Gondor’s King
PART 2 of the Dutiful Lover Series
(and sequel to Creature Comforts)


Rating:  R18+ or NC-17 depending on the country.
Pairing:  Aragorn/Legolas. L/H. E/L. Others less important implied.
Fandom:  Lord of the Rings “Fellowship & Beyond RotK”
Series:  Dutiful Lover Series.
Warnings:  Non-concentual / 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 McD so you won’t get much.
Spoilers:  Not if you’ve seen the movie and read the books.
Summary:  An event in Rivendell brings old acquaintances back together.
Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is yet to be determined.
A/N:  This is the second story of the series I’m currently writing. We go
beyond Tolkien’s books in this so bear with me until I refine the characters of
my own creation. As Always reviews are most welcome and I will make the effort
to reply to all of those individually, after all it’s nice to know the reviews
are being read and taken in.  Plus I know that the last story didn’t really
require the warnings and was in comparison rather tame……but I assure you it was
for a reason, as you will find out as you read this next story in the series.


Chapter 1

I walk alone in the gardens under the shining graces of the stars. I treasure
the time of peace I’m allowed to myself at night for it took me so long to
obtain the privilege. The silence sooths my soul and the soft dewy grass between
my feet provides relief for my aching muscles. Peace reigns over the lands of
men but it is not maintained by anything less than chaos. My life is not my own
as it has been since the fall of Sauron and the war of the ring. My daily
routines are set out by councillors and advisors all eager to keep me occupied
with political meetings and attending court. However I do not complain I
accepted willingly my fate after the war and now fulfil my duties with only the
safety and protection of my people in mind.

I stop along the small-secluded path I walk upon every night and smile down at
the violet blue flowers that have bloomed since my last wandering. They are
iridescent in the moonlight, their petals seemingly kissed by the blue waters of
the sea. Bending down I pluck only a few from their stems and rise to my feet
after inhaling their potent sweet fragrance. They are beautiful and remind me
most sadly of the iridescent blue I once saw reflected in my lovers eyes. I sigh
heavily and straighten my back to continue walking along the path. I hardly hear
word of the elves any more, most of their kindred having sailed to the Undying
Lands. The time of elves has passed and the few that remain are situated in the
far east of Mirkwood and Rivendel. Of my old friends I hear nothing, although
Gimli I hear has reunited the dwarves in Moria and has made quite a city for
them. The hobbits remain as they were in the seclusion of the shire, my boarder
keepers there, insuring no harm to the halflings from outsiders. However of the
elves I hear little except what news the wanders bring and that is at least
several months old by the time it reaches my ears.

Approaching the small stone chapel I bow respectfully before it’s arched
entrance and quietly move to sit on the stone bench next to the steps. Arwen and
I were married here and now her memory lingers in the quiet peacefulness of its
surrounding gardens. I cannot say that I did not love her because I did but it
was not the type of love that lasts forever. Like my own duty to the throne, she
too had her own duty to her people and graced me with three children; Aratula,
Breachtian and my youngest Kahual. Arwen passed across the seas with her
grandmother Galadrial only a mere seven years after Kahual’s birth and although
the children miss her acutely I feel no loss only happiness for her now she is
in peace. I do not know of Elrond or though his sons did pass through several
winters ago on their way to the Ent forest. They did not linger for more than a
day and spoke little of Rivendell and it’s occupants.

I sigh heavily and rest my head upon my hands playing lightly with the petals
upon the flowers I have picked. Their pollen from the flowers stains the tips of
my fingers blue so that they look colder than winter.  It has been so long since
I became king and I am becoming more aware of my loneliness in my court. I have
no real friends anymore, only those that want something from me and profess a
false friendship towards me. Inside I long for excitement, for adventure and
fun. In Minas Tirith I cannot even leave the palace walls without being
profusely questioned. I have forsaken my freedom as a wandering Ranger for the
claustrophobic protection that ‘so they say’ a king requires. It’s disheartening
to say the least.

There comes a sound of someone running along the path I have just walked along
and I tut and roll my eyes skyward in contempt, even before the person is within
sight. It seems I cannot even have my time alone with the stars anymore without
being interrupted for trivial matters, which I am sure it will be at 11.30 at
night.

“What?” I gruffly question the young messenger before he has even begun to bow
before me. With no patience at all I question the messenger sternly with my
expression as he fights to catch his breath and pants like a puppy.

