Feud

Title: Feud
Author: nárcolindë, robey61@yahoo.com
Pairing(s): Legolas/Elrond eventually
Rating: NC17 overall
Warning: AU, OOC
Disclaimer: The characters, events, and places recognizable from The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and/or The Silmarillion are the product of the mind of JRR Tolkien and are owned by his estate. This story is for enjoyment not profit.
SUMMARY: Spying on Dol Guldur, or 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend, except when he is also my enemy.'

OTHER CHARACTERS:
Herdir [Master]: Elf scout from Lorien, spying around Dol Guldur
Rusciphant [Wise Old Fox]: same as above, Rusci for short

Chapter 16: Tirn Tawaren [Watcher in the Great Wood]

An irritated cry tinged with the overtones of pain sounded through the dismally dark forest.

"Eru’s arse! This place is the most foul!" The disgruntled words followed the grunt and were in turn answered by a sniggering guffaw close at hand. The dark haired elf glared belligerently at his similarly crowned companion as he gingerly extracted a long, curved and gooey thorn from his thigh. "Oh, you find this amusing, mellon nîn [my friend]? If it becomes rancid I shall use you as my horse for the return home!"

"It does look as though that plant is venomous. If it is unpleasant, dangerous, or smelly one is sure to find it in Mirkwood! Does it burn greatly, Rusci?" The other was more serious now, inspecting the spike cautiously and poking at the puncture in his comrade’s leg.

"Ai! Stop, of course it burns! But it is just a plant, Herdir; I’m sure its toxins aren’t enough to finish me," the injured one replied but made no objections when his companion slit open the cloth around the wound and inspected it more carefully. Herdir frowned a bit and searched his pack for a powdered general-purpose disinfecting and pain-killing herb he always carried. Finding it, he turned back to Rusciphant and pressed down on the swelling muscle, forcing a thin stream of watery looking blood to discharge. The Rusci tensed a little from the stinging pain as Herdir washed out the wound with the contents of his water skin and then pressed some of the powder down into the cut.

"That should keep it fairly clean; although there’s no telling how bad the poison is or how much of it is still in you," he said. "I better keep the thorn, in case you worsen. There is probably an antidote already, back at home."

"Wonderful!" Rusciphant flung out his sarcastic comment and resumed his progress through the tangled undergrowth. "Herdir, I think it is pointless to continue on this track; the path has not been used by anything bipedal in long years."

"I agree. Indeed, this stopped being any kind of pathway some hours ago. If the Orc band came this way it would be evident. However, the reports definitely pinpointed this region of Mirkwood as their staging area for the raids on the villaeasteast of Lorien. We are less than a league from Dol Guldur." A faint rustling in the canopy above caught both elves’ attention and they instantly stilled, scanning the high, camouflaged branches. Rusciphant drew in his breath sharply. "There! Do you see?" he whispered, and Herdir nodded.

"Oh, my," he murmured breathlessly as his gaze concentrated on the drawn bow trained directly at them and the still form wielding it. They could just make out the Wood Elf among the leaves, dressed in very little more than ragged leather breeches that scarcely reached the knee, unshod and lacking even a tunic. Fierce were the piercing blue eyes that held theirs, adorning a youthful countenance with features noble and fair in spite of the unkempt poverty of his attire. A tumbled mass of golden hair drifted in the faint breeze, pulled back in twisted strands and bound with a leather cord to prevent entanglement in the bowstring. Both were dismayed for having missed the creature before he got the drop on them.

"Man caril sí?" Sin aldorl'n; boe bado!" [What are you doing here? These are not your lands; you must go!] A quiet voice spoke and the elves had the eerie realization that the entire forest around them had become silent at the sound. Rusciphant shifted, moving his weight off the injured leg and flashing a glance at Herdir.

"We are from Lorien, hunting a band of Orcs we got news of seven moons ago," he said in answer to the challenge.

"Within Tawar you are not free to hunt any beast, be it fey or fair," the archer responded and Rusciphant made a derisive snort.

"I had not heard that Orcs were now under the protection of the Wood Elves!" He replied in disgust, instantly regretting the remark as the sound of air parting before the flight of an arrow was followed by the sight of the missile buried half way up its length in the dirt by his boot. In fact, he noticed with a mixture of admiration and uneasiness, the arrowhead had sliced through the tip of the boot while leaving his toes untouched, and he was anchored to the spot. The interlopers' eyes met in silent communication: there would be no getting beyond this creature’s aim, especially if he stayed up in the trees. Herdir sighed in irritation.

