Title: Price of Peace 1 Author: Tesekian Email: Tesekian@yahoo.co.uk Any feedback will be gratefully received, even the bad stuff as long as it’s helpful. Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn eventually. I've not got any others planned. Rating: It will be NC-17, but it isn't yet. Summary: AU. When Mirkwood and Gondor form an alliance, ancient laws over treaties with mortal races demand that one of the king's family be sent to the serve the mortal king. How will Legolas survive in a city of men? Will he ever be able to call it home? Warnings: None as of yet, but plots have an annoying habit of changing without warning me about it beforehand. Archive: Ask first, I’ll probably say yes. Author’s notes: This is an AU, and all the stuff about the treaty is made up. You’d probably have guessed that anyway, but it should be mentioned. Chapter One The city was looming near. In less than an hour he would be inside, his doom inescapable. Not that it wasn't already. The chains around his wrists weren't what kept him there, riding with the escort of men towards Minas Tirith. He was held in his place by the oath he had sworn to his father and by his duty to his people. For the treaty to hold, by the ancient laws one of the king's family must be given, as a gesture of trust, to serve the king of men. Legolas knew the consequences if he did not fulfil the terms of the treaty, going as slave to this foreign land. He rode, head held with honour and pride, a symbol of Mirkwood's faith not its surrender. For the lifetime of the current king he would serve loyally, and then be allowed to return to his home. If he should fail, he would bring nothing but death to his homeland and as such would be denied forever entrance to all elven realms. One man's life was not so long, he told himself, not to an elf. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, steeling himself not to cry. He had cried enough when his father had described the necessity, and when they had said goodbye. He wasn't angry anymore, though he had been at first. They had sat together, viewing the laws of the treaty so many times in case there was something they had missed, some way to avoid this. All that was left was the grief. Eyes turned towards the group as they entered the city. Legolas tried not to look, as people stared at him, many with a hunger in their eyes that he found repulsive. He kept his gaze proudly in front of him, his head high. He would not be ashamed by this. He was doing what was honourable. They arrived eventually at the palace, away from the staring crowds, but it brought him no relief. He was about to meet the one who would be his master. Legolas was bound to obey him no matter what he wanted, and from the stares he had received he had little doubt what would be wanted of him. He dismounted from his horse, and one of the escort moved up to him with the length of chain that locked into the manacles around his ankles. He had been allowed to have his legs free for riding, but whenever they had stopped, no matter how brief the pause, they had chained his legs. While riding, lead ropes tethered his horse to two of the escort. Legolas hadn't bothered telling them that his horse was capable of getting away from them if he had wished. Once the chains were in place, the men gently guided Legolas up the stairs into the palace, watching as a groom led away his horse. He was a little worried, since he had no way of knowing how humans treated their animals, and he had no desire for the horse to be hurt. The group walked through a large entrance hall. Legolas barely got a glimpse of the impressive masonry when he was taken through into a corridor. It was wide enough for the men to walk three abreast, so a row walked in front of him and one behind, with one man on either side, gripping his arms loosely, but it a manner that implied it could be tightened in an instant. Legolas wondered why they took such precautions, since he'd never shown an inclination to escape. A voice cut through the stillness of the palace, and the group came to a halt. "Is this Prince Legolas?" a man asked. He walked confidently up, sure of his right to do so, and gave Legolas an appraising glance. Legolas in turn inspected the man. He held himself almost as proudly as the elf before him, fair hair waved around a handsome face and brushed elegantly robed shoulders. "He is, my lord," the leader of the group answered, "sent by King Thranduil according to the terms of the treaty." The man nodded. Legolas decided that this must be King Elessar, and looked closer. He didn't appear cruel, though cruelty often hid beneath the surface. He gave Legolas a friendly smile, that did nothing to help him relax. "The king is in an important meeting with his steward," the man said, shattering Legolas' assumptions, "I shall see to the prince. I'm sure your company are weary after your long journey." "Yes, my lord." One of the men stepped