The Boon

Title: The Boon
Author: TICS
Rated: NC17
Genre: Romance, AU, Slash
Pairings: Elrond/Legolas, Elladan/Elrohir in this chapter
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 anyone might consider to be of any value.


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 Eleven, Conclusion


The forest seemed eeriely silent as the three Elves walked beneath the thick latticework of boughs. It also appeared to be unnaturally dark, for Anor's rays seemed unable to penetrate through the overhead thatching of branches, and a thick mist swirled along the ground, further obsuring one's vision.

Legolas paused, tilting his head as if listening for something. He was...and that he did not hear it sent an ominous sense of foreboding through his bones. Here in the heart of his father's forest, there was no sound of life at all...no chattering of squirrels...no birdsong...not even the chirping of insects. The forest seemed dead, and he shivered.

Nodding toward the Peredhil brothers who had accompanied him on his quest to find Estel in the gloom of his father's forest, the three warriors moved on, their feet adding no sound to the stifling silence all around them. Suddenly, Elladan pointed toward a bush off to their left.

Legolas knelt on the mist-shrouded ground, his fingers brushing away a few dead leaves to fully reveal a footprint in the softened earth. A small smile tilted his lips - he knew whose track it was. No Elf would leave a print behind him...only Men walked with such heavy steps. And no Man would find reason to be this deep in Thranduil's forest save one. Aragorn had passed this way, and the thought encouraged the Wood Elf to press on.

Another print, this one left on the bank of a small stream that meandered across the forest floor, its waters sluggish and tinted brown, as were all the waterways of Mirkwood since the Necromancer had touched them with his filth. The Elves crossed the stream and continued on.

Suddenly, from up ahead of them came a shout and the sounds of hissing and scuttling. Breaking into a run, bows drawn and arrows nocked, the Elves dashed through the brush toward the source of the sound.

Breaking through a screen of bushes, Legolas saw Estel surrounded by several bulbous black shapes...spiders, their fangs dripping venom, feinting in and out toward the Ranger as he swung his sword repeatedly in an arc trying to keep them at bay. One would dash in, trying to draw his attention and his sword, while another would attack from the other side. These monstrous children of Shelob were as clever as they were deadly.

Arrows flew from the bushes as the three Elves simultaneously opened fire on the ring of death that surrounded Aragorn. Each arrow found its mark, and between the archers and the Ranger the small clearing was soon littered with black spider carcasses.

Aragorn, breathing heavily and sweating profusely, sheathed his sword and touched his hand to his heart. "Thank you, my friends...it is good to see you!" he said, a small smile touching his bearded lips. "Your timing is impeccable!"

"How long have you been hunting the Gollum in my father's forest, Estel? You look terrible," Legolas scolded, immediately moving to check for himself whether or not Aragorn had sustained injury during the skirmish with the spiders.

"I am no longer a child, Legolas...I am fully capable of caring for myself," Aragorn retorted, pushing away the Elf's hands as he felt for bites and broken bones. Estel flinched when he realized that for all his words that purported him to be an adult, his words had sounded childish.

"Forgive me, Estel. I am merely concerned over your welfare. Too long have you been gone from Imladris, my young friend," Legolas said, smiling softly at the Ranger, so happy to see him that he chose to ignore the Man's petulance. "Why do you seek to lose yourself in the wilds? What is it that you seek out here, besides the Gollum? You will not find her here, you know."

"Perhaps that is why I remain in the forest...because I know that she will not be here," Aragorn said softly. His dark blue eyes looked saddened, and just a small bit angry.

"Estel, you have yet to tell her of your love for her. She has gone to Lothlorien because of your silence and absence, not because she wishes to avoid you...go there and tell her of what is in your heart," Legolas said softly, placing his hand on the Ranger's shoulder. "Besides...it grieves me to tell you this, but this forest is no longer safe for you, my friend. Mirkwood has aligned itself with the Men of Laketown. Soon we will be at war, and should our enemies breach these borders, any Man found here will be targeted."

"Even should I tell her of my feelings, she would only rebuff them. Her father has so instructed her!" Aragorn retorted, shaking his head at his long-time friend. "As for the rest, well...your enemy, Legolas, is mine enemy as well."

"Your friendship touches me," Legolas replied, placing his hand over his heart and inclining his head. His sapphire blue eyes darted swiftly back up to the Ranger's face. "But in this realm, in the absence of my father, I am the law. You must go...but go to Lothlorien. It is only there that you will find peace."

"Aye, Estel," Elladan said, speaking for the first time. He had just drawn another arrow from one of the spider carcasses and was wiping it free of ichor, readying it for reuse. Ever the practical one, Elladan had no wish to have to fashion new arrows, if those already spent were still usable. "You know our sister nearly as well as we do...you know that she will follow her heart, no matter what our Adar tells her."

