Creature Comforts. 

Rating: R18+ or NC-17 depending on the country.	
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas. L/H. Others less important implied. 
Fandom: Lord of the Rings “Fellowship” 
Warnings: Non-consensual / violence / angst / abuse. 
Author: Riff Raff
Email: rivulet_cascade@hotmail.com
Archive: Only if you ask nicely.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the characters and sub-plot I merely borrow them in order 
to please. Don’t sue me I’m broke, my cars a shit heap and I already sold my soul to 
the god that is Paul so you won’t get much. 
Spoilers: Not if you’ve seen the movie and read the books. 
Summary: A ranger’s instincts are little match for the complex being that is his 
companion. 
A/N: This is my first attempt at LoTR slash, so spare me at least some of the criticism 
that come to our seasoned writers. Some of the places, characters, circumstances and 
times are wrong but I’m avidly reading all companions and works for Lord of the 
Rings and I’m making every attempt to fix things I get wrong. Be kind and reviews 
are a must have cause they are what give me the encouragement to continue writing. 
 

Chapter 1 

“The council has decided, we the nine will travel through peril to Mordor. The ring is 
to be destroyed.”

Silently I remain seated in my chair, observing the others as each leave to the 
sanctuary of their rooms. The hobbits are weary after their journey and Gandalf has 
agreed to escort them to their chambers for fear they might fall asleep on their feet. I 
fear the young Frodo has taken upon a burden that shall see him tire in years more 
than his age, and although against my own better judgement, the inclusion of 
Samwise Gamgee as Frodo’s companion, may indeed help the hobbit carry the heavy 
burden. To my left the Dwarf Gimli, son of Gloin thoughtfully smokes his pipe on the 
small balcony. His dwarvish stupidity at the council has no doubt left him silently 
contemplative of his earlier actions. However his actions are not cause for my 
concern, the son of the Steward of Gondor, Boromir is already trying my patience. 
For a man he has the stubborn countenance of a dwarf and the insolent fury of Smaug 
the dragon himself, of which I am surely ashamed to be witness to. He was the first to 
rise from the council chamber with no regard for Elrond who by status alone should 
be given priority and respect above all others that were here. While Elrond chose to 
ignore his insolence I however will not and will take it upon myself to remind the 
keeper of Gondor his place while in Elrond’s home. There is fear among us all, an 
uncertainty of what will come to pass once we move out on our quest but this does not 
excuse rudeness. While I have witnessed this fear upon all my companions, there is 
one that I have not seen but a flinch from his pristine features since he arrived. I have 
lived with elves from my very conception but this wood elf is unlike any I have come 
across. 

From my chair in the now empty council chamber I can hear two melodic voices just 
outside in the corridor in heated conversation. While their voices are similarly 
recognizable as elves they are distinctively different in timbre and pitch. They speak 
in an unfamiliar elven language, it’s syllables those of an older time, seemingly 
unworthy of the young voices I here. While the conversation is indistinguishable to 
my limited knowledge of the language, I strain to identify those partaking in it. As the 
conversation continues a lifetime in Elrond’s care brings to me the identity of one of 
the parties. Glorfindel. An elf closer to me than most, Glorfindel was my tutor as a 
child and I retract instantly my thought of unworthiness of him to the language that 
currently carries his thoughts. I smile silently to myself as the image of Glorfindel 
stretches into my thoughts, his majesty of knowledge and lifetime of learning, a 
physique reserved for only the elven warriors and a mane of golden locks……I pause 
my thoughts as the image instantly dissolves to focus once again on the wood elf from 
the realm of Mirkwood.  Like Glorfindel he too sports the golden hair natural to the 
Sindarian race. As a messenger for his father, King Thranduil, he has attended the 
council and pledges his life to the success of the fellowship. I confess my time in the 
wilderness has not allowed for a great conversion with the elves of Mirkwood but 
there is one thing that has puzzled me exceedingly based on Elrond’s teachings to me. 
As quick as the princeling of Mirkwood was to defend my honour to Boromir, he was 
quicker still to pledge his arrow in aid to Frodo’s quest. Regarding my own identity it 
surprises me greatly that the elf knows of my heritage, while I know naught of his, 
further more I have it on good word that Wood Elves rarely pledge their lives for 
those of other races as easily as the princeling has done. If the Last Alliance has 
taught them one thing it is caution and the reality of expendability. While it was their 
own stubborn fault that so many lives were lost their weariness of engaged battle for 
naught but their own protection has been reluctant to say the least. 

No indeed this Prince Legolas Greenleaf is an extremely confusing creature and is by 
no means an ordinary woodland elf.

“Do you mean to sit here all night Estel? Are the beds of Imaldris to soft for a 
ranger’s liking?”  A voice startles me somewhat from my thoughts. So lost in 
contemplation over Legolas I have missed the ending of the conversation outside in 
the corridor and have rudely ignored the entrance of another to the chamber. Glancing 
up apologetically I relax somewhat to see a familiar friendly face smiling 
questioningly down upon me. 

“Eye’ Glorfindel, one is spoilt in the riches of Imaldris’ hospitality.” Standing from 
my seat I stretch languidly before stepping easily into Glorfindel’s embrace. My tutor 
and I have hardly had time to see each other, since he had arrived back from watching 
Rivendell’s boarders. We are like brothers and his aged wisdom is a comfort in times 
of unrest. Stepping back from the embrace he gestures to one of the corridors leading 
from the chambers. 
 
”Do you care for a little wine before slumber Estel? That is if you were not intending 
to spend the passage of night in that chair of yours.” Glancing back at the chair upon 
which I have sat I sigh heavily aware just how long I have been sitting in silent 
solitude staring at the ghosts of a council now complete. Nodding in acceptance I 
follow Glorfindel’s lead through the passageways towards the kitchens. Apart from 
the night guards who loyally guard the entrance to Elrond’s private chambers, not a 
creature stirs in the deserted hallways. Moving across the threshold of a corridor we 
enter into the kitchens. I smile wistfully to myself as I glance around the room, 
remembering a time as a child that I spent learning humility under the instruction of 
the cooks. Glorfindel moves from the cupboard bearing two chalices, which he slowly 
fills with wine before passing one across to me. Re-corking the bottle of wine I watch 
as the elder elf hitches up his robe and props himself up on the edge of a preparation 
surface. 

“To the safety of the Fellowship.” At my toast we drink in silence myself unable to 
contain a smirk at Glorfindel’s casual ease as he gets comfy on the bench in front of 
me. As Elrond’s closest advisor and friend Glorfindel is the image of noble 
respectability, yet only to those more intimately associated with him understand his 
ease of casualness and understanding.
“There is something bothering you Estel, I see it in your eyes. Pray tell me what 
unrests you so.” I sigh heavily and lean back against the wall as I take another 
exaggerated sip from my chalice of rose wine. For a long time I silently consider what 
has been going through my mind before my resolve to ask Glorfindel’s advice 
becomes to strong to deny. 

“The Mirkwood Prince, Legolas, he is unlike any wood elf I have come across.” 
Edging into the conversation I glance cautiously up from the rim of my chalice to 
witness Glorfindel’s reaction to my subtle edge into the topic. For a moment he 
remains passive before a knowing smile seems to spread across his features. 
Glorfindel’s sources of amusement in my questioning evades me somewhat but I 
remain silent eager to here his reply. 

“He is indeed, a pretty creature.” Glorfindel pauses his eyes sparkling an unfamiliar 
knowledge that I seem to be missing. “The youngest son of Thranduil certainly has 
not escaped the notice of many upon his arrival.” Glorfindel stares at me a thin 
calculating eyebrow rising, as confusion rises in reflection upon my own. Somehow I 
think my intention of discussing Legolas’ commitment towards the fellowship has 
been lost in another meaning to Glorfindel. When I do not reply Glorfindel sighs 
heavily and rolls his eyes, quite unbecoming to a creature who’s race by nature are 
virtuously patient. “My dearest Estel, mind your heart if you please. Legolas so I have 
been told is betrothed to a young maiden his father has chosen for him. She is plain so 
I’ve heard but the match will procure secure alliances between Mirkwood and the 
young Maiden’s realm. Kind Thranduil is already refusing other offers of marriage for 
his son in favour of this one.” Glorfindel downs the remnants of his chalice before 
placing it delicately by his side, leaving me to shake my head in repute as his ability 
to swallow great volumes of alcohol in merely a few moments. 
 
”You mistake my intentions Glorfindel. I merely wished to explore the princelings 
background, having seen for myself how unusually different in mind he is from his 
pigheaded father.”  Glorfindel laughs at the jest but shakes his head defiantly at my 
quick defence at the assumptions laid at my feet. 

“Nay Aragorn, I see more than just curiosity in his background. Admittedly he has 
more sense in matters of governmental affair than his father but it is not that you are 
curious of. If your tongue were possibly a snake it would have been slithering on the 
floor at the very first sight of the prince.” Shocked at what Glorfindel has proposed so 
preposterously to my face I instantly glare at him in sincerity. He has mistaken me 
completely, and while the comment was made in jest I believe he thinks that my 
attentions have turned to Legolas. 

“It is not true Glorfindel. I am betrothed to Arwen the lady holds my heart and none 
other. I merely have an interest in Mirkwood’s prince, as his ability to work well with 
those others in the fellowship depends on its success. We cannot be divided in this 
quest we must be trustworthy to each. I shall not see it fail because Mirkwood’s 
Prince carries the same grudge as his father does.” I swallow hard and glance away 
from Glorfindel suddenly ashamed by my outburst. It was not right of me to act in 
such a way, Glorfindel was only trying to help. For a moment there is silence before 
Glorfindel steps towards me and places a comforting hand upon my shoulder. 

“I apologise Estel, I did not mean to taunt you so. If you say there is not other motive 
for interest in the young Prince I believe it so. I have witnessed your birth Estel and 
sadly I shall see your passing as well, you are close to me like a son and I did not 
mean to hurt you so.” I sigh heavily and close my eyes in forgiveness to which 
Glorfindel is asking. I can hold no ill feelings to a person who knows me so well. 

“It is fine Glorfindel, I am sorry I did not take the humour as well as you should have 
liked. I am only concerned with the quest that is to come and it seems to have 
momentarily taken away my good nature.” Glorfindel smiles at me warmly and nods 
understandingly before clasping me into an embrace of which I relish in it’s 
protectiveness. 

“I will detain you no longer then, for you must rest. I bid you good night Estel and a 
wisdom through which fear might fall away.” With a final smile Glorfindel turns and 
moves to the entrance to the kitchens his robe swishing around his feet seemingly as if 
he was floating. Before he leaves he pauses at the entrance and smiles at me cheekily. 
“I knew you could not have a fancy for Legolas, he is far too skinny and his eyes are 
an unnatural grey, quite unbecoming.” I groan at the jest and instantly spring after 
Glorfindel who it seems has purposely taunted me to gain a rise. He laughs and sprints 
light-footed from view leaving me to bounce after him in a game no doubt that will 
last until he tires or the sun rises from behind the hills. It is true that I do not desire 
Legolas however it must be said that he has aroused my interest in both his beauty and 
mind but I will not dwell. My beloved Arwen will a wait my return from the quest and 
with luck I shall come back in one piece. 

To Be Continued. 


Chapter 2

Glorfindel flops quite ungraciously onto his bed his chest heaving beneath the tight 
cloth of his tunic as he attempts to regulate his breathing. I take the opportunity to sit 
down on the edge of the bed; my feet are quite killing me. Despite having played 
many an elven game of skill against Glorfindel in childhood, I believe we are both   
tiring in our old age. We have been running through the halls and gardens of Imaldris, 
a boisterous game of tag between two grown men. In the silence of the dark bedroom 
all that can be heard is our irregular breathing before Glorfindel sits up on his elbows 
and begins to laugh softly. His melodic chuckle is infections and I find myself 
laughing also unaware of the humour.

“I have not run like that since you fell from that horse in your youth Estel.” Turning I 
lie down easily on my side next to Glorfindel as he smiles wistfully and casts his mind 
back to his memories. I see him turn the thoughts over in his mind before sighing 
heavily and glancing down to me at his side. In his face I see a thousand life times 
each scattered with every emotion possible. While physically his skin shows no signs 
of aging his eyes portray the tiredness his body hides. As a child I listened engrossed 
to his stories of valiant warriors and fair maidens, they were like fairytales and 
dreams. Only in my teachings did I learn of their truth and only in maturity do I 
realise that reality is not like fairytales at all. 

“Will you ever cross the waters again?” My question somewhat startles Glorfindel at 
it’s abruptness but he softens as he realises the intrigue behind my musings. I watch as 
he nods solemnly his hand coming to rest on my own. 

“Eye’ I will one day. For what it is worth I am bound to Middle Earth until such time 
as Elrond leaves it. I am his protector and it is my hope that I shall travel with him 
when the time comes. I have already seen Mandos Halls and I don’t want to go there 
alone again without it being of my own choice.” I sigh heavily and nod before turning 
to fiddle with the corner of the bed coverlet my mind already playing the fears of 
Mordor over in my head. 

“I know how that feels. My death will not be mine to choose. I will perish like those 
bound to mortality and I shall take that journey alone.” Disturbed by my thoughts I sit 
up from the bed and clutch my face in my hands shutting the world off, as I consider 
what I shall never have. I hear Glorfindel sigh sadly before he sits up next to me and 
places a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

“You will return Estel, from this quest, as you have many others. You are no stranger 
to death but unlike many of your kind, you will face it with stability of heart. Arwen 
loves you as you do her, nothing can break that. Lord Elrond is just a father concerned 
for the welfare of his daughter. When you return you will return with honour no 
matter what the outcome, then he cannot refuse you her hand in marriage. You do not 
need a crown upon your head to show your worth. All will be well Estel, I believe it 
in my heart.” Turning I stare into Glorfindel’s eyes, his shining hope alleviating my 
heart somewhat from its constriction. 

“I must get some rest the scouts will be coming home soon and if the news they bring 
is grievous then the fellowship will be departing within the next phase of the moon.” 
Glorfindel nods as he and I rise from the bed to stand facing each other. 