forward and handed this lord the bow and small bag of possessions that Legolas had refused to leave behind in Mirkwood. There was a quiver made to match the bow, but he hadn't brought with him any arrows to fill it. "He insisted on bringing these, my lord." "I'm sure the king will decide later if he should be allowed to keep them. Thank you." The group dispersed, and Legolas stood alone with this stranger. He was grateful that this man displayed none of the lust that many others had shown for him. Hopefully this man's tastes turned to women rather than males. "My name is Faramir," the man said, "I am brother to the Steward of Gondor." "It is an honour to meet you," Legolas said, "I am Prince Legolas Thrandulion of Mirkwood." He didn't need to state his own name, but the polite introduction required it. "If you'll come this way," Faramir indicated along the corridor. Legolas followed half a step behind them man, surprised at the way he was being treated. If it weren't for the chains he wore, he might have been an honoured guest rather than a slave. The rooms he was taken to clearly belonged to the king. There was a small sitting room, a door opening to a balcony and another leading through to a bedroom. A door from there, according to Faramir, led to the bathroom. The furnishings were elegant and grand, as they might be expected to be. Still, the rooms were light and airy, with plenty of windows and another balcony off from the bedroom. There were far worse prisons, he told himself. Faramir went to a small chest that stood beside a much larger one, and took out some pale blue robes made from a soft material. He laid them over the back of a chair then gave Legolas an encouraging smile. "You may bathe and change before dinner," he said. "Surely you mean I must," Legolas said, annoyed at the man's kindly tone. He knew he was a slave here, and it felt patronising for Faramir to talk like this. "No," Faramir said, "I mean you may. The king understands that you will be tired from your journey, and may need time to adjust to your new position. He won't ask you to come down for dinner if you don't feel like it." "Will he expect me to on other days?" "I do not know my lord's mind on all things," Faramir told him, "but I think it likely that he will." "Then I will tonight. After all, I must adjust to my new position." "I may not know everything about Elessar," Faramir said, "but I know a lot. You need fear no hurt from him." Only a short while ago he would have said that he feared no man. Now it was not true. He feared what might be demanded of him, what he had allowed no one take, what he would be honour bound to give, though it cost him his honour to do so. Faramir placed Legolas' belongings against one wall, before turning to the elf. "You have sworn the oath according to the treaty's law?" Faramir inquired. "I swore it before my father," Legolas answered. Pleased with the answer, Faramir knelt in front of him and removed the chains from Legolas' ankles, followed by his wrists. The manacles, however, remained tightly closed about his limbs. A few moments later, Legolas stood alone in the king's bedchamber. For the first time in over a week there was no one standing there beside him, watching his every move. Finally released, tears flowed quickly from his eyes, a rain of grief. He went through into the bathroom and waited for the tears to stop, before scrubbing all trace of them from his eyes with clean water. It would not do to seem weak when the king first saw him. Legolas washed and changed, and returned to the bedchamber in robes that fit him well enough. He glanced at himself in a full length mirror. The clothes suited him and his eyes looked no worse for his tears. Anyone looking at him might think him merely tired. He wasn't though: he was exhausted. The journey would have been tiring at best, but he had barely been able to sleep for the gaze of some of the men. All watched him closely, but two of them watched with restrained desire. It was probably only the thought of their king's punishment that kept their hands from molesting him. Legolas went out onto the balcony and looked across the city. It was impressive, almost beautiful with its white stone, but there wasn't enough green. The few flowering plants that grew in pots on the balcony weren't enough for the elf. He thought of the great trees of Mirkwood, the dense thickets, the thick undergrowth. A mass of life. Tears began to fall again unbidden, and exhaustion crept over him. He fell asleep, staring across the strange city and crying. *** It was there King Elessar found him a few hours later. The sun had set and a cool breeze was blowing through the open balcony door. He went to it, and saw the sleeping elf, damp streaks on his cheeks where the tears had run. Pity filled him for this poor creature. The elf looked innocent, almost childlike, as he sleep hunched up beside the small flowers. He reached down and shook