"It is true, Estel," Elrohir chimed in, grinning at the Ranger. "She is nearly as stubborn as you!"

Aragorn couldn't help but smile at the raven-haired Peredhil twins. "So you two have finally found a way to get out of border patrol by escorting your father's husband to his homeland! Brilliant, dear brothers...simply brilliant." He wiped clean his sword and slid it into his scabbard. "It will be as you say...I will go to Lothlorien. But later. I will not leave you to fight alone."

"We do not fight alone, Estel. Go to Lorien, now, this very day. Before she is gone again and you lose your chance at happiness," Legolas said softly, but with such a tone of finality that Aragorn knew it would be hopeless to argue with him.

Sighing, and nodding his assent, Aragorn hugged Legolas tightly, then each of the Peredhil twins in their turn, and set off at a trot through the forest leaving the three Elves to find their way back to the Great Cavern.

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The battle raged, metal clashing against metal, tooth and claw scoring in flesh no less often than sword and arrow. It come to be as Elrond had forseen, Elf and Man battling against Dwarf until the first of Sauron's minions had reared its head over the rise and attacked both. From that moment on a truce, unspoken but no less binding because of its quiet nature, had been declared and as one the Elves, Men, and Dwarves had turned on the newcomers.

Blood flowed in rivers, soaking the ground with great crimson pools. Choking dust, raised by the many feet that trampled and scuffed the earth rose in billowing clouds, obscuring vision. Sometimes it became so thick that friend or foe could barely be discerned.

Legolas' twin knives whirled in a blur as the Elf slashed and sliced his way through the advancing hordes of Wolves and Orcs. Elladan and Elrohir, their swords singing no less busily than Legolas' knives, fought at his back as they had sworn to do. Shoulder to shoulder the identical Elves created a wall of death to any who dared try to breach it. Moving almost as one, they kept Legolas' back safe from the swords and claws and fangs of the minions of Sauron.

It was an arrow that finally breached their defenses.

Two huge wolves, their fangs dripping saliva and their yellow eyes nearly rolled back into their heads in their bloodlust attacked the twins at the same moment, and as Elladan and Elrohir brought death to the two lupine attackers a single arrow flew between them. A grunt of pain, nearly missed in their labors to subdue the wolves, reached their ears. Turning from the carcasses of the wolves before they had even fallen to the ground, their cries of sorrow filled the air.

Lying just in front of them, face down in the bloody mud, Legolas lay unmoving, an arrow shaft protruding from his back. The twins rushed to his side, Elladan standing over him, sword drawn, ready to strike at any who dared approach, while Elrohir knelt on the ground next to the Elf who had bound with his father. He felt his eyes well with wetness as he watched Legolas' jerkin soak through with the Elf's blood, then examined the arrow shaft. "Orc!" he called up to Elladan. "It will be barbed...and probably poisoned as well! We must get him back to the base camp, and quickly!"

Working together, graced by the Valar as none sought to attack them as they carried the Wood Elf between them, they carried Legolas away from the front line of battle.

They arrived at the base camp and took Legolas directly to the healer's tent, both breathing a sigh of relief when they reached it with Legolas still breathing. One look from Elrohir told the healers who would be taking charge of Legolas' care. The Peredhel would trust none but himself, having studied at the knee of his father since he was an elfling, with the care of his father's mate.

"'Ro," Elladan said quietly, the look of fear unmistakable in his gray eyes, "Orcs, again...like Mother..." A silent tear ran down his cheek as he looked beseechingly at his brother.

"Nay, not like Mother!" Elrohir growled, his own eyes looking steely in the torchlight of the tent. "He will not go to Mandos' Halls, nor sail to Valinor! The only place this Elf will go is home to our father's arms! Now, be strong, Elladan and fetch me that bowl of water!"

With quiet assurance, Elrohir gave orders to everyone within hearing, and soon had the Mirkwood healers and his brother hard at work doing whatever tasks were necessary to ensure the Prince's survival. With care and precise movements, Elrohir cut through the Wood Elf's garments and around the arrow shaft, exposing the wound. Already the edges of the wound were turning black from the poisoned barb of the arrow. With a sharp knife, he cut deeply, working to excise the barbed head from Legolas' flesh, unmindful of the moans that came from the Elf. "Hold him!" he cried to Elladan and another healer as Legolas began to thrash against the pain. Swiftly, Elrohir removed the arrow, head and all, and flushed the wound clean with fresh water. The wound was deep, but had not severed any vital organs, having missed the Elf's lungs and heart by a mere inch.

Elrohir packed the wound with a poultice of dried Athelas leaves, taken from the pouch of herbs that Elrohir never traveled without. The poultice would draw the poison from the wound and aid in healing the flesh. Bandaging the wound, Elrohir finally stepped back, straightened his spine and sighed. "'Tis the best any can do for him. With the blessings of the Valar, he will recover quickly."