“May you sleep well Estel and your heart lie easy in it’s fear.” Gripping my hand in a 
warriors stance Glorfindel smiles widely at me before brushing his free hand down 
my cheek in comfort. I sigh and turn quickly and move silently from the room into the 
corridors of Imaldris. It is cold and I wrap my robe tighter around my body as I make 
my way towards my chambers. In my haste for slumber I do not notice the presence 
of another heading the opposite way down the corridor before we collide. I myself 
hold my chin in agony from where it seemed to collide with the other’s shoulder 
while the other falls with little grace to the hard slate floor with an exclamation of 
surprise. 

“Legolas?” In the dim light of the Valar I instantly recognise the figure now sprawled 
out upon the ground and regretfully offer my hand towards him for assistance in 
rising. For a moment my hand remains untaken as Legolas stares at it almost in fear 
before awkwardly taking it and allowing me to help him from the floor.

“Aragorn, I apologise for my clumsiness. I was not aware anyone else was awake.” 
Legolas seems to shy away from me a blush colouring his cheeks and the tips of his 
ears. 

“No it is I who should apologise, I should look where I am going.” I smile warmly 
before glancing at Legolas’ appearance. He is adorned in his nightly robes, his hair is 
hanging upbraided around his face while his feet are bare. He looks almost wild but 
beautiful all the same. Self-consciously Legolas pulls the robe tighter around himself 
as I realise my extended glance has turned into an awed stare at the creature in front 
of me. The air seems to grow thick with guilt all of a sudden as Legolas steps away 
from me and lowers his gaze away from mine. 

“You will excuse me.” Without warning Legolas pushes hastily past me and swiftly 
moves down the corridor. Suspicion grows on me as I watch Legolas address Elrond’s 
nightly guards at the end of the corridor and is without question allowed to pass into 
the chambers. For a moment I remain still until curiosity and suspicion become too 
much. Despite Legolas’ more placid nature he is still King Thranduil’s son and his 
sneaking about late at night is more than a little concerning. Moving quickly down the 
corridor I address the guards their unwillingness to tell me of what Legolas said a sure 
sign of ill doings. Despite their reluctance to diverge the conversation with the young 
prince they all me access to the chambers and move with light feet to the door of 
Elrond’s library. The thin slither of light that illuminates the darkened halls a sure 
sign of the occupant’s whereabouts. In the quietness I hear voices, and move slowly to 
the ajar door of the library and carefully peer inside. 

“I have spoken with Glorfindel already, he agrees it is improper for the ceremony to 
take places before my departing with the fellowship.” Legolas paces in and out of my 
vision his robes easily flapping with the flustered movement. Elrond sits quietly 
observing the young prince his expression painfully sympathetic towards Legolas’ 
argument. The elder Lord is dressed much the same as someone who has been 
disturbed from their sleep, his hair in tangles and his robe in disarray. 

“And I neither have any grievances with what you are suggesting Greenleaf, but it is 
you Fathers wishes.” Legolas pauses in his pacing as Elrond sits forward in his chair 
to calmly address the flustered young prince. “He wants you married Legolas, you 
have known this for sometime, it should come as no surprise that he wishes it to be so 
before you depart.” In amazement I watch as Legolas fury culminates and he turns 
around to throw the small water glass he is holding into the far wall. The shattering 
pieces fall loudly to the ground echoing around the chambers. 

“To Mordor and the fires of hell with my father. I am not a child any more, and he is 
not my keeper. I will note be treated as a boy just out of his minority. I shall not leave 
a wife behind with an unforseen future on whether I shall ever return, even more so a 
wife which I do not love. It is cruel and against everything I have been taught and I 
will not do it.” Legolas all but screams his elvish curses to Elrond his hands clenched 
tightly in fists at his side.

“Legolas!” With a chastising growl Elrond rises hastily to his feet and moves to stand 
menacingly behind the youth. I am exceedingly curious to what will come next, it is 
not like Elrond to chastise so harshly. “Calm yourself, I shall not hear of you waking 
half of Rivendell with your childish tantrum.” I raise an amused eyebrow and smiled 
to myself as Legolas sighs heavily and allows his shoulders to slump, the proud 
warrior I met at the council looking suddenly vulnerable and hurt. There is a silence 
before Elrond gently places his hand on the young princes shoulder. “Come ‘melme’ 
you must fulfil your duties as you were meant to. You knew this was coming, we have 
talked about it before. Do not make it harder than it already will be, if it will not be 
born of love then let respect guide your relationship instead.” In awe I watch as 
Elrond leads Legolas to his seat allowing the younger elf to kneel at his feet as he sits 
down easily. Instantly Legolas snuggles into Elrond’s knee as the elder’s hands begin 
gently stroking the golden threads of Legolas hair. 

“Will you at least make him see reason to postpone the marriage till my return with 
the fellowship?” Legolas’ voice has lost its intensity and has become now merely a 
whisper as he closes his eyes in sadness. I watch as Elrond stares softly at the youth at 
his feet and nods slowly. 
 
”Eye, I shall.” There is a pause as Legolas sits up from Elrond’s knee and stares at 
him hopefully. “But you must tell me something truthfully before I do so.” Legolas 
nods and I watch as he lovingly kisses Elrond’s hand awaiting the question. Elrond 
takes a small intake of air before resting back in his chair. “Would you be as 
determined to postpone you marriage to Genevieve had Aragorn not been departing 
with the fellowship?” Unable to suppress a gasp at my sudden entrance into the 
conversation I cover my mouth foolishly and step back from the opening in the door, 
hoping that I have not been discovered as Elrond and Legolas look towards the 
entrance. For a moment there is silence before Elrond assures Legolas it was only the 
guards yawning in the corridor. 

“I fear I do not understand the question that is asked of me, what is it you wish to 
know that concerns the ranger?” I relax a little and move back to look into the library 
after I am sure the pair inside have not seen me. I hear Elrond chuckle lightly as he 
brushes his hand down the side of Legolas’ face. 

“You do not play me for a fool Legolas. Is your protest to the marriage solely born 
from teachings or is it more matters of the heart and to whom you have already given 
it to? For I will not defend this protest if I will gain your fathers fury at you coming 
home from the fellowship bound to another? I will not risk alliances between 
Rivendell’s people and that of Mirkwood just because of a folly of attraction.” The 
conversation has taken a confusing turn but as little as I know Legolas seems to gain 
the hidden meaning behind Elrond’s words. Slowly the young elf rises from Elrond’s 
feet and vehemently shakes his head. 

“If you mean that I have feelings for the ranger, you are surely mistaken. I care 
nothing for a man who is so ashamed and weak of his own race as to become a ranger 
and deny his duties as heir to the Throne of Gondor.” I step back immediately from 
the door at Legolas’ snarling comment unsure all of a sudden of the elf’s friendship 
with me. “I only wish to be released from an engagement that contains no love, so that 
I may make my own decision, just as others are allowed.” An anger flashes through 
me as I realise the malice intended by Legolas words about me and I clench my fists 
at my side. “Besides the ranger seems to have a keen interest in the hobbit named 
Frodo. He spends far too much time staring at him as one already committed should.” 
The sarcasm with which coats Legolas last comment makes me ropable and I turn 
hastily from the door, unable to listen further to the comments. I have no doubt in my 
mind now that Legolas is not the right elf to be accompanying Frodo on the quest. 
Despite his archery skills the emotional baggage and malice that Legolas carries with 
him far outweigh his skills and ultimately will affect the fellowship. In my angered 
resolve to talk to Elrond in the morning I forget to silence the guards of my presence 
as I pass them back towards my own chamber. It is a mistake I will pay for in the 
morning. 

Chapter 3 

Rising early the sweet song of morning awakens my spirit. I yawn and stretch 
languidly upon my bed before swinging my legs from under the covers and rising to 
my feet. As always my neatly pressed and washed garments lie awaiting my attention 
on the back of the chair in the corner. It used to unrest me knowing that young elf 
maidens were coming and going from my room at night while I slept to deliver 
clothes, stoke the fire and refill my water pitchers, not however I find it quite 
fascinating. Taking my robe I quickly wrap it around my naked body before moving 
to open the balcony doors and stare out upon the glittering city of Rivendell. The sun 
is already licking at the edges of the hills as the inhabitants of the valley below begin 
to stir. My silent solitude is interrupted as movement in the hall outside my chambers 
indicate the already awake householders. Yawning once again I move quickly to wash 
and refresh myself from the silver basin of cold water before dressing myself in the 
more regal attire reserved for times when I am not wandering the wilderness. A knock 
at my door hastens my dressing before I move to answer it.  

“Good morning, Strider! Did you see the stars last night, weren’t they beautiful in the 
sky.” Quite shocked I step back from the door as Merry hustles his way quickly into 
my room without waiting for an invitation. Despite his rudeness I ignore it for the 
comfort that his excited demure brings to me this morning. After all I am sure he did 
not mean it.  

“I did see them Master Brandywine, in the sky like they usually are when I am here in 
Rivendell.” I chuckle quietly as Merry inspects my room with cautionary glances 
before turning back to me confused somewhat.  

“Your apartments are spacious, it is highly unfair that I must share with Sam, Pip and 
Frodo as well, while you share with no one.” The indignant look on Merry’s face 
makes me laugh heartily at the obvious disgust he shows towards his roommates. I 
finish getting dressed as Merry climbs up onto my bed and bounces a few times 
before climbing back down to the floor.  

“Is everyone at breakfast yet?” Merry watches me brush my hair before I turn back to 
him and raise my eyebrow in questioning. I watch as he nods enthusiastically before 
pausing thoughtfully and decides to shake his head instead.  

“Well yes, everyone except that Prince of Mirkwood and Elrond’s son’s. I saw them 
down at the stables just before I came to find you.” Nodding understandingly I follow 
Merry out of my chambers and towards the main hall. It is good that Legolas will not 
be at breakfast, it means I can speak freely with Elrond about my discomfort at 
Legolas inclusion with the fellowship.

It is only a short walk to the dinning hall and I am greeted with several smiling faces 
as I take my place next to Arwen at her fathers side. Merry sits with Pip further down 
the table and begins instantly snacking on the delights that Elrond’s chefs have come 
up with.   

“Good morning Estel, I hope your slumber was fruitful.” I nod graciously at Elrond, 
as Arwen places a gentle hand on my knee beneath the table.  

“As well as could be considering the snore of the dwarf.” The table laugh heartily at 
my joke as Gimli grunts his disapproval through a mouth full of fruit. The table falls 
into easy conversation about Rivendell’s beauties. As Merry had noted earlier 
Legolas’ absence among the diners is clear with the position next to Boromir absent 
of its intended occupant. It is only a few minutes before three elves appear at the 
entrance to the hall, silencing the conversation as they bow respectively to Elrond at 
the head of the table.  

“Father we wish to be going earlier to scout the perimeters, may you excuse our 
presence from breakfast.” One of the dark hair elves addresses his father, while the 
familiar blonde stands stoically at his side, their bows and quivers purposely held in 
their hands. Unlike Elrond’s son’s Legolas is dressed in a warrior’s green tunic and 
leggings traditional with wood elves, his hunting leathers also attached to his wrists 
and back. Unsure of Elrond’s response I continue to eat waiting a reply from the lord. 
After a moments consideration he speaks after drinking from his chalice to clear his 
throat.  

“You may go but I would have enjoyed Legolas’ company at this breakfast.” The 
comment made is more a polite request that a statement with purpose and we all 
watch as Legolas straightens himself and bows his head in respect to Elrond’s request. 
For a moment we all expect acceptances of the Lords subtle request however I am 
personally surprise as Legolas refuses quite plainly.  

“You shall excuse me also my lord, I care not for food this morn, but fresh air and 
open spaces. I fear I may have stayed indoors to long.” Expectantly we all glance 
back to Elrond unsure of his reaction to Legolas insolence but confusion is obvious as 
Elrond sighs and turns his attention back to his meal.  

“Very well, be sure to watch your backs there will be enough injuries to note after the 
fellowship has departed without adding more while still inside Rivendell’s boarders.” 
Elrond’s seeming disappointment does not go unnoticed by myself and before the trio 
can leave I hastily address the blonde elf.  

“Would you not benefit from substances anyhow Legolas? Or are Mirkwood’s elves 
accustomed to starving themselves before undertaking activity.” At my voice Legolas 
spins hastily around his glare disturbing in it’s coldness as it shifts from me to Elrond 
and back again. I am quite unprepared for the retort that he replies with and am left 
quite embarrassed under the gaze of those at the table.  

“No Estel, not as accustom as Rangers are to sneaking around at night listening to 
private conversations.” I swallow hard the spite I heard last night returning once again 
to the elves tone. Lowering my gaze I become painfully aware of Elrond, Gandalf and 
Glorfindel staring at me angrily. “But as you seem so concerned by my health I shall 
be sure to stop by the kitchens on my way out.” The smug smile of success that 
plasters Legolas face is purely evil. From the passive demure of innocents that address 
the council only a few days ago, seems to have given way to a darker side only 
reflected in Kind Thranduil. It is obvious now that my presences last night did not go 
unnoticed as much as I would have liked. His steel blue eyes seem to pieces me and 
they send a shudder of both fear and desire through my body. It seems his beauty is 
only heightened by his anger, which is intriguing to say the least. 

When the three elves have gone I hastily excuse myself without waiting for leave and 
retire quickly to a private part of the garden outside to be alone with my guilt. I heard 
the murmuring begin as soon as I had stood up and I intend to stay clear of all 
participants for at least a few days until I can face Lord Elrond again. Sitting staring 
down at the small stream under the willows, I do not notice my company until they 
have positioned themselves next to me and are lighting a pipe.  

“Your solitude will not help you Aragorn. Wallowing in self pity does not make the 
soul lighter of guilt.” I sigh heavily as Gandalf looks at me patiently from beneath his 
bushy grey eyebrows.  

