The Boon

Title: The Boon
Author: TICS
Rated: NC17
Genre: Romance, AU, Slash
Pairings: Elrond/Legolas
Summary: Legolas is sent by his father to Elrond of Imladris as part of an agreement to cement relationships between the two realms.
Disclaimer: I own nothing that could possibly be construed as being valuable to anyone.

A/N: Requested by MDarkdreamer, who threw the bunny at my feet. The bunny was covered in super glue...it wasn't my fault.

Note: //____// indicates a flashback. *____* indicates italics.


The Boon, Chapter One


*Dol Guldor, Realm of Mirkwood, Third Age*

"My Lord Saruman, we have word that the fell beasts of the Necromancer have yet again made an attack across the river in the realm of Rohan...there are reports of many of the Secondborn falling to their wicked jaws," the scout said, after pressing his fist to his heart and bowing his head before the great White wizard.

"What care we for the Secondborn? Were our own people threatened? Perhaps this Necromancer seeks to do the Firstborn a favor by exterminating those who seek to usurp our position and lands!" Saruman growled, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the head of the scout at the semi-circle of wizards and elves who stood before him.

"The Nazgul are creatures of evil! Innocent blood has been shed...how can you find fault with the victims, no matter what their blood?" Elrond Half-Elven cried, frowning at the tall, white-haired wizard.

"Silence! What would you suggest, Elrond of Imladris? That we send our own warriors out to die in defense of those who would steal our lands and our treasures? Their blood runs in your veins alone...not in ours!" Saruman roared, pointing one long, gnarled finger at the Elf Lord.

"Yes! We should send our warriors out to destroy them!" A new voice cried as another Elf stepped forward, his golden brows knit in a fierce frown. "These beasts of the Necromancer dwell within my realm! Who will they attack next? Their evil spreads like a pool of black, rancid oil over my lands, drowning everything it touches in its foul depths. Who will be next to find themselves under attack? The Wood-Elves? My people? What then will you say in defense of the Necromancer? That the Silvans also deserve to die?"

"SILENCE, THRANDUIL OROPHERION! You are here only as a courtesy! You have no voice on the White Council!" Saruman roared, pointing his staff in Thranduil's direction.

"He may not, but I have!" Elrond interjected, positioning himself between the King of the Woodland Realm and the White Wizard. "Your tongue gives me pause, Saruman! Too often do you seek to make excuses for the Necromancer's actions! What say you, Radagast? Mithrandir? Alatar? Pallando? What say you of these newest attacks?"

"No attack on an innocent people, be they Firstborn or Second, should be tolerated," Radagast said, casting Saruman a baleful glance. "We will muster our forces and attack at first light."

Thranduil's breath was ragged and his chest heaved with anger. This White Wizard cared not for Thranduil's position as King, nor for the Elves whom were his responsibility to protect. It seemed Sarumon cared only for Sarumon, and Thranduil wondered if any others on the Council saw the inisidious streak of evil that seemed to pulse deep within the White Wizard's heart as clearly as Thranduil did. Evidently not, for they all still seemed to trust him.

Pushing past Elrond he stalked off into the forest, seeking solitude before his anger caused him to lose his self-control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You must remember that he is Istari, Thranduil...he is not as we are," Elrond said quietly as he caught up with fuming Elf-King deep within the forest, far from the Council's meeting place. "His mind envelopes that which we cannot comprehend."

"His mind envelopes that which serves his purpose only!" Thranduil shot back, turning to glare at the Elf-Lord. "My people are too near to this place...I will not lose a single elfling to the Necromancer simply because Sarumon thinks them not worthy of defense!"

"He did not infer that the Firstborn of the Woodland Realm should not be protected! He spoke only of the Secondborn of Rohan. He may have a point...why should Elven blood be spilled on their account?" Elrond asked, his voice steady and calm.

"I have no love for the Usurpers - you know this, Elrond. But you, yourself, are of their blood! Have you no pity for them? The Necromancer does not discriminate between the First and Secondborn of Ilúvatar!" Thranduil shot back, facing off with Elrond.

"My choice was to be counted among the Eldar, Thranduil...I am no more of the Afterborn than you, yourself are...and do not seek to put words into my mouth. I did not say they should not be protected...I only questioned as to the why of it. In truth, in my heart I believe as you do...that all innocent life must be protected against the fell beasts of the Necromancer."