“A message your majesty….”He pauses to catch his breath again and holds up the
neatly rolled message. “The messenger comes from the elven city of Rivendell and
speaks of your urgent attention to the messages content.” I stand up from my
seat, the flowers forgotten on the stone bench as I hastily rip the message from
his hands. The seal is that of the house of Elrond and thank-fully is unbroken.
It has been the custom of some of my councillors to open messages from afar
before handing them to me, but it seems this one has come unscathed direct to
me. Somewhat fearful of its contents I slide my finger under the seal and pace
quietly in front of the chapel steps my eyes scanning the hastily scrawled elven
words. As predicted the message brings bad tidings. A sickness of unknown source
has infected many of the remaining elves in Rivendell. It has spread rapidly and
threatens the lives of many, including that of Lord Elrond. I am surprised that
the Lord is still within middle earth but concerned all the same of this
sickness that my old tutor Glorfindel it seems has written to me about. He asks
the assistance of my knowledge and healing hands in their time of need and I
shall not fail to provide it. It may have been many years since we were in each
other’s company but the alliances of friendship are never broken.

“Take me to the messenger I wish to speak with him, then rouse my staff from
their slumber as I wish to take immediate council in the study.”  The messenger
bows and gestures politely with his hand back along the path allowing me to go
first before he runs closely behind me.

By the time we arrive in the main courtyard there is a gathering of people with
lit torches illuminating the dark area in front of the palace. As I move closer
to the gathered crowd I realise their source of interest and instantly break
into a small sprint.

“Get away!” I growl frantically to the gathered crowd of my servants and
councillors who look at me strangely but obey all the same and take several
steps away from their centre of attention. The messenger from Rivendell lies
shivering on the coble stones beside his horse, his fists clenched in pain as he
stares fearfully around at the group above him. Thinking quickly I shove the
message into a small pocket of my robe before tearing a small section of cloth
from the outer lengths of excess fabric that adorn me. Holding the fabric to my
mouth I kneel easily beside the scared young elf and watch as his wild eyes
focus on me the pain evident in his rigid, shaking body. I have never seen an
elf look so pale and sickly in all my life and I can only imagine the extent to
what those in Rivendell look like, if this is the sickness Glorfindel’s speaks
of.

“Please help us.” The whispered elfish words come out in a stutter through the
elves tightly clenched teeth. His eyes plead with me for aid as I witness a thin
trickle of blood drip onto the coble from the corner of his mouth. He is in
utter agony and I do not know how to help him, it is a torment beyond anything
to see such a creature as an elf suffer so much.

“Hand me your gloves.” I gesture to the stable boy behind me who obligingly
removes his leather gloves and passes them to me, which I hastily slip on. As I
reach for the elf’s face I can feel the heat radiating off him. He has a fever
beyond any I have felt and I softly brush my hand down his cheek and down to the
collar of his tunic. In the dim light of the torches I can see a fiery rash
stretching below the collar and I suspect much further over his body. If he is
infectious I risk infecting my own court by attempting to heal him here in the
city. The elf begins to shake more violently and I can see the fear in his eyes
as he struggles to breath, he has past beyond aid. I clutch his hand
comfortingly until his eyes go a misty blue and his body falls limp against my
legs. In respect those around me lower their heads in silent prayer for the
passing.

“Father what are you doing? What’s happening?” At the sound of my son’s voice I
look up and hold my hand up to stay his movement of coming closer.

“Breachtian, do not come any closer.” My eldest son pauses and looks at me with
a worrying glance I have only ever seen mirrored in his mothers face and I smile
lightly. “It is okay just go back to bed.” He nods reluctantly and I watch as
one of my councillor’s escorts him back inside.  I turn to several other of my
advisors and instruct them in my plan and what has fallen upon Rivendell. As
usual they advise me against going personally if the illness takes lives as
quickly as the messengers but I ignore their protests at my leaving. “No I leave
now, bring my horse and a large cloth so that I may take his body outside the
city and bury it without risk of infecting others. My cloak and Sword also.”
Those around me disperse quickly to their duties leaving me alone with the
messenger. The elf is young not more than 500 years or so and definitely not in
his majority. His mattered brown locks tell of his haste in bringing the
message, probably aware of his own sickness and getting here as quickly as
possible before his life was taken. With a gloved hand I wipe the thin trail of
blood from the corner of his lip and then slowly close his eyes for him. In my
mind images of Elrond looking like this pain my heart greatly. The elves were
not meant to see such a horrible death let alone be witness to others as well. I
shall ride continually until I reach Rivendell, time is of the essence if there
is any hope of finding a cure.  There are too few elves left in Middle Earth to
allow this sickness to wipe the rest of them out before their time.