“I was only suspicious of his motives when entering Lord Elrond’s chambers so late 
at night, the guards seemed most willing to allow him access.” My pathetic attempt at 
defending myself earns a small chuckle from Gandalf who shakes his head in repute. 
“Their willingness Aragorn stems from a long arranged agreement between Elrond 
and Legolas” Confused by this agreement Gandalf speaks of I turn to sit facing the 
wise old man before me, willingly awaiting his teaching. He takes a long drag from 
his pipe the smoke rising from beneath this beared as he slowly sighs. “They were 
lovers once, Elrond and the young prince.” A gasp catches in my throat as my eyes 
grow wide, the sudden explanation of the closeness of last nights conversation 
between the two making so much sense. “The young prince was entrusted to Elrond 
care by order of Galadrial. It was meant as a union to join both bitter realms of 
Mirkwood and Rivendell after the political debacle that was the last alliance. Legolas 
was to be a steward and learn the ways of both realms.” Taking another breath of 
smoke Gandalf pauses and closes his eyes a painful memory seeming to disturb him 
before he continues sadly. “Elrond was lonely he had lost his wife many moons 
before, it was not his fault as his heart fell into love again for the young Prince.”  

“What happened?” Unable to keep quiet I intently seek an answer. It is obvious that 
there is still love there but they are not together at all, something grievous must have 
come to pass to keep them apart. Gandalf smiles lightly at turns to stare at me sadly. 
“Thranduil found out about the relationship and condemned it, calling Elrond’s abuse 
of his son, that was not yet in his majority. So Elrond released Legolas from his 
commitment to him for the sake of Legolas future in his fathers house.”   

‘That is terrible being denied love for a simple disagreement of governmental affairs.” 
I swallow hard as Gandalf raises a knowing eyebrow in my direction.  

“Does it reflect your own requited love Aragorn?” He pauses purposefully allowing 
me to relate my own stranded situation with Arwen to that of Legolas and Elrond. 
“Apologise to him Aragorn for you actions. You and he share a common tie. He seeks 
only to marry for love as do you. He will be an asset to the fellowship with his skills 
but you must make peace before we leave.” Gandalf stands and gently rests a hand on 
my shoulder in comfort. I know what has to be done and I am surely guilty of 
assuming the worst of the young prince.  

“It does not excuse the way he spoke of me to Elrond last night in the chamber. His 
accusations where quite malicious in their nature.” My attempt at grumbling goes no 
further as Gandalf shakes his head and heartily laughs at my foolishness.  

“Aragorn you are a fool, Legolas knew well before the guards informed him that you 
were eaves dropping last night. Did you think he’d confess his new heart to a man he 
once gave it to, while the object of his new affections stands listening at the door? 
Nay, Legolas may be King Thranduil son but he is not so stupid as his father.” It takes 
a few seconds for the comment’s message to sink in but at realization I am horrified.  
Shocked at what Gandalf has just suggested I stand hastily to protest out right what he 
has just said however before I can make words he has swiftly disappeared back inside 
leaving me opening and closing my mouth like a fish starved of air. Legolas new 
affections? That is beyond conception considering the way in which Legolas has acted 
towards me in the past few days and considering that we have only just met. Shaking 
my head in repute I push Gandalf’s words aside as teasing, just as Glorfindel jest was 
last night. 

Finally resolved to apologise to Legolas for my rudeness last night I quickly head to 
my chambers to grab my riding cloak and sword before running to the stables. No 
doubt the stewards know of which direction the three elves rode towards and with 
luck my skills as a ranger will lead me to them swiftly. 
 
Once I have mounted I smile thankfully at the stewards and take a glance at the 
homely house aware now of my audience of Elrond and Glorfindel on the balcony 
above me. I wave to them easily before chuckling to myself at the repeated words of 
Gandalf that flash through my mind. “Love attraction indeed I think not”. With a 
hasty heel I take flight towards the furthest edges of Rivendell determined to put right 
a rift that could potentially split the fellowship if it is not resolved. 

TBC……………………..

Chapter 4

It has taken a good deal of skills and most of the morning to track down the three 
rogue elves, but I am now rewarded by the familiar laughs of mischievous youngsters. 
Dismounting out of site of the stream ahead I allow my horse to roam freely as I creep 
quietly into a position where I can observe their activities without being noticed. 
There is no need to rush into apologising while there is time to observe just what these 
elves have been up to on their scouting expedition. Crouching silently within the 
bushes I take in the scene. Legolas is standing on watch from a rock near the streams 
edge. Elrond’s son’s Elladan and Elrohir are bathing naked within the shallows of the 
stream their weapons thoughtfully within easy reach of the bank in case of 
disturbances. Smiling to myself I listen to their conversation the common elvish easily 
understood to me unlike the language Legolas had preferred to talk to Elrond and 
Glorfindel in. 

“I can not believe you said that to his face Legolas, the reaction was priceless.” The 
three elves chuckle amongst themselves and I consciously blush knowing exactly the 
event of which they speak. Legolas jumps to another rock along the edge of the 
stream his keen eyes still searching for intruders and disturbance even as he jokes 
with the two brothers in the water. 

“I can not believe it either Elladan, I felt sure he would physically harm me if the 
innocents of the hobbits and Arwen were not present. I know rangers enough to know 
their temper is on but a shortness of thread.” The trio giggle furiously and I clench my 
fists in anger aware of their making fun of me. Confusion also takes precedent, I was 
not aware that wood elves concerned themselves as closely as has been suggested 
with rangers of the wild.  

“Well never let it be said that the princeling of Mirkwood can not hold his own in a 
battle of the tongues.” Elrohir squeals as Legolas swats him easily across the ears at 
calling him again a princeling. 

“Well I think this part of the forest is quiet of unnatural movement.” Purposefully 
Legolas takes one full turn of the streams edge and I remain deathly still as he seems 
to stare straight at my position. However he does not see me as he turns and looks 
down at the brothers now treading water at his feet. “Now is it not time I had my turn 
in the water?” Both brothers nod in agreement and I watch enthralled as Legolas 
unclips his quiver and slowly begins to undress. With each layer of cloth that he 
removes from his body I become more fascinated. I feel like a child at my birth 
celebration unwrapping the rarest of gifts. My breath catches in my throat as Legolas 
removes his leggings and tosses them casually onto the pile by the side of the stream. 
The beauty that radiates from his unblemished skin is amazing. Each muscular curve 
accentuates the shapely figure of the warrior status he currently holds. The broad 
shoulders of a true archer taper perfectly to a well defined abdomen and a tight 
rounded rear. Finally he stretches and turns to once more look around him in case he 
has overlooked a threat. My heart stops in an instant as my eyes focus in on his 
member lying casually between his legs. The image of the naked elf before me lasts 
only a few moments before he launches himself into the water and disappears in a 
delicate spray of droplets. When he surfaces my gaze fixates on the ripples of water 
that run down his golden body as he pushes his wet hair back from his face. An 
uncomfortable tightness has grown in my own breeches and I consciously make an 
effort not to move and give away my position despite the uncomfortable situation in 
my pants. 

      For a moment I close my eyes and concentrate on calming myself down before 
I open my eyes and re concentrate on their conversation. Legolas now floats easily 
near the edge of the stream, Elladan and Elrohir paddling to and fro in front of him. 

“So tell us Legolas what is it like embracing another man?” I smile at the cheekiness 
of Elladan as he splashes Legolas playfully and is reward by a thorough dunking by 
his elder brother. Legolas laughs and shrugs his shoulders. 

“Like embracing a woman I imagine, only with other areas of interest.” The three 
chuckle at Legolas crude reply, a world of seeming experience balanced in his tone. 

“So you have not bedded a woman?” Elrohir asks stunned as Legolas begins 
splashing water over himself to cool his body in the warming sun. I see again as 
Legolas shrugs unphased by such personal questions. 

“I have had no need. Experiments with men are far safer than dallying with women, 
besides they do not take my interest, like I keep telling my father.” A bitterness 
escapes Legolas calmed expression and I understand its basis considering Gandalf’s 
story. There is silence for a moment and I wonder where the questions will continue if 
at all. I am stunned however at the question that escapes Elrohir’s mouth next. 

“Are you going to tell us then Legolas, just how long you have loved this Ranger?” 
Before Legolas can reply movement in the trees on the far side of the stream sends all 
three elves to their weapons and I myself to rest my hand on the hilt of my sword, 
ready for action should it be necessary. These are times that nowhere is safe even the 
havens of elvish forests. The tension is thick as we all remain still and poised for 
action however it recedes instantly as a familiar figure emerges from the trees on 
horse back. 

“Away from your weapons, it is only me.” I see Legolas physically relax, his previous 
highly strung muscles relaxing again as he slips both daggers back into their leather 
holdings amongst the pile of his clothes. 

“Elebreth! Glorfindel you have us worried.” Legolas address the elf with mock anger 
as his exits the water and begins to dress again. Glorfindel laughs and dismounts to 
stand respectfully with his back to the company as they continue to dress.

“My apologies Green leaf for disrupting your swim, I have come in search of Estel.” 
At the mention of my name Legolas pauses in his dressing and stares at Glorfindel 
who has senses the uneasy silence and has turned to face the youngsters. 

“Why would you presume him to be in our company?” The sharp tone of Legolas’ 
question makes me shiver and instinctively I being to quietly inch myself backwards 
away from the stream. I have disgraced myself already last night without being 
discovered eaves dropping again. 

“Only that I spotted his steed a little way down the path nearby have you not seen 
him?” Panic sets in at my discovery and I turn without thinking to run. In my frenzy 
to escape I stumble and create a flustered noise. Before I have even time to realise 
what I have done the hum of an elven bow echoes in my ears followed swiftly by a 
searing pain in my left shoulder. The force of the impact sends me to my knees in 
agony. Unable to contain my agony I cry out like a wounded animal and clutch 
desperately to the wooden shaft now protruding from my skin. My body is shaking 
with shock as the sound of even feet come running towards me. Closing my eyes 
against the tears now threatening to form I hide my humiliation as four figures stop 
instantly at the site of me. 

“Aragorn!” Upon shock recognition of my Glorfindel and Legolas fall to their knees 
beside me. My breathing is staggered as I glance fearfully up at the pair of eyes that 
stare at me. The horror of reality spreads across Legolas face as his steely blue eyes 
meet my own. I wince as he lifts a hand and shakily covers the bleeding silver tip that 
is just protruding from the front of my tunic. 

“You fool Estel. YOU FOOL!” He screams at me helplessly as panic begins to set in 
at knowing that the arrow has quite literally skewered me right through. In agony I 
scream back in incoherent words as Glorfindel braces himself against my back and 
brutally tugs the arrow from my body. I see all three of the faces in front of me 
physically wince as Glorfindel tosses the bloodied broken arrow to the side and 
quickly applies pressure to both entry and exit points in my body as they being to 
bleed uncontrollably. 

“Elladan, Elrohir ride swiftly back to the house, alert the healers and Elrond. Ready a 
bed and we will ride on behind you as quick as we can. Go with speed.” At 
Glorfindel’s calm command the brothers disappear. The world grows darker as 
breathing becomes difficult for me. “Hold his wounds tightly I will get the horses.” I 
feel myself being past from Glorfindel’s embrace to Legolas’. Unable to focus any 
longer on the world around me I fall easily into Legolas embrace his hands fiercely 
holding my wounds even as they continue to bleed. In this closer proximity I can hear 
his whispered prayers, I can smell his woodland scent and I can feel his fear as he 
struggles not to shake. Finally the pain becomes to much and I slowly close my eyes 
and allow calm to wash over me as darkness envelopes me in it’s arms. 

TBC…….


Chapter 5

I awake in a sweat only to have a cold damp cloth placed 
gently against my forehead.

“Shhh, be still Estel, I am with you.” The warm elven voice 
that whispers soothingly to me is instantly recognizable as 
Glorfindel’s. His soft hand comes to rest against my cheek 
and I nuzzle comfortably into it relishing the stability it 
provides. My shoulder throbs mercilessly, although the 
searing pain I first knew has gone. Slowly I open my eyes 
and smile weakly at the elf hovering above me. Glorfindel 
snorts indignantly at my determination to recover as he 
reaches for a glass of water on the table. Gently he helps 
me sit before allowing me to sip easily from the glass. My 
throat feels as if it has not been used for a century. 
Still weak and frail I rest quickly back against the soft 
bedding watching quietly as the elder fusses around the 
room collecting discarded cloths and opening the windows.  
The breeze that hits my face from the open balcony window 
is refreshing and I close my eyes in comfort of the fresh 
air that reaches my constricted lungs. In the now 
illuminated room I note its décor as one I have never seen 
before. It is created in deep purples and green’s the 
wooden furniture nothing like the stone furniture of the 
other rooms. Each piece seemingly carved for a singular 
intended person. Glorfindel comes and sits back at my side 
once again dampening the cloth upon my forehead.

”Whose room is this? I have never seen it before.” My voice 
is a croak more than anything as I struggle to get the 
words out around my unused airways. Glorfindel smiles sadly 
as he too glances around at the room. For a moment I think 
that he will not answer me but eventually he turns back to 
me his hand coming to rest upon mine.
“It’s is the Prince of Mirkwood’s chambers.” He pauses 
purposefully before cautiously glancing down to meet my 
understanding gaze. “Elrond had it furnished for Legolas to 
stay in when he was in Rivendell. It is sometimes 
inappropriate for quarters to be shared.” Glorfindel’s 
raised eyebrow is all I need to see, to know that Gandalf 
has informed him of my knowledge of Elrond and Legolas 
relationship.  Nodding easily I turn my attention back to 
the open balcony doors and concentrate on the sound of many 
voices laughing and cheering outside.
Interested on the activities I make to get up from bed only 
to have Glorfindel stare at me pointedly and gently push me 
back against the bedding. “You are still unwell Estel, you 
must rest if the infection is to be cured quickly.” I sigh 
heavily and stare longingly at the open balcony doors only 
to have Glorfindel chuckle at my defiance to stay still

“What are they doing outside? I did not know there was a 
festival at this time of year.” Rising from the bed 
Glorfindel shakes his head warmly before moving over to 
collect the now empty glass of water and the pitcher.

“No it is an archery contest, organised to brighten the 
spirits of Rivendell’s people in this time of worry. It is 
good exercise and provides a welcome distraction to those 
who will depart from us when you are well again.” Nodding I 
turn over wincing painfully as I catch my wound on the 
silky elvish spun sheets.

“I am sure the prince of Mirkwood has broken all 
competition, his keen sight with an arrow far exceeds any I 
have ever seen.” Uncomfortably I run my hand over the thick 
bandaging on my shoulder, remembering the agony upon the 
arrow’s first piercing tear. Although my comment was made 
in jest Glorfindel doesn’t find it funny and I lower my 
head as he turns to glare at me.

