hawk comes to rest without fear. It is a vast change, though you still think my walls are cumbersome."

"Not your walls specifically, Elrond. Any walls."

"Ah. I remember a life not contained by walls," Elrond said wistfully, as it seemed the night for confessions. "I too miss it at times."

Legolas's hand was instantly on his shoulder. "Then come with us to Dol Guldur. I would teach you as I will teach Glorfindel."

"I cannot. I am needed here."

"Everyone here is over five hundred years old except me," Legolas observed. "Surely they can do without you for a few days."

Covering Legolas's hand with his own, Elrond felt the long, fine bones of the archer's fingers. "Imladris cannot do without me, for reasons I cannot explain."

"Imladris cannot do without its lord?" Legolas sounded incredulous.

"I...help keep this place safe and must maintain that safety. However strange it sounds, I am this sanctuary's sole guardian. Without me, it would be lost, and I cannot take the chance of leaving it unprotected, not even for a single day."

Legolas nodded and fell into silence for the next few moments. To Elrond, it seemed a sympathetic, almost companionable silence. Such was new to the Elf-lord, as he was so used to being utterly alone with his responsibilities.

"My father spoke of a choice given to you and your children," Legolas finally said, tactfully changing the subject. "That you may choose once between being Eldar or Mortal. Did he speak truth?"

Elrond nodded. "My brother Elros chose a Mortal life."

"What made you choose as you did?"

"Inside myself, I have always belonged to the Eldar. When the time came, there was no choice. My twin felt otherwise."

"Have you ever regretted that choice?"

"I regret having to watch my brother age and die. I mourn his absence and will always miss him. But regret that I am Elven? No. I am who I am and where I belong. The world of Men never held any attraction for me."

"What then attracts you?"

Almost as if he were unable to resist, Elrond found himself reaching to touch Legolas's hair once more where it fanned across his shoulder and flowed onto the bed. "This fascinates me. This attracts me."

He heard Legolas's swift intake of breath but did not stop sifting his fingers through the heavy hair. "I am deeply attracted to you, Legolas, but I suppose you already know that."

"I did not."

"You do now. Such attraction, I assure you, is something I have never before felt for any male." Elrond fell silent then, preferring to let the drifting exploration of his fingers speak for him.

Abandoning the fall of Legolas's mane when his elf shivered, Elrond moved on to the neat braid at his temple. Untangling its end, he was encouraged when Legolas did not protest its unraveling. Lifting his head, the younger elf allowed Elrond to unravel the other braid before reaching behind and undoing the heavy herringbone center braid himself.

Elrond resumed stroking the now-free silver-gold hair, whiel Legolas's tension over Elrond's confession melted away. The silence soon become companionable again, and Elrond heard his companion's breathing slow to a steadier rhythm.

"I do enjoy your touch," Legolas reiterated softly.

Gliding a hand once more over the golden mane, Elrond dared slide his arm about Legolas's shoulder to gently pull him closer. Murmuring softly, nearly asleep, Legolas allowed the contact, body to body. Sliding his own arm across Elrond's ribcage, Legolas nestled beneath the Elf-lord's chin.

[So he welcomes my touch instinctively as well as when he's awake,] Elrond wondered. [And he will reach for me in sleep?] Elrond's arms went around his elf in a fierce hug. [Then, sweet Elbereth, if you return safe home to me from Dol Guldur, then I believe there's yet hope for you to one day love me as I am coming to love you.]

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