"Elrohir...we must bring him home," Elladan said in a quiet whisper, not wishing the other healers to overhear him. "Father will be able to tend him better than any here."

"Nay, Elladan. He cannot travel in his condition...he is too weak from loss of blood. We shall see him settled, then travel ourselves home to tell father of what has happened. We cannot risk journeying with him in so weakened a state," Elrohir replied, as he rinsed his hands in fresh water and dried them on a clean cloth. Then he settled himself down at Legolas' side to keep watch over the Elf for the rest of the night.

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Legolas took a very long time recovering. The poison had been potent, and despite Elrohir's best efforts had taken its toll of the Elf's physical well being. He was a weak as a newborn, needing assistance to perform even the most mundane of tasks, such as dressing himself and walking. More often than not, it was his father's butler who aided him. Galion was a dear friend, known to Legolas since his earliest memory and caring and gentle in his ministrations. However, that the King's butler had been banished to care for the King's son instead of tending Thranduil himself told Legolas that Galion was still not in his father's good graces after having been the catalyst that allowed the Hobbit and the Dwarves to escape Thranduil's dungeons in the first place.

For quite a while the Mirkwood healers despaired that Legolas would ever regain strength enough to travel again. But Legolas' heart would not let him languish in the comfort of his father's Cavern. The one thought...the only thought...that kept him fighting the pain and slowly, but inexorably, inching toward recovering his health and vigor was that his husband waited for him beyond the Misty Mountains.

No word had come from Imladris, and no word was sent from Mirkwood regarding the Prince's condition. Elrond had no need of messages...he could feel Legolas' pain across the vast distance as if it were he, himself who had been wounded. It drove the Elf Lord into a depression that frightened his sons.

"Ada...we will return to Mirkwood and fetch Legolas back," Elladan said, as his father sat quietly at a table in his chambers, staring out the window toward the mountains.

"Nay...when he is healthy, he will return to me. I will not force him to travel until he deems himself ready," Elrond said, forcing the words from his lips. Had he allowed his heart free rein, he would have sent every warrior in Imladris to Mirkwood to bring his husband back to him. But he knew the journey would be perilous, and grew more so each day as the evil from Mordor spread, joining with the foul forces of Isenguard. As difficult as it was to live through each day without his husband in his arms, Elrond knew that it would be more dangerous to allow Legolas to travel before he had fully recovered. As a result, the Elf Lord grew morose, seldom speaking unless necessary, and never eating unless forced. Compounding his depression was the fact that word had reached his ears that Aragorn and Arwen had betrothed themselves while in Lothlorien.

Years passed, nearly seventy-seven, a mere moment in the life of an Elf, but nearly an interminable amount of time for Legolas to be parted from his husband. Still, finally, his strength was once again at its peak, his skills polished and honed to what they were before falling at the Battle of the Five Armies, and Legolas declared himself fit to return to his husband.

As Legolas stood before his father telling him that he felt he had finally fully recovered from his injury and should return home, Thranduil silenced him with an upheld palm. "Legolas, I know you are fit, and my heart is overjoyed to have it so. You worried us, my son...for so long I was unsure that you would survive that wound to ever be well enough to travel. But now I must call upon you to serve once again. I am in need of an emissary, one who must travel and make decisions in my stead. You are the only one I trust to act in the best interests of Mirkwood."

Legolas looked startled at his father's request. "Adar...please...it has been too long since I have been at my husband's side! My heart weeps each day we are apart...I cannot bear to lengthen an already intolerable separation! Please, Adar...."

"Nay, Legolas. In this I am afraid I must insist. You are Elrond's husband, but you are also my son, and heir to my throne. You must obey. You must be my emissary."

Then Thranduil smiled.

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Passing through the Gates, Legolas had barely brought his horse to a standstill before gracefully dismounting and looked around him with wide blue eyes. He was here as an emissary for his father, Thranduil of Mirkwood, and he eagerly sought the one who had sent the summons.

There, on the wide, white stone steps stood a lone figure dressed in dark crimson robes, his waist-length raven-black hair blowing in the breeze. Legolas made haste to the steps, then stood silently for a moment, gazing up into a pair of dark gray eyes.

"I am Legolas," he said, pushing back his hood and exposing his sheaf of thick golden hair. "Come as emissary for my father, King Thranduil of Mirkwood," he continued, before leaping up the stairs two at a time and throwing himself into Elrond's arms. "I have come home."


TBC...

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A/N: When DarkDreamer gave me this bunny, the scene that immediately appeared in my head was that moment in Fellowship of the Rings movie when Legolas dismounts his horse and gazes around Imladris with those big blue eyes of his. That's what spurred the tale, and how I felt it should end...with Legolas' return and the beginning of the Fellowship. I have added an epilogue after this chapter by request. I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story...you are all wonderful, and kept the story going perhaps longer than it should have. Thank you! :D Kath