“Mind your tongue Estel or you may feel the sting of my own 
arrow after pulling such a foolish stunt.” Swallowing hard 
I close my eyes in regrettable silence as Glorfindel makes 
his way towards the entrance to the chamber. “The prince is 
not among the archers he is in consultation with Gandalf 
and Elrond on a most serious matter.” Nodding I sigh and 
snuggle back into my covers, suddenly feeling as if a child 
again under Glorfindel’s chastising gaze. “Arwen is in the 
library, I will allow her to see you, if you will not exert 
yourself unnecessarily.” Smiling happily I nod with 
enthusiasm, the warming face of my fair betrothed is just 
what I would like. “Very well, I will return shortly with 
some soup from the kitchens, your body needs nourishment.” 
With that he disappears out of the room his robe flowing 
easily around him seeming as if he were floating.

	It is only a few moments before Arwen appears in the 
doorway her smile instantly lighting the dullness of the 
room. Hesitantly she pauses unsure of whether to enter but 
at my gesture she quickly sits upon the edge of my bed.

”Estel, I am glad you have woken.” Leaning over me she 
gently kisses my lips lingering just enough for me to 
inhale her beautiful scent before pulling back.
Softly I reach up and brush the intricately braided strand 
of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek softly. I 
watch as her eyes follow my chest to pause on the bandage 
on my shoulder, her eyes alone telling me of her fear of 
losing me.

”I am glad that you have come to see me.” Smiling she 
removes her gaze from my wound to train them back upon my 
face.

“Glorfindel was good to allow me, father has forbidden any 
visitors to you except for Glorfindel who is tending your 
wounds.” Before any more can be said an uproarious applause 
interrupts our conversation from outside. We both chuckle 
to ourselves at the sound before I turn back to Arwen. “The 
competition seems to be in heated progression, although the 
absence of the Prince of Mirkwood’s talent is sorely 
missed.” Confusion is evident on my features as Arwen turns 
back to me from her sad gaze out of the window. “Did 
Glorfindel not tell you what has happened?” A worry rises 
swiftly within me at Arwen’s sudden seriousness and I move 
to gently prop myself up on an elbow in order to hear her 
better.

“No he did not. What has happened Arwen, where is Legolas?” 
I watch as she sighs before cautiously glancing up towards 
the open doorway unsure whether to speak or not. Finally 
she moves closer to me and rests her hand against my own.

”I do not know if I should say but King Thranduil arrived 
unannounced in the early evening of yesterday, with his two 
eldest sons and councillors.” I urge Arwen to continue sure 
now that things are not all well as Glorfindel had made 
out. Once again Arwen glances behind her at the open door 
before continuing in a whispered voice. “I have heard that 
Legolas refuses a wife his father has secured for him. 
Thranduil has refused Legolas’s leave with the fellowship 
and declares that Legolas’s brothers will accompany the 
fellowship in his place.” My breath is caught in my throat 
as I consider this turn of events. There is no possible way 
that Legolas can be replaced with his brothers it has 
already been decided by the will of the council. Arwen 
continues hastily as footsteps are heard in the corridor 
outside. “Legolas has confessed he loves another, his 
father is furious.” Expecting to hear Elrond’s name enter 
the conversation or mine, I am unprepared for the name that 
passes my beloved’s lips. “He has confessed a love for the 
steward of Gondor, a love for Boromir.”

“What!” Unable to suppress my surprise I sit sharply up 
from the bed, my shoulder forgotten until the agonizing 
pain tears a scream from my body. I fall back helplessly to 
the bed, clutching my shoulder and wreathing about like a 
contortionist. Arwen screams frantically in Elvish for her 
father and Glorfindel as she too goes to clutch my 
shoulder, blood already beginning to seep through the 
bandage again. It is only a matter of moments before Elrond 
runs into the room, Legolas, Gandalf and Glorfindel 
following him in. Gandalf is quick to escort a grief 
stricken Arwen from the room, leaving Legolas and 
Glorfindel to hold me down as Elrond thoroughly inspects my 
now open wound.

“I see a slither of blade, it must have broken off against 
the bone when the arrow was first pulled free, it is 
causing the infection and must be removed.” I hear Elrond 
address the others who have lessoned their grip upon me as 
I calm myself to the pain now throbbing through my 
shoulder. Elrond looks sympathetically down at me before 
sending Glorfindel to fetch the healers while he himself 
disappears to check on his distressed daughter. There is an 
awkward silence as Legolas stands from the edge of the bed 
and moves quietly over to the open window without meeting 
my eye contact. My breathing is still quiet erratic and it 
echo’s terribly in the silence that now hangs between us.

“I am sorry Estel, I have cause you pain and made things 
more difficult for the fellowship. I should not have 
volunteered for the journey knowing that I jeopardise its 
success with my situation.” I am stunned as Legolas lowers 
his shoulders and turns regretfully back to me his eyes 
brimming with tears as he meets my gaze. “Will you never 
forgive me such foolishness?” His voice trails off to 
nothing and I find myself feeling painfully guilty all of a 
sudden. Slowly I breathe out and I pause for a moment 
before speaking, the apology I meant to give on that 
fateful day finally coming free of my mouth.

“I’ve heard only fool described of men. Elves are neither 
foolish nor rash in matters of importance, as my wound is 
testament.” I watch as Legolas slowly raises his head, the 
long golden braids hiding his features as a curtain against 
expressing his emotion. “I have often heard rumours of 
elves from the forest being cautious in matters of the 
heart and both cruel and cold in their self punishment for 
mistakes.” For a moment confusion flashes in Legolas face 
and I find myself enjoying the expressions of his features 
that previously at the council were non-existent. “You have 
my forgiveness Legolas Greenleaf, if only that I prevent 
you from wounding yourself for a situation that was born 
from my own foolish actions.” At my words Legolas looks up 
at me sharply having not expected my own admittance to 
guilt. “I should not have doubted your intentions for the 
fellowship and I had no right to invade your privacy by 
spying. Shall you ever forgive me Greenleaf?” We continue 
to stare at each other for a long time the silence so thick 
that not even the wilderness outside can penetrate it.
I take my time to fully appreciate the delicate lines of 
his face and explore the beauty of him. He is far prettier 
than any male elf I have ever met. I watch as he blushes 
lightly under my scrutiny and for the first time I see a 
real depth of emotion behind his deep blue eyes. It is only 
there for a fleeting moment before it is gone as Glorfindel 
returns to the chamber with the healer, Elrond and of all 
people King Thranduil.

King Thranduil is a large elf, taller than Legolas and more 
solidly built than Glorfindel. He wears stately robes and a 
mitheral band of gold upon his crown a sure acknowledgement 
of his status. I ignore Glorfindel as he begins undressing 
my wound and watch as Legolas and his father stare at each 
other. There is nothing friendly about the gaze that the 
king of Mirkwood throws contemptibly in my direction before 
snorting in disgust. Thranduil address his son in a harsh 
booming voice, his elvish that of the older times that 
Legolas uses when addressing Glorfindel and Elrond. I do 
not understand what he says but from the reaction of 
Legolas it is obviously as scorning as it sounded.

“If it so ashamedly disgusts you, then you may leave. I 
shall marry who I feel I can commit fully to for life and 
nothing less.” Glorfindel and the healer stop work on my 
shoulder as Legolas growls crudely at his father. It is a 
tone none of us would have expected to hear from the 
innocent beauty of Legolas. The room falls silent as 
Legolas straightens himself the warrior inside of him 
breaking free of the surface as he clenches his fists at 
his side. “I am going as part of the fellowship to Mordor 
for unlike your own selfish desires I have a duty to 
protect the people of Mirkwood. I will not make the same 
mistakes you have done through your blind hatred. Aragon is 
a friend as are the others and I beg you not insult them in 
my presence again.” The rage on Thranduil’s face is 
terrifying as his son takes several paces forward to come 
within inches of his father’s body. “You have ruined my 
love once father but you shall not do it again. Go home to 
Mirkwood, you disgrace me in front of my friends and in 
turn our people by your childish grudge.” I find myself 
staring open mouthed as Thranduil glances away from his son 
and stares at Elrond who is standing shocked at the foot of 
my bed.

“You have done this to him. You took his innocents as a 
child and corrupted his mind against his own family.” 
Thranduil spits hastily at Elrond who backs purposefully 
away as Glorfindel steps between the approaching King and 
his lord.
“Well let it be upon your head then as I expel him from my 
house.” I watch helplessly as Legolas takes the full force 
of his father’s backhand sending him reeling into the 
dresser where he staggers to maintain his footing after the 
warrior’s heavy blow. “I have no son other than those that 
reside in Mirkwood, you are never welcome in my house 
again.” Thranduil turns around slowly and stares at Elrond 
with a menacing glare.  “Consider the ties between 
Rivendell and Mirkwood as finished. Your treachery to our 
family and people will not be forgotten.” With one last 
glance at his son Thranduil hastily turns and leaves the 
room. The silence is broken only by the strangled sob of 
Legolas as he sinks helplessly to the floor and into a 
shaking mess. Instantly Elrond is at his side clutching 
Legolas’s frail body against his own in desperate comfort. 
Anger seems to take precedent over Elrond’s feelings as he 
glances up to Glorfindel.

”Take the guardians, see that Mirkwood’s company is 
escorted to the boarders of Rivendell. I wish a watch to be 
taken; any of Thranduil’s men that return to the boarders 
of Imaldris are to be shot as enemy and brought to my 
feet.” Elrond rises to his feet Legolas in his arms, as he 
turns and moves hastily from the room. Glorfindel sighs and 
turns back to me before instructing the healer to continue 
my treatment and that he will return once the guardians are 
assembled and have their orders. To my horror I have just 
witnessed the birth of enemies and the splitting of what 
remains of the last alliance. Closing my eyes I grit my 
teeth as the healer begins work in silence on my shoulder. 
This day is grievous indeed and I am guilty of partly being 
to blame. Sadly I allow darkness to envelope me, thoughts 
of the quest to destroy the ring, of Legolas’s confession 
of love for Boromir and of my own reluctance to accept my 
birthright, all plague me as I sleep restlessly and in 
pain.

TBC……………………


Chapter 6

The cold westerly wind stings as it brushes over my face 
and instinctively I pull my coat tighter around me. Below 
in the sheltered cove I watch as Boromir teaches the three 
young hobbits the finer points of swordsmanship. Their 
childish laughter soothing my soul and helping me decipher 
the seriousness of what is to come. The dwarf Gimli and 
hobbit Samwise debate good-naturedly over the making of a 
good meal, their banter relentless each as stubborn as the 
other. Gandalf sits quietly under a small rocky outcrop 
smoking his pipe, his wizened face betraying his dreary 
thoughts as he considers our road ahead. It has been at 
least 7 weeks since we last passed the boarders of 
Rivendell and several more still since Legolas has taken 
rest. I have been becoming increasingly concerned for the 
elf. He has become immoveable in his continued safety for 
the fellowship, not taking time for himself unless Gandalf 
orders him to do so. I have not been witness to an elf so 
determined to conquer all barriers as I have seen Legolas. 
The confrontation with his father has changed him and I am 
not certain whether it is for the better.

A cry from a wounded hobbit draws my attention back from my 
distant gaze to watch as Frodo and Merry attack the Steward 
of Gondor who has quite unintentionally stepped on Pippin’s 
feet. I laugh to myself as the four of them roll heavily 
upon the grass, the seriousness of defensive strategies in 
battle forgotten for a moment as playful exchanges take 
precedent. In the wind my nose picks up the sweet smell of 
warm broth and I turn to step down off the rock, my stomach 
growling in hunger. Down in the small-protected dell we 
have chosen for camp tonight I find Boromir, Gandalf and 
the other hobbits already seated around the fire supping on 
Sam’s well-cooked meal. I take a moment to glance at Frodo, 
his health and well being my greatest concern. When he 
smiles at me and continues his conversation with Sam and 
Gimli I take the offered bowl of broth and morsel of bread 
from Pippin before perching next to Gandalf leaning back 
against the rock face.

“Where is Legolas?” Noting the elf’s absence I question the 
others rather abruptly. I watch as all of them look around 
seemingly as if only to notice now of the young elf’s 
disappearance. I go to abruptly stand up my instincts for 
danger alarming me into action, however Gandalf lays a 
comforting hand on my shoulder and points easily over to 
the line of trees a few metres away. I sigh heavily as a 
familiar lean figure emerges from the shadows. Reluctantly 
I settle back to my meal, my anger at him, cooled somewhat 
by Gandalf’s stern gaze. Legolas joins us and sits cross 
legged next to Boromir who moves easily across to make room 
for him. I raise an eyebrow as I watch the exchange between 
them as Boromir passes Legolas a small bowl of soup. It 
seems since Legolas scene with his father that his supposed 
confession of love for the Steward of Gondor has been 
forgotten. I alone have contemplated it continually since 
hearing of it, as well as what I had overheard at the 
stream on that fateful day. We sit in silence for a long 
time our hunger from the day’s journey forcing itself into 
priority over idol conversation. I take curious glances at 
Legolas every now and then, between checking that Frodo was 
eating as much as he should.

It is late when the hobbits finally settle down into 
slumber under the watchful gaze of Gandalf. Gimli is 
snoring, the sound piecing the peaceful silence with 
thunderous snorts. Boromir is taking first watch while I 
recline easily against the tree trunk and light up my pipe 
weed. Legolas is still sitting cross-legged by the fire his 
blanket draped over his shoulders. In the firelight I can 
see the glow of his profile as he leans forward to get 
closer to it’s heat. His features are perfect, the pale, 
illuminesent skin stretched carefully over his high 
cheekbones, his slender nose and his perfectly tapered 
chin. Unconsciously I lick my lips my mouth suddenly dry as 
I watch Legolas lean back from the fire and lift a small 
skin of water to his mouth. My breath seems to falter of 
it’s own accord as I watch the lump rise and fall in 
Legolas neck as he drinks. When he pulls the water skin 
away, his lips glisten with moisture and I cannot help but 
imagine what it would be like to feel them against my own. 
A coughing startles me from my adoring gaze and I catch up 
with the image as I see Legolas slump over slightly and 
cough with a frighteningly unhealthy bark for a self 
healing elf. Rising from my seat I walk swiftly over to the 
prince and place a comforting hand upon his shoulder 
feeling him tense instantly under my touch.