TBC………………………………….



Chapter 2

The ride to Rivendell is a lengthy one and I fear my rear end is suffering
horrendously. My once saddle hardened rump now soft like a newborn’s at my lack
of horsemanship over the past few years. We stop at inn’s along the way but only
for food and to rest the horses briefly. Much to my own insistence of only being
accompanied by the few healers and guards two of my councillors have joined my
party. We buried the young messenger high in the hills outside of Gondor’s
boarders and as far away from villages as possible. I will not risk infection of
my city by foolishness, hence why I have had my whole court washed in camomile
and tea-tree to bathe away any lingering germ or virus, which may have been left
behind by the messenger. As we draw nearer to the ford that marks the beginning
of the boarder of Rivendell I am struck by the savage silence of the forest.
When I was last in Rivendell the forests sung with wildlife and the beautiful
harmonies of the elves laughing and playing could be heard upon the wind.
However now there is a choking thickness to the air and the unmistakeable stench
of death lingers upon the breeze.

“I have a bad feeling about this your majesty, if you should enter Rivendell you
yourself might be infected and we can not risk losing you to ill health,
Breachtian is not yet ready to take on the crown.” I glare at Gladimir over my
shoulder sternly and shake my head in repute at his callousness.

“Do not treat me as a fool. I am not sick yet and will take precautions against
my infection but if it does happen then it will be because I tried to save a
race that deserves to walk on the earth far more than any of us. I have two
son’s and I have no doubts that with my demise they will both learn very quickly
the responsibilities of court and rise to their duties.” I glare around at my
party all of them lowering their heads in respect of my words. “Now if any of
you do not wish to continue then turn back now, for once you are here you will
not leave until I have found a cure or died trying, as I will not risk spreading
the infection to Gondor.” I raise a questioning eyebrow at each individual
member of the party of 12 around me. They all nod obediently and I smile
inwardly to myself. So far they have only been allowed to see the passive,
dutiful side of me at court, but now they will see the Ranger’s command that
still lives within me.

Spurring my horse on we pass easily through the ford and under the canopy of the
Rivendell’s forest towards the last homely house. As we draw closer to the high
stonewalls of Elrond’s house I begin to notice that there is hardly anyone
around the place. We are not met by anyone and I take the opportunity to hand
out the strips of fabric to my party, for them to cover their mouths and noses.

“Hello?” My voice echoes in the empty hallways of Elrond’s home as I steadily
make my way down the entrance hall, having my party look into each room them
come across but to touch as little as possible. In instinct I call out in elven
for Elrond and I’m rewarded by sounds from the chambers up stairs. Gingerly we
make our way upstairs and the sight that greets me at the top of the stairs
saddens me. Glorfindel sits in a limp heap against the wall, he is alive but
very weak. He smiles warmly at me and raises a shaking hand out to me. I do not
hesitate to move over and kneel beside him grasping his hand in my own, aware
that my gloves provide some protection. He has lost so much weight that his
robes hang around him and his hair possess no heavenly golden shine it is
supposed to. He moves to speak but I shake my head and gesture for one of the
guards to help me get him up off the floor. “Do not speak old friend, save your
strength. Let us make you comfortable before you tell me of this evil which has
befallen you all.” He nods limply and rests fully against me as we move towards
a nearby bedroom. I avert my eyes from the sickly scene of the bedroom. A few
bodies of servants lie scattered on the floor, their corpses riddled with signs
of decay. “Gladimir.” I turn to my councillor and gesture to the bodies that lie
on the floor. “Take these six guards and scour the palace and the gardens
surrounding it. Have every corpse moved to the stables and any living bring here
to the upper chambers. If there are any horses in the stables let them free into
the surrounding fields. We shall have to bury the dead in the hills away from
Rivendell to prevent further infection.” Gladimir nods and instructs the guards
to pick up the corpses from the floor of the room before disappearing back out
into the corridor. Glorfindel groans a dreadful sound and I quickly strip the
bed covers from the soiled bed before allowing the guards to lay him upon it.

“Elrond he is in his room.” At Glorfindel’s laboured whisper I nod to two of the
healers to go in search of him before I instruct the other two to ready some
beds and search out the kitchens and some food for the sick. Softly I sit beside
Glorfindel on the bed and begin to remove his robes intent on inspecting the
symptoms of this sickness. His hand falls on mine to pause my actions and I look
up at him questioningly. “It comes from men, this sickness was brought by a
man.” I stare shocked at the elf who closes his eyes in pain for a moment before
breathing out heavily.