Legolas gently, speaking softly so as not to startle him on waking. "Come, you cannot sleep here all night." Without really waking, Legolas blinked up at him and accepted help getting to his feet. Elessar guided him to the bed and helped him lay down on the blankets. The elf was instantly asleep again, and didn't even stir as Elessar pulled the blankets from under him and tucked them gently around his sleeping form. Elessar paused a moment to look down at him. He was exquisitely beautiful, more so than any other elf he had seen. The temptation was too much, and he leant down to place a gentle kiss on the perfect forehead. Then he went into the bathroom quietly to change for dinner. He'd have someone sent up food in case the elf woke, but doubted he'd do so until the morning. If then. Elessar didn't think he'd ever seen someone so tired. He was ready when the soft knock came on the outer door. He opened it, finding two curious elves trying to peer round him and into his rooms. His other slaves, though he sometimes wished they'd act the role, had come to meet their new companion. He just hoped they wouldn't teach Legolas bad habits, since he had enough difficulty with just the two of them, despite numerous threats to call off the treaty with Rivendell and send them back to their father if they didn't behave. "You'll see him in the morning," Elessar told them. "Worn him out already?" one of them grinned cheekily. "Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, Elladan," Elessar ordered. "But they're no fun unless they're shared," Elrohir commented, a grin identical to his brother's on his face. Elessar shoed them from his rooms and closed the door, leaving Legolas to his rest. The prince had gone through a lot, and Elessar didn't begrudge him his peace, however short-lived it might be. *** Legolas woke and instantly tensed up, feeling an arm draped across his waist and a hot body lying behind him. He looked about him, panicked, at the unfamiliar bedroom, and frantically sought through his memories for anything that might have happened to bring him to this position. He didn't relax even when he assured himself that nothing had happened. He had simply fallen asleep, though he had no memory of coming inside. Whoever was sharing the bed with him stirred at this change in the elf. He removed his arm quickly, obviously sensing the tension in Legolas' body. Legolas tried to make himself relax, telling himself that he would have to face this truth eventually. He turned over, looking for the first time on his new master. The man appeared quite young for one of his kind, but the grey eyes that met Legolas' were filled with experience and wisdom. He smiled gently at Legolas, obviously trying to be comforting. His face was handsome, framed by dark hair slightly dishevelled through sleep. There was no appearance of evil in him, and little evidence of the desire Legolas dreaded. "How do you feel?" Elessar asked. "Well, thank you, my lord." Legolas couldn't bring himself to call this man 'master,' though he knew he might well be forced to do such a thing. Elessar made no comment on Legolas' choice of address. He climbed from the bed and stretched out well-formed muscles. Legolas lay for a moment, and admired the man's toned body. He wore only loose leggings, a smooth torso open to Legolas' gaze. At least King Elessar was not repulsive in appearance. Given what he would be made to do, that was a small comfort, but one he seized nonetheless. Legolas realised he should take the initiative from his master and climbed from the bed. He was still wearing the robes he had dressed in the night before. They were now crumpled and very much less formal. The man pulled some clothes out of a wardrobe. Legolas wondered if he would be expected to dress him. Elessar didn't say. Instead he opened the small chest from which Faramir had taken the robes. "Trousers or robes?" he asked. "Pardon?" Legolas was confused by the question. "Would you prefer to wear trousers or robes?" the man spoke slowly, perhaps thinking that Legolas didn't speak much of the common tongue. It was true that he spoke usually in elvish at ho... back in Mirkwood, but he was still fluent in this language. "I'd prefer to wear trousers," Legolas answered. He was more than a little surprised to be offered a choice, but was glad of it. He accepted the tunic and trousers Elessar handed to him with thanks. "You may wash first," Elessar gestured towards the bathroom, "A wash, mind. I know that if an elf starts to bathe the process can take hours, and I fear you will faint if you wait that long for breakfast." The man's grin suggested he was jesting, but Legolas was not sure how to respond. He smiled, and hoped that was acceptable. Elessar made no complaint about it, which would do for now. Legolas ducked into the bathroom and made sure the door was closed firmly behind him before washing and changing as swiftly as he could. The man offered