“You do not sound well.” When the coughing has stopped I 
sit down next to Legolas as he pulls the blanket further 
around his shoulders.

“It is nothing. Just soreness from being around those of 
you who smoke those dratted pipe things far too much.” I 
laugh at his accusing nod towards my pipe that sits 
balanced between my lips. Smoking is a tradition not 
practised by elves and I know that extended exposure to the 
smoke of one not used to it, can cause irritation of the 
eyes and throat. Reluctantly I dampen out my smouldering 
pipe for the benefit of the elf. Reaching to my pack I 
remove a small vial of honey and hand it to the elf. He 
looks at it cautiously and sniffs it wearily unsure of its 
contents.

“It is medicinal honey Legolas, I will not poison you. Take 
it, it will sooth the irritation.” Nodding he swiftly 
swallows the contents and hands the empty vial back for me 
to return to my bag. I watch as he licks his lips in 
satisfaction of the sweet taste before sighing and 
snuggling in further to his blanket. He is like a child 
despite his warrior like appearance.  I catch him staring 
intently at me sideways in the firelight and I watch as he 
blushes and turns away.

“It is as if you have never seen my face before Legolas, 
what is wrong have I left remains of my supper in my 
whiskers.” Consciously I stroke my rough short beared, 
making him chuckle lightly at my vanity. The smile that 
graces his face has long been absent since we left 
Rivendell and I rejoice in bringing it back if only for a 
moment to light up his features. He shakes his head at my 
question before shuffling back onto his bedroll and lying 
down sideways in an effort to remain facing the fire, his 
eyes reflecting it’s flickering dance as he stares at it. 
In the silence that follows between us I find myself once 
again running over the events that passed at Rivendell and 
all that I have learned of the young elf. I am exceedingly 
curious to know just why exactly Legolas had confessed his 
love of Boromir and of the truth behind it.

“The land is quiet tonight, I scouted earlier and there 
were no signs of untoward activity. We should savour the 
peace while we have it.” A hardness has returned to Legolas 
features as he speaks softly of our journey, his eyes 
showing no emotion just as they did at the council. I nod 
quietly and tuck my hands into my coat as a wind whistles 
coldly around us. A twinge of pain creases across my 
shoulder as I shiver with cold and I instinctively reach up 
to clutch at it, my breath staggering for a moment before 
returning to normal. My exterior wound has healed well but 
the internal weakness it has left in my shoulder is trying 
when I am unrested. My discomfort is not missed by Legolas 
who sits up slightly and stares at me sympathetically. “I 
thought Glorfindel said your wound had healed fully, why is 
that you are in pain again?”

“It is nothing but a stiffness that has come with little 
use. It will lesson as I swing my sword a few times.” 
Legolas accepts my explanation although suspiciously as he 
lies back down on his bedding. Once again we fall into 
silence and I find myself once again hopelessly wanting to 
know about Legolas’ love. Steeling myself into the resolve 
of asking him, I straighten my back and glance at him as 
calmly as I can.

”Legolas?” I grab his attention from the firelight and he 
tilts his head to the side in question. Taking a small 
breath of fresh air I continue quite bluntly and a little 
harsher than I mean to. “Why did you confess to your father 
a love for Boromir?” Panic seems to wash over Legolas’ body 
as he stiffens and glances over to where the hobbits are 
all curled together asleep. He swallows hard and turns back 
to me when he’s satisfied both the hobbits, Gandalf and 
Gimli are out of hearing range if any of them should wake.

“You have no such permission to ask that of me.” Legolas 
glares at me as he goes to stand up and move hastily away 
but I grasp for his hand and hold him firmly in place on 
his bedding. The anger I see in his eyes makes me shiver a 
little as he brutally tugs his hand free and shuffles 
ungracefully further from my reach.

“Come Legolas we have no secrets between us all, if there 
is potential for this love to interfere with what we set 
out to accomplish I wish to know about it.”
Legolas grunts contemptibly much like a dwarf would do in a 
huff. His steely blue eyes look wild in the firelight as he 
sneers at me and shakes his head.

“What do you wish of me Estel? To revenge the sting of my 
arrow, for I believe I already apologised for that and have 
received your forgiveness. You have interrupted my privacy 
twice already with your nosiness and now you ask this of 
me, you are insatiable.” He pauses in his harsh whisper and 
I instantly regret ever bringing up the subject. He is 
right I have invaded his privacy far too much already 
without asking this of him. I go to apologise but he raises 
a hand to stop me his eyes reflecting betrayal. “It is 
true, I no more desire Boromir than the dwarf Gimli but 
considering the situation I said what was going to cause 
the less hurt to all involved. I acted how I felt best 
suited the moment and if you are done Ranger, having 
humiliated and discovered my secrets, I would beg of you to 
speak to me no more of matters that don’t directly concern 
the success of this journey and that you leave me be to 
gain peace in solitude.” A cold shiver runs the length of 
my spine at the sharpness of Legolas words as he spat out 
the word Ranger in disgust before turning over with his 
back to me and covering himself in the blanket. I sigh 
heavily and lower my gaze to the thin blades of grass I 
have been twisting between my fingers. The bright green has 
stained my palms and I wipe them consciously upon my coat. 
There is movement across the other side of the fire and I 
glance up to watch Gandalf shake his head at me in 
frustration.

Rising slowly to my feet, I saunter back over to my own 
bedding, feeling as if I were once again a naughty child 
before I lie down and fall quietly into unrested slumber. I 
shall find no rest upon this journey what with my instincts 
telling me to act one way while rationality screams at me 
to act in another. My inner turmoil may be the downfall of 
the fellowship but I shall not let that happen. Legolas is 
a creature that confusion goes beyond describing and I will 
not trouble myself with him again until our task is 
complete.

TBC……………………..


Chapter 7

Devastation of Gandalf’s loss has affected us all. I have 
tried to keep us together moving us on quickly to the 
boarders of Lothlorien but instead I have only created a 
hatred towards me from those that think me cold hearted. 
Frodo has grown suddenly weak the wizards emotional 
relationship with the little one causing the loss to be far 
greater in him than most of us. I have never seen tears 
flow so freely as from the hobbits as we sit precariously 
exposed on the outer edges of Lothlorien’s canopy. We must 
not linger so exposed in the daylight but Boromir’s 
growling remarks towards my lack of sympathy have stayed my 
arguments despite my concern. Standing from Frodo’s side 
after offering what comfort I can in mere words I glance 
around and make a headcount. Boromir cuddles Pippin and 
Merry to his side as both weep openly, Sam is curled up in
Frodo’s lap his own shivering the only sign of his grief. 
The dwarf Gimli is pacing gruffly back and forth between 
two trees as he mutters his anger. My attention does not 
stay upon the dwarf for long, instead being drawn however 
to a tree a few yards apart from us.

Legolas stands immobile staring into space, his bow hanging 
limply in his hand at his side. His face is devoid of any 
emotion, his pale skin suddenly lacking its normally warm 
radiant glow. I sigh heavily; Legolas grew up with tales of 
the great Gandalf the Grey as did many of us. Even though 
he does not show it I see his pain and although I have 
respected his wishes so far as to not discuss anything with 
him aside from what concerns the fellowship directly I 
suddenly feel the need to comfort him. I make to move 
towards him but stop mid step as the silver glittering of 
an arrows point appears before me. Unmoving I glance around 
to see my fellow companions in much the same predicament, 
elven archers braced steadily around us should any of us 
move. Glancing across to Legolas I see that only he had 
seen them coming and although having an arrow notched and 
drawn back ready to fire is far out numbered by the 
Lothlorien elves and concedes defeat by lowering his bow.

“Haldir, of Lothlorien. We seek shelter in the wood by your 
ladies grace.” A tall stoic elf appears in front of me his 
appearance much the same as Legolas’ despite the regal 
Lorien dress of a distinguished guardian of the wood. I 
address him in common elvish bowing to a respectable level 
before watching as he glances back towards where Gimli is 
spouting stupidly about us retreating. For the first time 
on our journey I curse the dwarfs loud mouth as Haldir 
turns back to me and raises a curious but disgusted eyebrow 
in obvious reply to the dwarf accompanying us.

“You will follow us, the lady is awaiting your arrival.” I 
watch as Haldir turns from me and glances towards Legolas 
who stands almost awe struck staring at Haldir. For a 
moment they stare at one another before a wide smile breaks 
loose onto his face only to be mirrored in like upon 
Haldir’s. Immediately Haldir waves away the guardians 
surrounding Legolas, who takes the opportunity to clasp 
Haldir’s wrist in a warriors vice like greeting. It seems 
they are old friends. The speak quietly to one another in 
the older tongue and I become exceedingly uncomfortable at 
not knowing what they are saying.

“Aragorn these woods are perilous, we should not trust such 
elves enchanted by devilry.” I curse to myself at Gimli’s 
worried banter as more elven bows are aimed upon him at the 
insult. Haldir ceases his lighthearted conversation with 
Legolas to glare at the dwarf with utter disgust.

“I would mind your tongue master dwarf for it should be 
ripped from your mouth if you speak again.” Immediately 
Gimli closes his mouth allowing another insult to fall 
unheard from his lips as Haldir turns back to me and 
gestures towards the wood. “Come let us not tarry, there 
are foreigners that lurk on the edges of the wood after 
nightfall.” Bowing my head in understanding I help the 
still distressed hobbits to their feet before following 
Haldir and Legolas who are chatting quietly in elder elvish 
in the lead. Boromir lingers with Gimli at the back of our 
party, the dwarf still being guarded with keen eyes of 
suspicious guardians. Hopefully we will find rest for a 
while under Lorien’s canopy to allow the hobbits to grieve 
and have time to relax and in turn will allow me time to 
contemplate the great weight that has now fallen upon my 
shoulders at the loss of Gandalf.

	I lie silently staring up into the forest canopy 
swilling the remains of the rose petal wine at the bottom 
of my chalice. In the distance sweet elvish voices sing a 
lament to Mithrandir. The haunting lyrics are unfamiliar 
but the depth of grieving that has fallen like a veil over 
Lorien seems to be contained within them. The hobbits are 
much confined to their small tent on the ground. Hobbits 
are not fond of high places at the best of times without 
their present state of grieving to add to their discomfort. 
Gimli has been the sole of discretion with his words, not 
speaking lest someone inquires of him after Haldir’s 
warning. Boromir I believe is at unease after earlier 
confessing an ill feeling of the wood and it’s whispered 
words, however I will not be caressed into moving on before 
the time is right. For we are safe here for the moment and 
we must allow ourselves such a small reprieve from the 
toils of the journey. The one person I have not seen for 
more than a few mere moments put together is Legolas. 
Although it should not surprise me he has spent most of his 
time with the guardians and more particularly Haldir. He 
has hardly spoke two words in the common tongue to any of 
us, except Frodo who he seems to favour above the rest of 
us at this present time. It is infuriating to not have his 
undivided attention to the fellowship but I have bitten my 
tongue in chastising him so, in case his deliberate 
separation from us is so he may grieve privately with his 
own people for the loss of Gandalf.

Closing my eyes I let the sounds of the wood envelope me 
into sweet relaxation. There is no use dwelling on things 
that have happened and things that might be. Instead of my 
morbid thoughts of Gandalf and my exile from my heritage, I 
find myself drawn to certain images of Legolas from our 
journey. The most prevalent that stays in my mind is the 
hint of a blush that crept to the tips of his ears when we 
sat side by side waiting for Gandalf’s directions in Moria. 
I had not said anything and nor had he, it seemed the 
silence caused him embarrassment but it was a welcome 
change from the stoic exterior he’d portrayed up until 
then. Once again I question my thoughts I should be 
thinking of Arwen at this time instead of an elf that cares 
little for me. My solitude is broken as the hurried patter 
of feet upon the ground becomes apparent. I open my eyes 
and sit up, concerned somewhat as Sam stops and attempts to 
catch his breath in front of me.

“Mr Strider……I….we….Pippin……Legolas…….contest.” Between his 
panting Sam’s words are mere gibberish and I place a 
concerned hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm his 
flustered manner.

“Try it again Sam.” Sam takes a deep breath and swallows 
before pointing in the direction from which he has just run 
from.

“Mr Strider you must come quickly. Pippin has bet Legolas’ 
reputation and his own in a stupid contest of archery 
between Legolas and the Guardians, without Legolas consent. 
He is furious and threatens Pippin’s life.”  Heavily I sigh 
at the stupidity of the meddlesome Peregrin Took, his 
antics the cause for much concern. With an insistent tug on 
my tunic from Sam I rise to my feet and follow his lead. 
This will certainly not be an uneventful evening.

	The scene that I arrive to is that of complete 
chaos. There is a sea of gathered onlookers, of those 
including the lady of the wood and her husband who watch 
with keen interest from a balcony above the archery field. 
Pushing my way to the front of the crowd I sigh as I watch 
Pippin dragging a very reluctant and angry looking Legolas 
towards where three guardians of the wood stand in the 
centre of the field. Not surprisingly Merry is following 
close behind clutching Legolas’s bow, quiver and hunting 
leathers, all items relatively larger than the young 
hobbit.

“Eye’, may this contest be ended peacefully.” My muttered 
prayer to the valar does not go unnoticed by Boromir who 
huffs contemptibly at my side.

“That is not all you should pray for Aragorn, for if 
Legolas looses he will be but a little disgruntled with 
Pippin. May we pray for Pippin’s safety after the contest 
instead.” Nodding understandingly I take a seat against a 
large tree root, with Gimli, Sam, Frodo and Boromir as a 
hushed silence falls over the crowd as a neutral judge 
begins reading out the terms of contest.

“Do you think he will win Aragorn?” Frodo looks at me 
hopefully well aware of what this contest might mean.