”Who?” I whisper intently aware that the last remaining councillor has
positioned himself on the other side of the bed to hear what Glorfindel has to
say as well. Once again Glorfindel takes a long breath before speaking.

“A wanderer from Arnor ate with us several months ago, he died in his bed
several days later. He has infected us all.” I nod understandingly glad somewhat
that the wandered who brought the sickness is no longer able to continue
spreading it.

“Alright rest now, I will do everything I can.” Glorfindel smiles fondly up at
me as I grasp his hand with a comforting squeeze before continuing to undress
him. The rash that covers their body is familiar to me but I cannot remember
where I have seen it before. There is no telling how long it will take to heal
the sick but I pray that I am not to late to save what remains of Imaldris’
elves.

TBC…………………


Chapter 3

I sit quietly beside the lords bed gently spooning small amounts of broth
between his lips in a hope of renewing just a little of his strength. It is
quite unnerving to see a healer of his experience helpless and in my total care.
He is quiet ill his pain evident in the brief moments he has awoken long enough
to speak. We have been in Imaldris only several days yet we have accomplished a
great many things. To my relief some of the sick have recovered to move about
the palace on their own, although the rash that scars their fair skin does not
fade and has become itchy to touch. During the night while the Lord has slept I
have spent many hours in the two great Library’s and Elrond study avidly reading
the teaching scripts of healers and history scribes, in the hope of finding a
cure or at least an explanation for the outbreak. So far I have found little
accept a recipe for a lotion that goes some way in soothing the itchiness of the
rash. My councillors have aided the re organization of Rivendell’s politics to
those who have recovered enough to go back to their daily tasks. My guards
patrol the boarders both day and night seeing that no one leaves or enters the
wood unauthorised by myself. There has been a great loss of life but the few
elves that remain are stronger for their loss and more determined to continue
their daily toil.

Lost in thought I automatically raise another spoonful of broth to Elrond’s lips
only to realise he is asleep as it dribbles unswallowed down his chin. I mutter
in elvish of my stupidity and lack of attention to my patient as I clean away
the sticky warm substance from the lords chin before covering him with a finely
woven blanket, much the same as one I used to sleep with during my childhood.
Outside I can hear the quiet chatter of the birds in the trees as the sun begins
to lower behind the surrounding hills. It has taken quiet a few days before the
birds have begun singing again, and it gladdens my heart to hear the beautiful
song they twitter to one another. Slowly Imaldris is waking up from it’s
mourning.  Placing the bowl back onto the tray I move quietly over to the open
balcony doors and pull them too, the breeze that has picked up in the afternoon
providing a chill to the air within the room. With a quick look around the room
I make sure everything is tidy before picking up the tray and moving to exit the
room. I will look in on Elrond later after I have done some reading in the
Library.

“Glorfindel!” Startled somewhat I run into the elder elf just outside Elrond’s
room. He bows respectively to me before gesturing to the entrance to Elrond’s
room. I am still not quite so comfortable with everyone bowing to me. Sometimes
I quite forget my place in the world now and it seems no right that those
friends I grew up with as equals now are forced to lower themselves to me.

“Your majesty, I have a message from the boarder guards.” The blonde haired elf
passes me the note and he takes the tray from me in replacement. Glorfindel has
recovered sufficiently from the illness but like all those infected still has
the irritating rash all over his body. I sigh as he addresses me with my title
and I long to hear him whisper my elven name of Estel, or chastise me like the
youth I was when I left with the fellowship.

“Thank-you, will you sit with Elrond for a little while in case he should wake.”
He nods in acceptance before moving down stairs to take the tray to the kitchens
before attending Elrond. I untie the note as I walk steadily towards the study.
The guards have reported to me ritually over the few days they have been
protecting the boarders informing me of their activities and what they have come
across. I prepare myself for an easy read of a detailed report but pause mid
step as I begin to read the message and it’s contents. A rider has approached
the ford and requests entry into Rivendell to speak with the Lord, his steed
bears markings and adornments from the realm of Mirkwood but the rider refuses
to reveal his identity. Turning on my heal I move swiftly downstairs to the
courtyard where I meet with one of the few elven house servants that have
survived the illness. After instructing him to fetch my horse I make my way down
to the courtyard. I shall address this visitor directly.