him a hairbrush and then took his place in the bathroom. Legolas sat in a comfortable chair, where he had a good view of the mirror, and began brushing and braiding his hair. During the long journey he had barely had time to brush it out, and so had left the braids as they had been on leaving Mirkwood. The journey had done little for their neatness, which he had always prided himself on before. He had just finished the small braid above his right ear when Elessar emerged from the bathroom. For some reason he chuckled at the sight of Legolas. "You're as bad as they are," he grinned. He didn't explain who 'they' were, or what they were bad about, and Legolas felt it might be considered impertinent to ask. He remained silent as the man came to stand behind him and ran his fingers through the blond hair. It took him a few moments to realise that the man was tying the long braid that ran down the back of his head. Legolas supposed he had seen the style on the elves with whom he had discussed the treaty, and began to work on the other small braid. His hair was done quickly, and Legolas inspected it in the mirror, surprised to see that the man had plaited it in perfect elven style. The elf who looked out of him, dressed in green tunic and trousers, with impeccable hair, looked no different from the one who had always done so in Mirkwood. He might be a slave, but that did nothing to change who he was, and he was a prince. He followed the king from the rooms, and came to a small dining room. Six places were laid, but only one was occupied when the entered. Faramir stood instantly and waited until the king was seated before sitting again. Legolas sat at the place indicated for him, wondering when his duties were going to begin. It seemed he wasn't to perform ordinary tasks such as waiting at table, which only made him more worried for what his duties would be. Servants stepped forward and began serving their king. Legolas was next to be served, confusing him slightly, as the place in front of Faramir remained empty. In Mirkwood, it would have been reasonable to serve a prince following the king, but here Legolas was a slave and so should come last. He began eating the plate of fruit and bread set before him. He noted that there was some meat on the king's plate and some eggs on Faramir's. Were such things considered too good for a slave? Legolas didn't mind, preferring his meal to either of the others. They had barely begun eating when a thumping sound heralded another arrival, though it sounded more like a pack of orcs than a man. The man, when he entered, was similar in appearance to Faramir, the main difference being the expression of irritation on his face. That probably explained the stomping. "I swear," he snarled angrily, "if you can't find a way to control those two slaves of yours I'll take a lash to them myself!" He dragged a chair out from the table and flung himself onto it. "Boromir!" Elessar snapped. Boromir looked at him, the tone of voice breaking him from his cocoon of anger. The man, Boromir, noticed Legolas, apparently for the first time. "My apologies," Boromir said, "I did not mean to cause offence." Legolas stared at the table in front of him. "There is no need to apologies," he said, "I am fully aware of my position." His voice was filled with sadness and unshed tears. So far everyone had skirted around the subject, but now this man had voiced by name his new role. Slave. He wondered briefly about the two slaves Boromir that was talking about, and what they had done to incur his wrath. Judging from the man's tone, he would be more than willing to punish anyone for doing something wrong, and Legolas was glad that it was King Elessar who would have say over punishments. Though the lash comment made Legolas worried that Elessar beat his slaves when he felt they deserved it. "What have they done this time?" Elessar asked. Legolas glanced up, and saw that he was addressing Boromir. "I don't know, but it's had them yelling all morning. It's enough to try an Ent's patience. You'd think they could allow me one night of sleep." Elessar never had the chance to answer, because a cry of pain from the corridor carried into the dining room. Voices followed it, growing steadily louder as the owners of the voices approached the room. They spoke, or rather shouted, in furious elvish. There was something that might have been a groan or a chuckle from Elessar, and something that was definitely a groan from Boromir. "Let go!" a voice yelled. "You're hurting me!" "It serves you right!" another, identical voice yelled. "I should pull the stuff from your head!" "At least I wounded nothing but your vanity! You're trying to kill me!" "Killing you would be too quick!" There was another cry of pain, though Legolas couldn't have guessed which of the combatants gave it. "I didn't even touch you!" "You knew what would happen!" "Of course I knew. Unlike you I'm not stupid!" "You're