“I have confidence in the Prince’s talents, let us just 
watch and see.” Frodo accepts my answer although outwardly 
portraying confidence, on the inside I have serious doubts. 
While the youngest Prince of Mirkwood has the talents of an 
archer twice his years the Guardians of the wood have 
experience in wars of many an age, the odds are stacked 
firmly in their favour. To my own silent surprise I see 
Haldir standing off to the side observing proceedings but 
obviously not taking part. My curiosity for Legolas and 
Haldir’s friendship has continued to grow as I see more and 
more of them together and witness just how well they do 
actually get on for elves so vastly separated by many miles 
of land between their homes. Jealousy seems to rise for a 
moment within me for some reason but I quell it instantly. 
Such a preposterous notion will only make things difficult.
At the cheering of the crowd I draw my attention back to 
the field of play where several archers and Legolas are 
lining up to make their first shot. Legolas looks out of 
place to say the least amidst the contenders, the only fair 
haired one, among them, but the prettiest by far. Merry and 
Pippin are fusing around him as he continues to obviously 
protest. There is a clapping as the first archer releases 
his arrow with a deadly aim, it’s point just off centre of 
the closest target. I see Legolas physically cringe at the 
accuracy before turning back to Merry and Pippin to more 
firmly protest.

Along the line of archers the contest continues until at 
last it is Legolas’s turn. Already the arrows gone before 
him have been with the same accuracy of the first if not 
better. There is a hush from the crowd as Legolas swats 
away Merry and Pippin and notches an arrow upon the 
lightweight, handcrafted bow. The determination and 
concentration that immediately covers the anger he’d 
previous been directing to the hobbits is an amazing sight 
to behold. Instinctively I hold my breath as the high pitch 
hum of the bow echoes around the crowd. For a moment I’m 
taken back to the incident in Rivendell and I flinch 
instinctively waiting for the pain as it hits me but there 
is no pain. There is a unanimous gasp among the gathers and 
all of us stand and stare down the field at the target and 
what sight it will hold.

Chapter 8

“In two I tell ya, in two. Like it’d been sliced by a beam 
of sun light.” I chuckle quietly to myself as Pippin 
recounts the contests events despite everyone having seen 
it for themselves. Legolas’ arrow had the aim of precision 
only gifted to a small few. It quite literally spilt the 
others arrows in half, like they were nothing more than 
kindling. Dinner has been a celebration for the contest, 
and it’s participants. Legolas has taken the praise of his 
talents all quietly, bearing the well wishes with thankful 
smiles and countless handshakes. I can tell however that he 
is not comfortable with the attention, just like he was 
never comfortable with any of us calling him Prince Legolas 
Greenleaf. Music, laughter and dancing fills the halls and 
the warm evening outside as Lorien celebrate with joyous 
enthusiasm. Still my mind travels to the darker things of 
our continued journey at the fall of two days time. Seeking 
air I move out to a small-unoccupied balcony off the main 
banquet hall and lean against the stone banister to stare 
out over the twinkling lights of Lorien. It is a perfect 
night and it is hard to comprehend that beyond the safety 
of the wood lies in our path only evil and death.

A presence behind me startles me somewhat from my thoughts 
and I turn expecting to see one of the hobbits or Boromir, 
only I am surprised as Legolas comes to stand next to me on 
the balcony. Hiding my curiosity at the elf’s willingness 
to be alone with me I turn back and continue to look down 
upon Lorien. I find myself glancing across at him at every 
possible moment; his features are beautiful, from the 
delicately pointed ears to the high sculptured cheekbones 
and thick luscious lips. Like times before I am drawn to 
his glowing aura and I have to physically stop myself from 
reaching out to tuck a stray braid of golden hair back 
behind his ear from where it has fallen into his face.

“It is beautiful isn’t it?” My breath catches most 
unnaturally in my throat at his whispered words and I stop 
myself from replying with ‘yes you are’ in favour of 
nodding silently instead. “If I close my eyes I can almost 
imagine myself at home in Mirkwood.” I feel the meal I have 
just consumed turn nauseously in my stomach as my insides 
flutter at seeing Legolas close his eyes and inhale deeply. 
I can not believe I am having such a reaction to him but 
I’m beginning to think that I should listen to what my body 
is telling me rather than what discourse requires of me. 
After a moment Legolas sighs heavily and turns to face me 
and for the first time since telling me not to speak to 
him, he lowers his head and deliberately avoids eye contact 
with me. For the brief moment I stared into his blue eyes I 
saw a depth of fear that has been absent even from the 
council meeting in Rivendell. It is hard to comprehend the 
contradiction he portrays, such youthful bounty of beauty 
and inexperience against his 1600-year existence and 
knowledge of things I could never see or know about. Before 
I can say anything I realise I have been staring at him for 
a long time and he moves uncomfortably away from me. “Frodo 
is asking for you, he has retired to his chambers in some 
distress. Sam is with him but seems little help, and asks 
for your immediate assistance.” With that Legolas turns and 
hastily disappears back inside to the festivities. Pushing 
all thoughts of Legolas from my mind I replace them with 
concerns for Frodo and I turn hastily from the balcony and 
make my way towards the hobbits chambers on the woodland 
floor below.  Keeping the fellowship in tact and the ring 
bearer safe is the up most important. I will not fail 
Gandalf’s wish because of my internal personal questioning 
and thoughts.

	Wandering away from Frodo’s chambers I light my pipe 
in frustration. Frodo’s resilience to the ring of evil is 
wearing thin and I only pray that he will make it to Mordor 
before it claims his soul. The wood is now silent most 
elves asleep like the hobbits I have just left. A short 
walk to the left I see a lantern lit path running down the 
side of a babbling stream. It seems a likely place to find 
solace and comfort with the sound of the water. Unconscious 
of where it might lead I easily follow the path at a 
leisurely pace, taking in the nightly sounds and sights as 
I work over past events in my mind. As I travel further 
along the path elvish voices being to get louder amongst 
the woodland sounds around me. Curiosity pushes me onward, 
and the closer I get the more the sounds become 
decipherable as the drunken laughter of several elves. 
Drawing closer to the source of the laughter I move a 
little off the track as not to be seen as the path widens 
into a large, lantern lit, open lawn. There in a circlet 
sit twenty odd elves, on intricately carved stone chairs. 
To my astonishment among the dark haired elves sits 
welcomed a familiar fair-haired one. It looks to be a regal 
affair, all of them wearing robes of reflective silver blue 
and each drinking from silver chalices of a dark ruby red 
liquid. Legolas looks to be thoroughly enjoying himself as 
they chatter together in the elder elvish Legolas has used 
so frequently while we have been here in Lorien.

I go to move closer to see if I can hear more of their 
conversation but am stopped mid step as I feel a presence 
behind me. I curse myself for my nosiness of which has got 
me into trouble before now. Biting my lip I stand in defeat 
from my crouched position and turn to face my embarrassment 
and apologise. However the figure I see before me is quite 
unexpected. Galadrial raises an eyebrow cautiously in my 
direction before a small warming smile washes onto her 
face.

“You should not be here Estel, High Elves are particularly 
severe in punishing those who dare to intrude on their 
privacy. Come, let me walk with you to some place less 
obtrusive.” I am speechless as the Lady Galadrial links her 
arm gently with mine and leads me back down the path.

“I apologise I had no idea what lay down this path, I only 
sought solitude with the sound of the stream.” I bow low 
looking for forgiveness as we enter a small dell that is 
surrounded by fig trees. She nods acceptingly and sits 
easily down upon a small stone bench at the side of the 
stream and gestures for me to sit on the one opposite her. 
Unwilling to upset her I do so immediately and avoid eye 
contact for fear she will read my thoughts again. It is too 
late however as she picks out the source of my distress 
which underlies my priority of the fellowship.

“The Prince of Mirkwood has learned a great many things 
during his visits as a child to our realm, with his father. 
Haldir has taught him those traditions forgotten by the new 
generation. He is at home here as he is at Rivendell and is 
welcomed often to the gatherings of the elders.” I sigh 
heavily and glance away from the lady to stare down at the 
silver bubbling of the water. For a moment there is a 
silence before she begins to speak softly in elvish to me. 
“Do not deny the possibilities of the heart Aragorn. The 
Valar have but a determined path for us all and for us to 
be happy we must explore all options that present 
themselves until we find the one that was meant for us.” 
Nodding I tap out the remains of my pipe and slip it into 
my pocket before rising from the stone bench having heard 
the ladies words. I bow and move to leave but she catches 
my hand lightly in her own and draws my attention back to 
her. “I have seen a great many things. Legolas has a future 
far beyond what he sees for himself, as have you Elessar 
Telcontar.”  I am baffled by the unfamiliar name that the 
lady addresses me with but do not have time to question her 
as she bids me a good night and disappears from view down 
the path. Sighing to myself I turn and head quietly back 
towards my own chamber amongst the trees, weary and very 
much confused.

TBC……………………..


Chapter 9

The winding staircases between the trees chambers are quiet 
as I move swiftly through them towards my own allocated 
platform. They are not so much as rooms as large areas on 
the branches surrounded by thin walls of elven thatching. I 
pass several other rooms, including Boromir’s and Gimli’s, 
each room dark, their occupants fast asleep. I make my way 
quietly along another staircase but pause as I come to 
Legolas’s room. Inside I can hear soft whispers, the dim 
light of candles creating shadows on the walls. Intrigue 
becomes paramount and although I know I shouldn’t be 
listening I move closer to the slightly adjar door and 
concentrate my hearing upon the two distinct voices. 
Memories of the incidents at Rivendell once again haunt me 
and I falter in my hesitation to have a peek at the 
occupants inside, however my conscience is discarded as I 
hear the ruffling of bed sheets. Holding my breath I take a 
glance and gawk at the sight that confronts me. Legolas 
sits, dressed only in his leggings on the edge of the bed 
and Haldir kneels easily behind him in much the same state 
of undress. I’m utterly mesmerised as Haldir begins needing 
Legolas’ broad shoulders causing the blonde elf to roll his 
head back to rest against Haldir’s shoulder in utter 
relaxation. They speak softly to one another in the common 
elvish tongue and I listen eagerly to their conversation.

“You are beautiful Legolas as you well know, his attentions 
should be nothing more than a fancy of folly. If he can not 
see your beauty as many others do, then he is not worth the 
agonising stress you put yourself though.” Legolas sighs 
heavily and I watch as he begins to unbraid his golden hair 
while Haldir continues to kneed his shoulders.

“I know it is a foolish love, but it is love none the less 
and is no less strong as love born of the wisest council.” 
Haldir nods understandingly as he leans across the bed and 
takes a silver comb from a small side dresser and begins to 
untangle and brush some of the braids Legolas is continuing 
to undo in his hair.

“How you can love a man is beyond me Legolas, but a man 
that seems determined to hurt you continually is too much 
to be born.”  I find myself feeling suddenly weak at the 
knees as memories of listening to just such a conversation 
at Rivendell take hold in my mind. Determined to hear more 
I lean closer and watch as Legolas reaches up to pause 
Haldir’s hands in his hair and bring them gently to his 
lips. He places a gentle kiss upon each palm of Haldir’s 
hands before holding them securely against his naked chest.

“Dearest Haldir you watch over me like a brother, but can 
you not see that he does not hurt me intentionally only 
because he is as bound to his heritage as I am to mine. We, 
neither of us want to be bound to our ancestor’s fate by 
the traditions bestowed upon us to continue. I have paid 
dearly for resisting these expectations thrust upon me in 
pursuit of love and I would not wish him to go through what 
I have. I will love him but only from a far.” My breath 
falters as my heart constricts at the sadness Legolas 
expresses. The emotionless beauty Legolas shows externally 
to all is only a cover to protect his true feelings from 
the harshness of other people. Haldir smiles fondly down at 
Legolas his eyes glistening with a moistness I would not 
have expected such a time weary warrior to express. For a 
moment they just remain staring at one another Legolas 
clutching Haldir’s hands firmly to his chest and nuzzling 
into the warriors shoulder behind him. A whisper escapes 
Haldir’s lips the words not audible but their meaning not 
lost upon me as Legolas tilts his head slightly back and 
captures Haldir’s lips against his own.

My mouth hangs open like a fish starved of oxygen as the 
pairs embrace becomes more sensual than mere comfort. I 
feel like a maiden having discovered a lovers deceit as 
Haldir begins a lavish decent of kisses down Legolas’ 
chest. Whimpers of pleasure escapes the princes throat and 
I watch transfixed as Haldir divests the young prince of 
his leggings with ease before continuing his seductive 
decent of kisses along Legolas’ body. My own breeches 
become increasingly uncomfortable as husky words of 
encouragement utter from Legolas’s lips as Haldir hovers 
above Legolas’ substantial length before descending with 
calculated movements to take him whole within his mouth. 
The cry that escapes Legolas’ lips from Haldir’s 
ministrations is enough to wake even the dwarf and I look 
nervously down the hall to make sure it has not awoken 
anyone from their slumber. To my relief the hall remains 
deserted and I draw my attention back to the scene inside 
the room. Wide eyed like a youngster just short of their 
majority I watch as Haldir sits back against the 
intricately shaped bed head and gestures for Legolas to 
come towards him. In my moment of guilty glances down the 
hallway I have missed the removal of Haldair’s own leggings 
and am totally awed by the extent to which the guardian is 
well endowed below his waist as he opens his legs slightly 
to accommodate Legolas position, now kneeling over his lap. 
The pair whispers something to each other in the elder 
tongue of which I do not understand before I’m utterly 
amazed as Legolas lowers himself upon Haldir’s member. The 
guttural moan of pleasure that echoes from both elves is 
the final straw for my own aroused state and I can stand it 
no longer. The ache of constriction within my own breeches 
becomes too much and I turn hastily and run with as light a 
feet as possible to my own chamber just down the hall. 
Behind me I let the door swing shut of it’s own accord 
before racing to my bed and quickly discarding my breeches, 
not even bothering to undress entirely as I fall backwards 
on the bed and begin pleasuring myself.