As I mount my horse and make towards the ford my mind begins to question the
identity of the rider. It has been many years since I have met with anyone from
the realm of Mirkwood. In my heart I pray that it is Legolas, although I know
better than to think that the now king of Mirkwood would be stupid enough to
travel alone. Through the forest I ride faster until I reach the edge of the
river where three of my guards are blocking the narrow passage from the river to
its bank. On the opposite side I can just make out a darkened figure upon a
heavy steed. The light is fading and I address my guards to clear a path so I
may enter the ford alone. As if an unspoken invitation has been agreed to the
rider on the opposite banks moves to meet me half way in the river. I keep my
distance aware still of the threat of spreading the infection should I come into
contact with the rider.

“You wish to speak with the Lord of Imaldris?” I address the rider in a calm
loud voice and I watch as the rider nods curtly in my direction but does not
remove the cloak hood that conceals his identity. From his weaponry I already
know he is of elvish decent and his fine steed is a tell tale sign of his high
status among his people. This is no ordinary messenger. “I can not allow that to
be so. The Lord of Imaldris is gravely ill and unable to take visitors. This
country is infected by an unknown illness that is highly infectious I cannot
allow you passage. You may speak with me and me alone.” For a moment I watch as
the rider shifts uneasily upon his steed as he stares at me from below the cover
of his cloak.

“And who may you be? I was told to speak to Lord Elrond only, you must prove
your equal to him less I convey my message.” Suspicion is an emotion not often
showed from elves, they are naturally accepting of all beings without judgement
or censure. There is only one elf however that showed suspicion openly and more
often than not to me personally. I cannot suppress a smile that graces my
features at the memory although I dare not hold out hope that this is Legolas
himself.

“I am King Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor and the realms of men.” I pause
meaningfully watching as the rider looks sharply at me. I am somewhat put out
that the rider does not know who I am or does not recognise me but I let it pass
for the moment. “And now out of courtesy you may tell me who you are?” I watch
as the rider continues to stare at me before he raises a steady hand and pulls
the hood from his head. My mouth involuntarily falls open at the extremely
familiar face it reveals. The golden hair shines in the moonlight and creates a
heavenly glow around the rider. Over our questioning the remaining light has
gone and now the stars have come out signalling another beautiful night.

“I am Haldir, Once guardian of Lothlorien and now consort to the king of
Mirkwood.” It is as if I have received a blow to the stomach at hearing that
Legolas has taken Haldir as a partner and I force myself to sit straight despite
the feeling. I have known for a long time that my fair prince would not be able
to remain unmarried upon the throne, I just never would have imagined that he
would take a male partner and even more so the last remaining Lorien elf in
Middle Earth. “I bring a message from my king to Elrond concerning the marriage
of his son Elladan to my kings daughter.” My mouth goes suddenly dry at the
words Haldir speaks as he produces a neatly rolled message from beneath his
coat. Before I can say anything there is a screeching of birds from the woodland
behind Haldir and I see movement amongst the shadows. Instantly my guards are at
my side weapons drawn as the messenger looks cautiously behind him without
drawing his own weapons. Haldir’s actions are not ones of a warrior in worry of
his life and it strikes me as odd as he turns back quickly seemingly unmoved by
the shadows behind him.

“You do not come alone.” My voice does not waver as Haldir shifts upon his horse
to throw a glance over his shoulder towards the trees.

”I come as you find me, bearing a message of importance. I travel with no one
accept the birds and my shadow.” I am not convinced by his act and move my steed
forward from the surroundings of my guards so that I am barely a meter from the
messenger.

“Do not lie Haldir of Lothlorien, you may travel with a shadow but one that
takes physical form all the same. Let you reveal your true coming to Rivendell
and your companion in the trees, less I have your head for treason.” Haldir
swallows heavily but his emotionless facade does not falter. For a moment there
is a thick silence of anticipation but before Haldir can make his reply a figure
upon horseback shifts out from the boarder of trees behind him.

“It seems Estel that your abilities have not dimmed at all with your escalation
to king. I am surprised, I have heard that you do very little for yourself now
days and have become quite a sloth.” The melodic voice that emanates from the
rider is instantly recognisable. My heart leaps ten fold into my throat and I
have to swallow convulsively around the lump it creates. My guards move to
attack the rider for his insolence but I stay them with a shaky hand and chuckle
quietly to myself.