"Then stand with me against Saruman! Go with me to Mithrandir...help me convince him that Saruman's heart has been contaminated by the Necromancer's evil!" Thranduil pleaded, spreading his hands out before him, beseeching Elrond. "Before it is too late...before Saruman allows the Necromancer to destroy my people!"

"What purpose would this serve me, Thranduil? To turn against a wizard would bring down his wrath against my own people! Should you be wrong in your assumption, Saruman will destroy your realm and my own!" Elrond replied, folding his arms across his chest. "Are you certain that it is fear for your people that causes you to speak thusly, and not simply a dislike for the White Wizard and his power?"

"What boon can I offer you to prove to you that I speak honestly, and that I truly believe the fate of our own people hang in the balance, Elrond? Whatever you wish, it is yours. I need your help to convince Mithrandir...that much Saruman spoke in truth - I have no voice on the White Council," Thranduil asked, his face etched with heartfelt purpose.

Elrond fell silent, his keen eyes observing the Elf before him. Thranduil was correct, of that Elrond had no doubt...the Half-Elven felt the same. But to go against the powerful wizard would jeopardize both their realms...they needed solidarity in order to keep their respective peoples safe. He came to a decision.

"Your son."

Thranduil's eyes widened at Elrond's words. "My son? What has my son to do with this?" he asked, staring hard at the Imladris Lord.

"Send him to me. A broken chain is weak, Thranduil. Our realms must be linked together if we are to remain strong," Elrond explained. His eyes developed a far-away look, as if seeing something off in the distance. "I see a great battle looming, Thranduil. Another War, bloodier and more far-reaching than the War of the Last Alliance. Peace will be hardwon and many of our people will die...the fate of all Arda depends on the strength of your Realm and mine, and yet we may still lose. The outcome of this War is far from certain," he whispered. His eyes refocussed on the Woodland Elf King. "Send me your son."

"You have a wife!"

"She has sailed, and this has no bearing on my marriage to her. The purpose of this sacrifice is solely to unite our realms...our blood must be as one if we are to prevail, Thranduil. By my receiving your son into my House all three of the Great Elven Realms will be linked. You asked what boon you could offer me...offer me your blood...your kinship."

Thranduil turned away, his mind racing. He could see no other way. Turning back to Elrond he said quietly, "So be it. He shall come to you."

Nodding, Elrond and Thranduil clasped forearms in agreement, then headed back to where the White Council remained to seek out Mithrandir and convince him of their fears concerning Saruman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The Last Homely House, Third Age, after the Fall of Dol Guldor*


Silently, the riders rode single file past the gates into Rivendell, flanked by an escort of Imladris Guardians. Hooded and cloaked in the colors of Mirkwood, they looked neither left nor right as they approached the House of Elrond.

Dismounting, they bowed as one before the Lord of Imladris, who stood on the white stone steps of his House, his keen eyes searching the shadowed faces before him, trying to determine which of these fair-haired Elves was the one he had been expecting.

"Hail, Kinsmen from the East. Welcome to Imladris and my House," he said, nodding at his visitors. "Which of you is the son of Thranduil?"

The Elf who stood in the center of the line of newly arrived Elves straightened his spine and seemed to take a deep breath before lowering his hood and looking up at the Elf Lord. "I am Legolas," he answered, his brilliant blue eyes meeting the dark gray of the Imladris Lord. His voice sounded far steadier than he felt. "I have come as promised to fulfill the oath given you by my father, King Thranduil Orophorion of the Woodland Realm."

"You have been long expected, Legolas Thranduillion," Elrond replied. "Your party is hereby granted the hospitality of my House," he continued, motioning to the Elves who stood with him on the steps. "Their comfort will be seen to...come with me," he directed, motioning for Legolas to follow him.

Turning, he led the son of Thranduil into his House, leaving the Prince's party to the care of his servants. He chose not to speak again until they had reached the privacy of his office. Once there, he offered Legolas a seat on a sturdy leather chair, and called for refreshments to be brought in. Seating himself behind his desk, he quietly observed the Mirkwood Prince.