stupider than an orc!" "At least I'm not as ugly as one!" "We both look the same!" At that moment two elves burst into the room. Legolas thought they did look identical, apart from the hairbrush that was stuck in the hair of one of them. The other looked as though someone had tried to yank out one of his braids. The one with the hairbrush appeared to be trying to grab hold of the other's hair again. This one escaped the grasp and leapt over the table. Faramir moved his plate just in time to avoid having it trodden in and then carried on eating as though this was perfectly normal. "Coward!" the one with the hairbrush yelled across the table. "Narcissus!" the other yelled back. "BE QUIET BOTH OF YOU!" The two quarrelling elves fell silent and turned to look at King Elessar, glaring at them. "One order I give you," the king went on, in a much quieter tone, filled with anger, "one instruction, and you cannot even obey that. Do you want to return to Rivendell and explain to your father that the treaty has been called off because the two of you can't behave like civilised adults?" Legolas had studied the law of the treaty long enough to know that this threat couldn't be carried out, but it caused the elves to stop arguing. "He started it," the one with the hairbrush muttered. "I don't care who started it," Elessar said firmly, "I am finishing it. Sit down, both of you, and not another word about this!" Both elves were staring at him in somewhat of a shock. They sat down hurriedly, and the servants approached cautiously to serve out the meal. "You sounded just like Ada," the one with the hairbrush muttered. "Well, since you don't obey him any better than you obey me, I don't see what good that will do. If it can keep you quiet for just one meal I will count it as a miracle of the Valar." He ate a few more mouthfuls of his breakfast, and then spoke much more calmly. "Elladan, if you send a servant to the houses of healing and ask for some elderflower oil, riverwort and garlic, and you should produce a mixture that will wash away the glue. Providing, of course, that Elrohir is unimaginative and has used the same concoction he used on me." The elf with messed up hair nodded silently. Both elves began to grin slightly, and then exclaimed in unison, "That was funny!" "For you, maybe," Elessar said, though he was grinning as well now, "but it was highly embarrassing for me." "You got your revenge," Elrohir pointed out. "It would have been revenge," Elessar corrected, "if it had taken you almost a week to find a way of washing out the dye." "Now I know why these two are never punished for their pranks," Boromir said, "you're as bad as they are." "Personally, I think that having pink hair, if only for three days, was the perfect punishment for Elrohir, since both of them fuss too much over their hair." "I do not!" the elves exclaimed in unison, before returning to their previous occupation of glaring at each other across the table. Now Legolas understood Elessar's comment on seeing him braiding his hair. The same comment had been made about him on numerous occasions. He was more confused by this meal than any of the other confusing things that had happened. From what everyone had said, it was obvious that these two elves were slaves to the king, sent, it appeared, to fulfil the same treaty obligations as Legolas. Why then were they speaking so freely? They were even talking of gluing the king's hairbrush to his head! The king laughed with them as he would mischievous siblings, and only Boromir seemed to feel this situation was anything other than as it should be. Legolas wondered if, in time, he would be laughing to freely about his actions. Would he ever grow to enjoy his life here? It wasn't long before Elessar had finished his meal. He stood to leave, and everyone stood with him, even Elladan and Elrohir who hadn't yet finished eating. The king signalled for Legolas to come with him, and he followed obediently. Boromir also followed, though Legolas suspected that was to avoid the two elves, who had resumed their bickering the instant the king was out the door. "Do you think Lord Elrond would be too angry," Boromir asked, "if I pushed them from the top of the Tower of Ecthelion and told him they fell?" "He might be a little suspicious," Elessar answered, "given that he is gifted with foresight and extremely sensitive to his sons' wellbeing." Legolas listened thoughtfully. He had spent ages studying the treaty with his father, looking for any loophole to escape his enslavement. The law specified that one of the ruler's family must go, but never mentioned how close the relationship should be. In Mirkwood's case Legolas had been the only one, but for Rivendell it was unnecessary. Since the kings of Gondor were descended from Elros, Lord Elrond's brother, he could claim that one of his family was already in service to the king, being the king himself. Why then send his sons? Legolas doubted