”And I hear the king of Mirkwood has not lost his youthful sharp tongue. Less
you were younger than me I’d have ripped it out for your cheekiness.” I watch as
the rider moves down to stand next to Haldir before he stops and pulls his hood
from his head. Like all those years ago when I first saw him at the council my
breath is once again stolen from me at his appearance. In his older age he has
not lost any of his beauty and glows more so from his increased wisdom. The
guards around me gasp at the sight but I do not react, an elf as beautiful as
Legolas does not grace their presence often, let them relish in his light like I
have done so many times before. He smiles at me widely and nods his head in
acknowledgement of the truce our banter has come to.

“Aragorn, it is good to see you. You have weathered the years kindly.” I thank
him in elfish before allowing him to continue. “Tell me of this illness my
messengers have talked off, that has fallen upon Rivendell. Is there a cure to
be found and is the Lord in any danger.” Legolas stares at me his piercing blue
eyes making me shiver. Deep within them I see the same youthful elf I once knew
but on the exterior I see only a king concerned about his companions and lasting
kin. I sigh heavily and shake my head sadly.

“Lord Elrond is still gravely ill and I fear he gets worse as the days move on.
I struggle to find medicines among Rivendell’s depleted supplies and I have not
enough men to spare leaving the sick to gather more in my quest for a cure. This
illness has been brought by a man from Arnor and I am unable to receive word
from that city on what it could possible be. I will not risk having my men leave
Rivendell encase of spreading the infection but I must know what this illness is
before I can find a cure.” Legolas takes in all the information silently his
face emotionless as he considers what is to be done. For a moment he speaks to
Haldir in Quenya and I do not understand all of it. The pair exchange hasty
conversation before Legolas finally looks back at me and smiles softly.

“I will have supplies from Mirkwood’s plentiful store brought and left here at
the ford for you, so that your men will not come into contact with mine. I will
not risk the infection entering my home less it destroy us like it has
Rivendell. I shall have healers ride to Arnor and will send word if they find
anything of usefulness in your quest for a cure. I am saddened that I can not be
by the Lord’s side in his time of need but I have Mirkwood to consider now.” I
nod understandingly although deep down I know that Legolas is beside himself
that he cannot be with Elrond. He is no longer the innocent youth he was when
the fellowship departed. Before me now stands a king of elves his duty to his
people and none other. Both he and I have given up our lives for those of our
people.

“Thank-you Legolas.” He smiles a faint distant smile towards me his eyes
betraying his saddened heart as they see through me to the woodlands of Imaldris
behind me “Would you wish to me convey your original message of joyous union
between your realms to Elrond when he has woken in the morn?”  I watch as
Legolas moves awkwardly upon his mount and without thinking Haldir reaches
across and places a gentle hand upon that of his king. It is met with cold
acceptance as Legolas shakes it immediately off and moves to stare back at me a
guilt washing his face.

“No…..” Legolas is hesitant as he pauses momentarily to compose himself. “The
message was not conveyed correctly and its real contents is of little matter in
this time of darkness for the Lord of Imaldris. You will of course convey my
sympathies and remind the lord that the people of Mirkwood share his pain and
will help him where we can.” Once again I nod understandingly watching as Haldir
whispers something quietly into Legolas’s side, inaudible to my own ears. “Now I
fear we must leave the night draws on and we have many leagues to ride to return
to our home boarders.”

“I understand Greenleaf, it has been most rewarding to see you again, it is
shame it could not have been in happier circumstances.” The blonde haired elf
smiles distantly at me and tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Before
you go may I ask but a small favour of you.” Before the elves can turn around to
exit the ford I raise my hand to pause them, remembering my original musings
this morning.

“Speak your favour and I shall see to it.” Legolas glance back at me waiting
patiently for my reply.

”Elrond’s son’s Elladan and Elrohir have not been seen in these woods for more
than four cycles, I think it would aid their father’s recovery if they were to
be found and escorted to his bedside.” My unspoken favour is met with an
unusually curt nod from Legolas who gives no other reply apart from the small
acknowledgement before he turns and rides swiftly into the thick forest on the
other side of the ford, Haldir quick on his heels. I watch them leave and note
the several shadows that move with the king apart from Haldir. I smile to
myself. Legolas is no fool he would not have come alone and unprotected despite
his warriors breeding. I sigh heavily and turn back to head towards the house.
My heart still flutters with little mercy inside my chest as the image of
Legolas floods my mind. After all these years my heart still pines for only one
elf and he no longer cares.

TBC……………………………