By far, Elrond had to admit, Legolas Thranduillion was the most fair Elf he had ever encountered in all of his long years. Never could he remember seeing an Elf with so lovely a countenance...not even his own Evenstar could approach the Prince's beauty. Pale skin, unblemished and unmarked glowed with health and youth, his cheeks endearingly flushed with his unease under Elrond's scrutiny. Eyes brighter than a clear summer sky looked down rather shyly at his hands, his exquisite face framed by a mantle of thick, golden hair. Kept back from his high, smooth forehead by the tiny warrior braids of the Woodland Elves and a gracefully scrolled mithril circlet, his hair shimmered in the light like a curtain of molten gold, reaching nearly to his waist. Slender and slim-hipped, his shoulders spoke of his reputation as an archer...even here in Imladris word of his skill had spread.

"I trust that your father has explained the reason for sending you to me?" Elrond asked finally, when his eyes had drunk their fill of the beauty of the Prince.

"Aye, my Lord...he has. I have been sent to fulfill the promise he made to you...to unite our Houses," Legolas replied dutifully, lifting his sapphire eyes up to meet Elrond's gaze.

"Know you what this means? What is expected of you?"

"Aye...I am to go to your bed, my Lord," Legolas answered, his voice hardly above a whisper. His blush intensified as he spoke, his eyes darting back down to his hands. He seemed to gather strength from some place deep within himself, and his eyes lifted once more to meet the Elf Lord's own, steady and serene. "I am ready to do whatever is asked of me to fulfill my father's pledge."

Nodding, Elrond rose and walked to the door of his office, opening it to admit the servants who waited, their hands bearing platters of tea and small cakes. They bustled inside their Lord's office, offering Legolas deep bows and setting the refreshments on Elrond's desk. Departing, they once again bowed to both the Prince and the Lord of Imladris, and Elrond closed the door once more behind them.

"Eat...drink, Prince Legolas, surely you must be in need of food. And rest, as well...your journey has been long. I have had chambers readied for you near my own. My House is your House...you may freely avail yourself of any comfort I have to offer you."

"You have my thanks, my Lord Elrond," Legolas replied, although he made no move to help himself to the offerings. His stomach, he feared, would not tolerate even the smallest sip of water at the moment. He had been dreading this moment since the first time his father had told him of the arrangement and now that it was here, and he had presented himself to Lord Elrond, he felt cold panic creeping up his spine just as it had when Thranduil had first informed him that he had been promised to the Elf Lord. It was all Legolas could do to remain seated and not bolt from the room.

//"Adar...surely you jest! How could you have agreed to this? You would willingly send your son into the bed of another? You would use him as trade goods to secure your Kingdom? I refuse!" Legolas shouted, his face paling and his shoulders trembling at the news.

"I would do whatever is necessary to secure the well-being and safety of my people!" Thranduil roared, his hands balling into tight fists. "And you will do the same! It is your responsibility as my son and as Prince of the Woodland Realm to do whatever is in your power to keep the people from harm! Would you shame me and your kin by failing in your duty? Would you put all at risk for the sake of your pride?"//


Legolas' face flushed with shame remembered as his father's words came back to haunt him. He had, of course, come to terms with the importance and neccessity of his fate, and had understood and forgiven his father for having committed him to the Lord of Imladris, but still his insides quivered. He knew little of what to expect, and the little he was privy to did not sound pleasant. He worried what life would hold for him here, in the The Last Homely House, and whether he should ever lay eyes again on his homeland. Nonetheless, he lifted his head and held it high, truly ready to do his utmost to seal the bargain made between rulers so long ago.

Elrond watched the expressions that danced across the Prince's fair face, knowing the demons the young one fought within himself. He found a great wealth of respect rise within him for Thranduil's son as the Elf sat silently and resolutely before him, visually swallowing his fear and resigning himself to what must be. A small smile graced the Elf Lord's face and he gestured to Legolas to stand. "Come," he said, taking hold of Legolas' elbow and leading him toward the door. "My servants shall see you made comfortable in your new quarters."

"My thanks, my Lord," Legolas replied, hearing the unspoken order in Elrond's voice. He would go to his chambers to refresh and rest himself...and prepare himself for the Elf Lord's bed.

Nodding respectfully to Elrond, Legolas allowed himself to be led away by the servants, remembering to keep his head high and his spine straight, despite the unease that coursed through his veins.

TBC...