it was because he hadn't read the treaty thoroughly enough. Even so, the treaty was clear in stating that only one person need be sent. Boromir left down a side corridor, and Elessar led the way back to his rooms. Legolas tried to memorise the route, and that that he might be able to reach the dining room again should he attempt it. Elessar went straight for the tall cupboard in his bedchamber and took out a long, heavy robe. Legolas thought it must be horrifically uncomfortable to wear, weighing down on the shoulders and stifling the body beneath. Clearly Elessar felt the same, from the expression on his face as he began to put it on. Legolas stepped forward quickly to help lift the thing onto the king's shoulders. The king nodded his thanks, then went to an ornate box with a silver lock, opened by a key he took from a pocket of the tunic he wore beneath the robes. Out of this he lifted the crown of Gondor, wrought of gold and mithril. As he set it upon his head he looked every bit a king, proud and regal and distinctly uncomfortable. "I expect my duties will take me most of the day," the king said, "You are free to wander the palace during that time. There are some gardens, you have only to ask one of the servants and they will show you where to go." He glanced at the bow, leaning against the wall where Faramir had left it. "There is also an archery range if you wish to practice. The midday meal will be in the same room as breakfast. Again, just ask a servant if you need directions. If you come across the twins you could ask them for a tour, it might keep them out of trouble." He paused a moment, "Then again, perhaps not. I don't think anything short of chaining them in their rooms would keep those two out of trouble, and it's doubtful even that would work." He left then, and Legolas stood alone for a few moments. He had been given permission to go where he liked, and he had no intention of staying shut away in this room after that. He thought the garden was a good idea, having spent the night shut inside stone walls. He wasn't feeling the effects yet, but he knew that being away from living things could be dangerous. He left the room, and walked along the corridor towards the stairs. He was unlikely to get to the gardens on this floor. Once at ground level he could find someone and ask directions. The corridors he walked along were quiet, with no evidence of any helpful servants. The corridor opened into a small hall. Pillars stretched up to a high, arched ceiling. Walls and ceiling were decorated with forest scenes, and carvings of vine leaves climbed the pillars. He thought the room was deserted, then he heard a giggle, followed by a whispered conversation. He approached the source of the sound, and discovered the twins crouched in a corner behind a pillar, looking at something quickly whisked out of sight when they learned they weren't alone. "Hello," one of them asked, "care to join us?" "We're plotting a nice little trick for Boromir," the other added. No one would have guessed from their conspiring grins that they had been at each other's throats less than an hour before. Both seemed to have much neater hair than before, and all evidence of hairbrush and glue had vanished. "I'd rather not join in," Legolas said. He'd seen Boromir in a rage, and had no desire to have such a temper aimed at him, especially on his first day here. "Don't worry," one twin said, "Boromir may get angry but Estel won't let him hurt us." "Estel?" "King Elessar," the other twin explained, "When King Arathorn was killed the steward at the time, Denethor, decided that Elessar should be sent away, 'for his own safety.'" "We think that Denethor just wanted to be king in his place. Anyway, Elessar was sent to Rivendell, and he grew up with us under the name of Estel, as Ada didn't think he should know his true heritage until he was older." "So he's always been, and always will be, our little Estel." Legolas looked at them for a moment, and decided to ask the questions that had been plaguing him since breakfast. "Are you really slaves here?" They looked at each other. "One of us is." "It's you." "No, no, Ada loves me too much to sell me into slavery. It must be you." "Why would Ada send me away? I'm the well behaved one." "You're no more well behaved than I am human." "In which case I'm a quarter well behaved." He grinned at his brother, obviously feeling he'd won this argument. "One of is here because of the treaty," the other brother said, "but Ada just decided to send us both away for a while. So we live here, except when Estel's too annoyed with us or Boromir's threatening to kill us, at which point Estel finds some important letter that needs to be hand delivered to Rivendell and sends us back home. We then stay there for a while, until Ada gets too annoyed with us or Glorfindel's threatening to kill us, at which point we come back here." "It works, and it's not as though Estel actually