My end is not delayed and to the images of Legolas body in 
my mind I reach my climax. To stifle my own scream I bite 
hard into my bottom lip, drawing blood as
I grip into the coverlet below me, so that my knuckles are 
white with lack of circulation. In utter shame I close my 
eyes as I feel my own sticky essence drip down the side of 
my waist from where it was slashed across my stomach. I 
have not done that since reaching adulthood, and having met 
Arwen, I have had no need, until now. Controlling my 
breathing I allow my legs to relax against the cool bed 
linen as the night sounds of the wood begin to drift back 
into my consciousness. Along with them however the very 
familiar sounds of elves gripped in the embraces of lust 
just down the hall filter also into the silence of night. 
To others listening there would be no question of the 
nightly activities but no doubt no one will speak of it in 
the morn. Removing the rest of my clothes I move to a small 
washbasin on the nightstand by the window and I wash myself 
clean of my own activities. Naked I slip beneath the covers 
of my bed the noises of elves still in the throws of 
passion echoing in accompaniment to the choir of crickets, 
nightingales and trees outside.

I lie awake listening to the coupling just a few rooms down 
for most of the night until finally it falls into silence. 
Despite the now quiet night, slumber still does not claim 
me. Instead I am plagued with the confusion of the feelings
I seem to be having for Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, despite 
my duty to Arwen. It is impossible; I cannot concentrate on 
my task of leading the fellowship while the confusion in my 
own life keeps leading me astray. The fellowship is doomed 
under my command, I have failed just as my father, Isildur 
had all those years ago. I am bound to his fate and have 
not broken free of the curse. I am a disgrace.
TBC……………………..


Just a small note this story has become the first in a 
trilogy unimaginatively named "THE DUTIFUL LOVER SERIES". 
Thankies for all the support

Riff Raff


Chapter 10  
 
We paddle away from Lothlorien our gifts from the lady, 
uniting us as fellowship if only in appearance and nothing 
else. In my mind I am troubled by Frodo’s warning from the 
lady about Boromir. I have known it from the very beginning 
that Boromir desired the ring, I saw it in his eyes at the 
council. I know too that Boromir desires the strength to 
save Gondor’s people from the fate that befell them so many 
years before, however these innocent conflicts will never 
be safe around the rings power influences and I feel it in 
my heart that only tragedy will come from it. Sighing 
heavily I smile lightly as Frodo waves to the Lorien elves 
that line the shore to see us off and I find his innocent 
gesture of farewell warming in the cold thoughts of the 
task ahead. Our journey has been made harder without 
Gandalf and as we glimpse the last sight of Lorien I wish 
more than anything that he was still with us. Frodo smiles 
at me and turns back to sit forward in the canoe. It will 
be sometime before we reach our destination and we all 
settle for a steady paddle down the river. To my left 
Legolas resides in a canoe with the dwarf Gimli. They share 
lighthearted teasing of each other, which brings a smile to 
Legolas face. Since his night with Haldir he has become 
brighter again and I welcome the change of mood the stay in 
Lorien has brought upon him. I know it is only surface deep 
as he is a troubled elf inside but it is welcome all the 
same as his mood is infections and we all begin re telling 
our happy stories of our stay in Lorien, including the 
hobbits who have some of the most interesting to tell.  
 
Last night I had glimpsed from Frodo’s balcony Legolas and 
Haldir embracing each other privately in a small-secluded 
garden below. From their tears I knew it was an intimate 
farewell not for others eyes but I felt twinged with 
happiness at removing Haldir from Legolas by our departure 
in the hope his attentions once again fall to me. Their 
private goodbye reminded me so much of my farewell to Arwen 
in Rivendell but it was the gentle kiss at the conclusion 
of the meeting that sent realization to my mind. Since 
watching Haldir’s and Legolas’ coupling that night I have 
been toying with the idea of how deep my affections really 
are to Arwen. The kiss Haldir and Legolas shared seemed to 
hold much more emotion than any Arwen and I have shared and 
I am questioning why. Arwen is not my true love only an 
expectation of tradition that Legolas described so vividly 
to Haldir in their chamber. I am a victim of heritage 
despite having tried so hard not to be. Solemnly I turn my 
attention back to paddling the canoe re focusing my 
attention on the safety of Frodo in an attempt to justify 
my true reason for coming along with the fellowship.  
 
***************************  
 
I stand mortified as I watch Legolas slump to his knees 
upon the edge of the river. His sobbing is a mournful tune 
that makes even the trees weep in sorrow. Gimli leans 
quietly on his blood stained axe next to me, his own broken 
soul obvious from his unnatural slump. The fellowship has 
broken, Frodo and Sam are already across the other side of 
the river and I have no intention of following them. I will 
not risk Frodo’s quest further by pushing my tainted blood 
upon him. The last sight of Boromir’s floating coffin 
disappears over the top of the waterfall. It is a fitting 
burial for one who only desired the freedom and safety of 
his people and fought like the true warrior he was. I sigh 
heavily my chest constricted to enormously tight 
proportions from the fighting and the few hard blows I 
could not block. Gimli grunts his own discomfort of various 
ailments before the agonising scream of defiance from 
Legolas draws our attention back to the sad figure of the 
elf. Boromir’s death accompanied by the loss of Gandalf and 
the failed fellowship has finally taken its toll on the 
youngest Prince of Mirkwood. His emotionless facade has 
finally broken under the pressure and he now weeps like a 
helpless child. His sheltered youth has not exposed him to 
such losses as those he has encountered on this journey and 
his natural elfish nature towards a peaceful existence for 
all has been shattered into many irretrievable shards. I 
have seen it before, young warriors that have returned from 
battle broken soles who are beyond the healing of any power 
known. They suffer internally from the horrors that they 
have witnessed until it finally consumes them into death. I 
shudder at the mere thought as I drop my soiled weapons and 
walk unsteadily towards Legolas’ slumped figure.  
 
I hear Gimli grunt as he sits down upon the grassy bank of 
the river, his dwarfish ability to never tire finally 
caving in. We are in little danger of the enemy now. The 
Uruk-hai having come and taken the hobbits and made a hasty 
retreat after gaining their curious prize, and what remains 
of the enemy are in bloodied pieces around us already 
beginning to decay into the earth, which gave them life to 
begin with. So I move stiffly to stand behind Legolas’ his 
shoulders shuddering with each painful intake of air.  
 
“Legolas’ it is over. We cannot help Frodo now, he must 
decide his own fate. You Gimli and I must rescue Merry and 
Pippin from torment and death at the hands of Saruman.” My 
voice is harsher than I mean it to be as I speak in elfish 
to my companion. For a moment he ignores me and continues 
to stare out at the rushing water of the river. At length 
he slowly stands unsteady on his feet as he rises still 
with his back to me.  
 
“Do not treat me as a child Aragorn. I need no sympathy 
from you.” His words are lifeless and cold as he glances 
contemptibly over his shoulder at me. The look of pure 
vengeance creases his lips into a sneer not unlike the one 
he showed me during our stay in Rivendell. I can still see 
the rivers of tears flowing down his cheeks as the 
emotionless facade washes across his features again. 
Without warning he turns and pushes past me stalking 
determinedly towards where his discarded weapons and cape 
sit in a pile next to Gimli. We are all a mess, of wounds, 
bruises and sorrow but yet a determination rises in us as 
Legolas straps his quiver upon his back and begins 
collecting as many spare arrows from the bodies lying 
strewn around us. We do not speak to one another as we 
gather only the essentials from our things for our journey 
of rescue. It takes only a few minutes for us to stand 
facing one another battle weary but ready all the same. I 
meet Legolas’ cold gaze and attempt a smile but it is lost 
in his emotionless depths as he turns from me and leads us 
back into the forest on the trail of the orcs. If Legolas 
was not lost from my attention before he certainly is now.  
 
TBC……………………..  
 
 
Chapter 11  
 
It has been days since the fellowship broke apart and 
already we have slain many hundreds of orc parties we have 
met along our travels. As we have drawn nearer to Isengard 
and Rohan the orc battles have grown more frequent. Today 
has been particularly harsher than any before. Uruk-hai 
ambushed us quite unexpectedly this morning along the path 
west and we had to fight for out lives. Fortunately we are 
mostly unharmed but old injuries are beginning to build 
upon new ones and we are suffering silently in pain. On my 
own instincts we are heading towards Rohan the western city 
of men. If we reach the city we may rest for a while in 
safety and hear what news they have of Isengard. We may 
also gather followers in our quest to save the little ones. 
It is becoming dark and I am weary, we should make camp 
soon. In front I can see the dull glow of Legolas’ mane of 
hair as he moves stealthfully between the trees, scouting 
ahead. He has hardly stopped constantly taking double 
watches at night and some times not even waking Gimli and 
myself for our watch at all. I sigh and call ahead to 
Legolas, already feeling my own strength diminish as the 
remaining glow of the day begins to darken.  
 
“Legolas we must set up camp.” My voice carries with the 
cold chilling breeze of the night air and I pause and watch 
as Legolas stops and pokes his head back around the trunk 
of a tree to stare at me.  
 
“Very well I can hear a stream ahead there may be some 
place there that we may rest tonight with fresh water with 
which to replenish ourselves.” His voice is no more than a 
whisper as it reaches us the wind having taken it in the 
opposite direction from which it was intended. I nod at 
Gimli and we continue to follow Legolas figure down the 
unworn track.  As predicted a short way down the track we 
stumble along a small stream. Its waters are crystal clear 
seemingly unsoiled by the foul evil that has polluted the 
land around it. Across the other side of the water Legolas 
is already searching out a small overhanging rock 
formation. Weary of the water I bend down to test it for 
sorcery of some kind but am stopped by Legolas’ voice from 
its bank. “It is untouched by anything but nature, cool to 
lips and soothing to the tongue. I have already tried it.” 
Glancing up from my scrutiny of the water I watch as 
Legolas sets out his blanket just under the overhang and 
sits carefully down upon it. Gimli grunts his approval and 
steps across the stones to join Legolas on the other side 
before hastily dropping his things and wandering off nearby 
to collect firewood. Quietly I join the others on the 
opposite side of the bank.  
 
Taking the opportunity of fresh water, after settling my 
things, I move to the stream’s bank and begin filling our 
water skins. I can feel Legolas staring at me, as he sits 
passively uninterested by everything as Gimli lights a 
small fire and stows some firewood under the overhang to 
save collecting more during the unsafe night. Despite my 
best efforts to maintain the health of my companions during 
our journey, Legolas has become unnaturally thin and pale. 
The glow of youthful health has slowly dulled from him to 
nothing, so that he appears to be nothing more than a 
common lost warrior rather than the Princeling he is. While 
he still fights with the strength of many elves, it is 
depreciating as quickly as his health. He is still troubled 
by the losses he has incurred although showing no outward 
suffering and it worries me that he looks more lifeless 
than those bodies we slay. His hair is caked with dirt and 
he has long given up braiding it and instead has it 
constantly tied up with a length of lace from one of his 
torn tunics. What is more concerning than anything is that 
his weapons are unkempt, quite unnatural for any elf more 
so a warrior who relies on his weapons for his life. To me 
this only suggests one thing and that is that the Prince of 
Mirkwood has lost value of his own life and is not 
concerned if he lives or dies.  
 
Gimli arrives back with some more firewood and after 
lighting it for me I instruct him to bathe and cleanse 
himself in the stream while I begin our evening meal. The 
food we brought with us has long gone and now we rely on my 
ability to find food from the wild. If at any point I see a 
possible meal along our daily treks I will purposefully 
stop and collect it, for food is becoming scarce to find as 
we draw closer to the desecration that encircles Isengard. 
Tonight we are having mushrooms in a sauce I have compiled 
together with some revitalising herbs for our health as 
well as a flat sort of bread made from the bark of a tree 
and the few ears of wheat I stocked up on from the last 
deserted village we passed through. Gimli had the luck of 
finding wild berries hidden from the destruction of the 
land by an old stonewall so we shall be eating in relative 
luxury this evening. Once the evening meal is slowly 
warming over the fire I make my own way down to the stream. 
A little further down stream I can hear Gimli singing to 
himself as he bathes and I take the opportunity to join 
him. It has been so long since I felt truly clean. The 
thick sticky glug of the orc’s foul blood soils everything 
I own and these small found sanctuaries are most welcome to 
wash some of the foulness away. The continued closeness of 
Gimli and I provides no awkwardness as we both bathe naked 
side by side. We are too travel weary, to worry about 
formalities and embarrassment as we cleanse thoroughly.  
 
“I pray for a hot bath when we reach Rohan, my bones ache 
like fractures in the stone hall of Moria.” I nod wistfully 
at Gimli’s prayer I too suffering from an ache deep within 
my bones before we fall back into the concentration of 
scouring ourselves of the filth of the road.  
 
Once clean I step to the bank and pull on my leggings 
before inspecting my own wounds. There are a few that have 
become infected but with continued applications of herbs 
they should clear. Bruises taint my skin like dark 
thunderclouds and some severe enough to have turned a 
sickly yellow/green. They are what hurt the most but there 
is no healing herb for them accept rest. Gimli finishes 
combing his beared with a small silver brush he has kept in 
his pack, while I inspect his wounds for him. He is 
relatively unharmed, the worst pain from blisters obtained 
by worn out boots. Once we are suitably feeling fresh again 
Gimli moves to go back to camp but I place a hand on his 
shoulder to stop him. I must have some time alone with 
Legolas to insure his health for the rest of the journey if 
nothing else and there is no time like the present. Gimli 
looks at me confused as I lower my voice and gesture 
towards where the fire is providing a shadow glow against 
the roof of the overhang, where Legolas sits.  
 
“I must see the elf alone. You have seen his health as I 
have, he is not well and I must rectify this before we go 
on. He will not last another day if his wounds are not 
cleaned and his hunger attended too.” Gimli nods sternly in 
understanding at my observation of Legolas and grumbles a 
small curse at the elf’s supposed stubbornness. It is 
ironic really a dwarf complaining of the stubbornness of 
elves but I let it pass as Gimli passes me the small silver 
comb he has kept religiously close to him throughout our 
journey.  
 
”Very well stay here, and I shall tell him you wish to 
speak with him. I will keep the meal warm for your return, 
if you should only brush his hair back into the beauty it 
was when we first left Rivendell. A pretty creature like 
the prince should not have mattered hair.” I smile fondly 
at Gimli’s innocent request, his attachment to Legolas 
growing to one of deep friendship despite their shaky 
beginning.  
 