treats us like slaves." "And it lets us avoid whoever's most angry with us at the time." "Perhaps you should try not angering people," Legolas suggested, grinning despite himself at the twin's talk. "Where's the fun in that?" the two asked together. "Sure you don't want to join in?" one twin asked. "No, thank you." He considered asking them for the tour that Elessar had suggested, but decided he'd rather stay away from them and avoid falling into the Steward's bad books. He had no intention whatsoever of getting into trouble, since he was well away from anyone who might help. "I don't suppose you know how I can find the gardens?" Legolas asked. "Just keep going the way you were going and you'll find them. They're hard to miss." Legolas nodded his thanks and walked through the hall, exiting by a door opposite to the one he had entered by. Sure enough the corridor beyond opened suddenly into the sunlight. It widened out, the walls curving gracefully to end in a huge doorway, letting light flood into the palace. The carved wooden doors were pinned back on the wall, open to all. The gardens were nothing like Mirkwood, but they were green and alive nonetheless. Mighty oaks and slender birches grew out of a wide expanse of lawn. A low wall, lined with birches held up a higher lawn, this one dotted with flowerbeds, shaped and set out with their specific colours. Legolas reached this by a short ascent of stairs. A circular pool, rimmed with rushes, seemed home to a group of ducks. Everything was neat and orderly, tended by gardeners discretely fishing out weeds from the earth. In Mirkwood everything had been wild and free. Here the plants were trimmed and held back, bound to their places. Like him. He walked along a gravelled path, feeling that treading on the grass was somehow forbidden. The reds and yellows of the blooming flowers shone about him, but ever present were the walls of the palace, hemming him in, keeping him as the small fences kept the shrubs from spreading beyond their limits. The freedom he had hoped to gain by stepping outside was nothing but an illusion. He sat down in the shade of a tall beech and wrapped himself in bleak, desolate thoughts. He shut his eyes and buried his head in his arms, resting on his knees. He didn't cry. Not out here, in the open. His tears would be shed in private, when there was no one to see his grief and fear. He didn't bother looking up when he heard someone approach. He assumed it would be one of the gardeners. If not, whoever it was would have no reason to stop and talk to one who clearly wanted to be left alone. "Hello, pretty one," a man's voice drawled, sickly sweet. Legolas looked up. The man standing over him might have been handsome if it weren't for his eyes, filled as they were with desire. "Hello," Legolas returned the greeting coldly. "One as lovely as you shouldn't be lonely." "I do not desire company." The man didn't listen. He came and sat next to Legolas, draping an arm around the elf's shoulders. Legolas tensed up, but made no move to force him away. He didn't know how the king would react if Legolas hurt someone who was, by his clothes, clearly a lord. "You don't get to say when you want company," the man said, leaning in whisper in Legolas' ear. He emphasised his statement by placing a kiss on Legolas' cheek. Legolas was on his feet before the mouth was even fully gone. He stood and faced the man, looking slightly perplexed by the elf's sudden movement. "I said that I do not want this," Legolas told him firmly. "You have no right to deny me," the man snarled angrily, rising to stand before Legolas, "Everyone knows why you're here. You're just the king's whore!" Legolas never planned to hit the man, or even realised he was doing it, until the man was sprawled on the ground, his head striking the trunk of the tree roughly. Legolas probably wouldn't have been so angered at the man's words if it weren't for the fact there was truth in them, and this entire situation made him furious. "What's going on?" Faramir was storming across the lawn towards them, two guards behind him dressed in the livery of the Tower. "This... fiend attacked me!" spat the man, "He deserves to be beaten!" Faramir's face told Legolas nothing about whether or not this tale was believed. "Neither you nor I," Faramir said calmly, "has the right to order such a punishment. This matter will have to be decided by the king." "You can't leave him wandering free until then," the man declared, "there's no knowing who he'll attack next." Faramir hesitated, looking to Legolas as though he expected some protest or denial. When none came, he gestured to the guards, who each grasped one of Legolas' arms and led him away. He didn't struggle. He had no wish to add to his punishment, for punishment he would surely receive. King Elessar would undoubtedly side with one of his own rather than an elven slave. So much for his intentions of staying away from trouble.