“I shall try. Thank-you Gimli.” Gimli grunts his approval 
and turns on his heel following the streams edge back to 
our small encampment. Cautious of the task ahead I 
consciously leave my clean clothes lying on the safety of a 
rock nearby and just leave my leggings on. If Legolas does 
not do this willingly then it will be in my power to force 
it upon him for the sake of his own health. It is not long 
before the soft pad of feet behind me alert me to Legolas 
presence and I glance up at him from where I am sitting on 
a flat rock beside the stream.  
 
”You wish to speak with me Aragorn?” I smile as warm as 
possible longing for it to be reciprocated by the elf. As 
usual however it is met with the same passive glaze of 
Legolas’ features and I sigh inwardly. It is dark already 
and the moonlight provides a soft lighting for the creature 
before me. It is nothing compared to his once radiant glow 
but it is enough to renew a sense of purpose in my actions.  
 
“I do but you must bathe first so I may inspect your 
wounds.” There is a clinical tone to my voice that I did 
not mean to be there but from years of playing a healer to 
many souls I could not help it. For a moment he stares at 
me and I raise an eyebrow at him sternly much like I 
imagine Elrond would do to him. Legolas looks away from me, 
this task will not be easy.  
 
“I have not the strength to bathe tonight. I am tired and 
my wounds will heal with rest, or have you forgotten 
Ranger, that I am an elf.” The snide remark that drips 
from, the end of his reply is most disturbing but non-the 
less I stand from my seated position to come face to face 
with the stubborn elf before me.  
 
“You will do as I say Legolas. These wounds are not healing 
as they should, this one already four days old and 
infected.” Reaching up I roughly turn his face back to mine 
and run my finger cruelly along the deep gash that runs 
from his cheek into his hairline above his ear. I know it 
must be painful for him but it is in aid of making a point. 
Despite his usually calm resolve he finches away under my 
contact his eyes momentarily closing in pain of the touch. 
He remains quiet however and pulls his face from my hold to 
look away again from my face. Inwardly I sigh before taking 
a softer tact. “If you are weak I shall help you, there is 
no shame in a warrior receiving help from a friend. But you 
must take the opportunity to clean yourself, for an 
opportunity may not arise again until we have reached 
Rohan.” For a moment he remains quiet before he turns to me 
a ghostly swell of sadness flashing in his unforgiving eyes 
as he stares straight through me.  
 
“What is the point. I have fallen into the same hole as my 
father has. I am not the warrior you speak of, instead I am 
a mere boy just out of his minority fighting among men and 
pretending to be as they are.  Do you not understand 
Aragorn that I have nothing to return to when this over.” 
The words he spoke to me on the edge of the river when the 
fellowship broke come quickly back to haunt me, only this 
time they are spoken with a sadness of a bleeding soul.  “I 
have allowed the great Gandalf the Grey to slip into shadow 
without trying to protect him. The steward of Gondor 
protected my honour by sanctioning my lies to my father 
only for me to repay him by my lack of attention in his 
hour of need. The fellowship has broken and Frodo is alone 
without safety on his quest like I promised him. I have 
been made to give up my lover for the sake of tradition and 
I have been rejected from my homeland and have disgraced my 
own father to the point at which he will not recognise me 
as a son. No Aragorn you do not understand.” I watch as he 
shakes his head at me tears just gracing the surface of his 
eyes, as he looks heavenward to the stars twinkling 
brightly in the sky above. “I will not return in glory as 
you will to your pretty prize, to be praised and crowned 
the rightful king of Gondor for all to see. I will return 
in failure to a land that does not recognize me as anything 
else but a traitor. I once wore a crown and had Elrond’s 
favour long before you were even born but I have lost both 
those things, just as quickly as you will obtain them upon 
your return.” I swallow hard as Legolas turns his gaze back 
upon me his eyes burning with sorrow. “No I will not bathe 
for anyone, the filth that I bear fits the soiled feeling 
inside of me. I will not bathe at all.” I understand now 
the pain of failure he feels and I know it runs too deep to 
be ever fully resolved. He turns to leave and I allow him 
to wander a few steps away from me before I see him falter 
and stumble on the rocks. In slow motion I see him fall 
forward in an ungraceful tangle of weak limbs quite 
unnatural for an elf.  
 
“Legolas!” I call to him and run to his aid just in time to 
soften the impact of his body upon the hard ground. He is 
having trouble breathing and I lie him softly against my 
lap as I hastily unlace his torn tunic and inspect the 
substantially large weeping wound that streaks blood down 
his side. It is infected and I clench my fists in rage that 
he had not told me of it’s severity when it first happened. 
“You WILL cleanse yourself elf. Or I shall force you to do 
it. You are worth less to us injured than you are unhealthy 
sorry for yourself but clean!” I growl at him unable to 
suppress my anger as I easily lift his weight in my arms 
and walk him ungracefully to the edge of the stream. I see 
the fear in his eyes as I hold him out at arms length and 
loosen my grip upon him ready to drop him into the water. 
He scrabbles in my arms almost afraid of me dropping him 
into the babbling stream. “Will you do as I say? Or do I 
force this upon you, for your own good!”  
 
“I do, I do I will bathe if only that you let me enter the 
water on my own. My wounds are deep and the water is cold 
enough to sting more than they already do.” Panic floods 
Legolas features as he clutches to my arms desperately. I 
smile a small smirk of success and I reluctantly lower 
Legolas to his feet on the edge of the stream. It is true I 
have frightened him with my threat of searing pain that the 
cold water would bring to his wounds should I drop him in.  
 
“Good choice Prince Legolas, now do as I ask and quickly. 
Gimli is keeping our meal warm and I am famished.” I stand 
with my arms crossed patiently waiting for Legolas to begin 
undressing however he just lowers his head and blushes 
lightly.  
 
“Must you watch me so? If I must bathe let me do so alone.” 
I sigh heavily, reluctant to leave incase Legolas changes 
his mind about the bath but from his stance I believe I 
have sufficiently scared him enough with my anger for him 
not to obey my command.  
 
“Fine, but I will tend to your wounds when you come back to 
camp so I expect them to be thoroughly clean of filth.” I 
watch as he nods passively and turns to sit awkwardly upon 
the edge of the stream. For a few moments I remain standing 
watching him as he struggles with his clothes before 
reluctantly turning back towards the overhang and leaving 
him to it. I am satisfied that I will obtained some 
semblance of order in Legolas health as well as having been 
allowed to hear what troubles his soul so deeply. Our 
journey is far from over but I am content in the knowledge 
that if need be I can make Legolas realise his stupidity 
and revitalise his will to go on even if he is not aware of 
it.  
 
TBC……………………..  
 
 
Chapter 12  
 
Rohan is just as I imagine it to be. Compared to the beauty 
of the elven cities, Rohan is but a nothingness pit of 
filth, depravity, slavery and drink. Most of the warriors 
are out protecting the boarders of the city from the daily 
waves of orcs, which attack from their camps around the 
tower of Isengard. I was reluctant to even enter the city 
after seeing it’s ruin and disgrace but I have considered 
it the lesser evil of the situation to be under royal 
protection at the palace rather than roaming the street 
among unsavoury commoners, especially with Legolas. There 
have been few elves among the lands of men since the Last 
Alliance, and Legolas’ mere presence is drawing some 
attention.  
 
We arrived late in the afternoon to the city having almost 
lost Gimli in a surprise attack of more than fifty odd 
orcs. Luckily we are mostly unharmed but Gimli has a broken 
arm, which has been set by the healers of the city. We are 
in the company of Faramir and his court much to Legolas’ 
disgruntled temperament. The elf seems edgy and unsettled 
among the men and I can hardly blame him with the scene 
that is the evening meal. We sit to the right of Faramir 
the three of us surrounded by men all greedily devouring 
their feast, with less manners than orcs as they talk 
loudly of war, women and politics. Legolas has hardly 
touched his meal and I confess that the sight of those 
around me shovelling food like pigs, has quite turned off 
my appetite as well. Gimli seems unaffected by the raucous 
of the meal although his fatigue of injury goes some way in 
sheltering him from the scene surrounding him. As predicted 
Faramir has not taken Boromir’s passing well. He has sent 
for his father and has sent more warriors to their boarders 
to revenge his brothers’ death. He is much like Boromir, 
head strong and full of hatred for the foul beings that 
slay his men.  
 
Faramir sits at the head of the table now his councillors 
and centurions telling him of the battles that wage 
continually just outside the city walls. For the sake of 
not upsetting people I have kept my heritage to myself. I 
remember to well Boromir’s reaction to my true identity and 
I dare not risk the same reaction from half a court of 
well-battled men.  Faramir seems to take little interest in 
the general conversations and I find myself watching him 
intently as he shares his glances between his councillors 
and Legolas. It is quite unsettling the way he stares at 
the elf. I have not mentioned it to Legolas but I have seen 
many adorning eyes watching him from every faction in the 
palace. It has been a long time since elves have roamed 
freely among the men of Rohan especially those elves of the 
wood. Legolas’ fair hair is attracting more attention to 
him than I think can be passed off as mere curiosity.  
 
“You have not spoken comrades, has your travels tired you 
tongues as well as your bodies. Have you know tales to tell 
of your own adventures?” The hall falls into silence as 
Faramir casually lifts his wine goblet to his lips and 
raises a curious eyebrow in our direction. I finish my 
forced mouthful of meat and glance easily to where Gimli 
and Legolas are sitting at my side. Legolas remains 
silently staring at the plate of gravy meat in front of him 
while Gimli I find has fallen asleep, leaving me to address 
the waiting court. I clear my throat with a swill of wine 
before smiling with all honesty at the steward.  
 
“We have come a long way and have seen many things, not all 
of those things so light hearted as to converse about over 
a meal. Our tongues may recover after a well earned rest.” 
As if on cue a loud snort comes from the dwarf as his head 
falls backwards and he begins to snore. There is a moment 
of silence before Faramir laughs heartily at Gimli causing 
his court to do the same before silence befalls it again.  
 
“Very well you have my leave, with the promise of news that 
you bring of the outside beyond the walls of the city in 
this time of peril for Middle Earth.” I bow my head in 
gratitude to the steward and I hear to my left as Legolas 
breaths out a small sigh of relief. “Aradian take our 
guests to their rooms.” A scruffy young servant appears at 
the side of Faramir’s chair and bows low in understanding 
before scurrying past us towards the exit of the hall. 
Between us Legolas and I haul Gimli to his feet and walk 
him unsteadily after the servant. All eyes are focused on 
us as we leave the not so subtle muttering amongst the 
diners, testament to the amusement we seem to have created 
with our presence.  
 
Legolas seems to relax a little more as we are led through 
the lavishly furnished hallways of Rohan’s royal palace. We 
drop Gimli onto the bed in the first room before taking the 
next two for ourselves. I am reluctant to leave Legolas 
alone for tonight but he insists that he is quite capable 
of looking after himself and I know better than to argue 
with an already unsettled wood elf. The night air is warm 
and I open the balcony doors to my room to allow the cooler 
breeze to waft through my sleeping arrangements. A warm 
iron bath of water has been left for me behind the screen 
in the far corner and I strip eagerly, my skin crying out 
for cleanliness. I relax into the soaking effects of the 
warm jasmine scented water and close my eyes. Images of 
Legolas’ fragility back when the fellowship broke plague my 
thoughts. I have still yet to discover what truly broke his 
spirit back then but I am more than sure it has something 
to do with his guilt. I sigh and shift in the water opening 
my ears to the sounds outside below my balcony if not my 
eyes. Below I can hear voices singing crudely and with an 
unmistakeable slur of alcohol. It is foul what has befallen 
the once proud city. Maybe if I had taken my heritage as 
Elrond had once swallowed his own, then maybe it could have 
been different. As it stands the people of Middle Earth are 
divided and leaderless fighting for something that is only 
a fragmented myth.  
 
“Aragorn? Aragorn?” A faint whisper interrupts my complex 
thoughts. It is only when I open my eyes and remember my 
surroundings that I become highly concerned with who is 
whispering my real name in the halls of the royal palace. 
Springing from my bath I run light footed to my discarded 
sword lying at the foot of my bed with my dirty clothes. 
With a stealth brought from years of being a ranger I 
unsheathe my sword with little care for my state of undress 
and stand poised for attack as my eyes scan the gloom of 
the lightless room. The voice is familiar yet is neither 
Gimli or Legolas. I continue to scan the room and it’s 
shadows searching for the source of my whispered name. 
There is a moments silence and I wait for my name to be 
uttered again so I can focus more on the direction it is 
coming from however before it can come again the door to my 
bedroom is swung open and a figure dashes in. I swing my 
sword towards the intruder only just managing to stop it at 
their throat as I recognise the long tresses of blonde 
silken hair.  
 
“Legolas!” I growl my response at the elf’s presumption to 
enter my chambers without knocking but when he remains 
silent apart from his shallow breathing I instantly 
recognise fear in his emotions and all anger is instantly 
dissolved as I lower my sword from his neck. “What is 
wrong?” In my concerned intent to question the elf I have 
forgotten my naked state only realising when I watch the 
elf’s attention drop from my face to my lower regions in 
utter shock. “I was having a bath.” I mutter somewhat self-
consciously to myself as I turn hastily and move over to my 
bed where my robe lies. I can feel Legolas’ eyes watching 
me as I hastily cover myself with the robe before turning 
back to him. If the situation seemed less worrisome I might 
have revelled in Legolas’ gaze for longer. It seems so long 
since we left Rivendell the memories of my eyes first 
meeting the young prince’s firmly etched into my mind.  
“Now tell me what is wrong?” I move over to a small table 
near the window and easily light the few candles that sit 
upon it, bathing the room in an unearthly glow.  
 
“Tell me you hear them, for if not I have lost my sanity in 
this god forsaken place.” The hysteria that twinges 
Legolas’ usually even tone makes me turn back to him and 
stare. I have not heard the worry in his voice since Frodo 
and Sam departed from us and Boromir fell. In the low light 
I take in his appearance. Clad in a flowing white night 
shirt he looks almost an innocent maiden on her first night 
before her husband. The muscular frame beneath the robe is 
evident of no innocents and his firm set features 
determined in their hold. His feet are bare and his long 
hair is undone from its braids to create the rippling 
golden river that flows down his back and over his 
shoulders. He is truly a beautiful sight to behold, ev