"We apologize for both the trespass and the misspoken comment, archer. In the past, we have come into Mirkwood to route out such bands of Orcs that strayed too close to the Nimrodel or harassed the lands nearby. We have never been questioned by any of the Woodland King’s guard when we met them." Herdir hoped to ease the tension while still pointing out that they knew the elf had only the authority of his weapons and did not represent the Elven King’s wishes in any way. He was startled when bright laughter sparkled down upon them and the unusual elf relaxed and dropped his arm.

"I think it is obvious I answer not to the Woodland Realm's King!" he said mirthfully. "And you are closer to Dol Guldur than I have ever seen any Lorien elves approach before, even when advancing a full sortie! And so I ask again: what are you doing here, so far from your own lands?" The two elves stared wordlessly, first at their captor and then at each other.

"We might ask you the same thing, then!" Rusciphant countered for lack of a better idea and Herdir gazed at him in exasperation.

"And gladly would I answer you, though it must seem evident. I live here; Tawar is my home," he replied with amusement. He laughed again at their consternation, these elves were not used to being caught out unawares so. "Poor spies you make, for I have had you under my bow for three days! I did not know the Golden Wood was becoming lax in its standards for warriors!" He gazed down from his perch smiling slightly, balanced gracefully on a slender branch, one leg draw under him and the other casually swaying back and forth through the air. His bow he held in a seemingly careless grasp, an arrow between the fingers of the same hand, but in truth he was alert and even tense as he considered his unexpected guests.

"Three days! Oh that cannot be, you are being facetious now and boastful!" Rusciphant retorted his pride prickling. The offhand demeanor of the Archer's posture remained but his voice dropped to low and menacing tones.

"That is a poor choice of words, considering your position," he said quietly and again there was the unpleasant sensation of stillness throughout the vicinity, as though even the wind ceased moving and streams halted their flow at his voice's understated command. Herdir felt his skin tingling as though the air might erupt in lightening sparks and he watched in nervous anticipation when the archer suddenly rose and rearmed his bow. He did not turn it upon them however and instead seemed to be concentrating on a distant point beyond them.

"Up!" he ordered abruptly and climbed higher as he glanced down at them. "Quickly, there is little time. A large troop approaches, and the Wraiths are with them!" He waited no longer and was soon far ahead of them moving through the trees at an incredible rate. The two elves then heard the distant noise of many trampling feet, as the very ground seemed to protest against the passage of the vile creatures from Dol Guldur. Rusciphant snapped off the arrow’s tail, pulled his boot free, and they rapidly ascended into the canopy. They started to move off in the direction of their former captor but could no longer discern his path.

"Now what? Have you any idea where he was leading us?" queried Rusciphant and Herdir shook his head, then his eyes grew wide as he beheld within his mind a clear image of the trail to take and their destination. He waited not to question this but set off in haste for the Orcs were now nearly within sight.

"Come on!" he called and led the way. Soon the cacophony of the horde's progress faded and he saw the haven to which they were being directed. A great circle of trees rising higher than the others and with branches intertwined far above the forest floor came into view. There the foliage was dense and dark and they sought the safety of a well-hidden talan nearly at the very top of the tallest tree. Their former captor was not there, however, and as they settled in the sounds of the Orc troop grew nagaiagain so that they dared not venture out to seek him.

For a time the beasts seemed to be aimlessly milling about in an ever widening circle, and then a triumphant shout was called and they tore away en masse. Before the elves could even think of leaving the security of the flet, a strong sense of doom and dread crept over them as though a foul breath were sampling their scent and craving to devour their very souls. In spite of themselves they cringed low against the wooden platform and covered their heads, remaining still in frozen terror until the sensation abated gradually. Cautiously, Herdir raised his head and glanced about as his heart's tempo returned to normal. As he sat back to survey their location Rusciphant came to his side.

"In Eru's name, what was that?" he said and Herdir grimaced.

"Unless I am mistaken, that was a Wraith. It does not seem to have cared that we were here, however," he replied and stood, walking to the edge of the talan. The woods were still and he could not hear the sounds of the Orcs.

"Perhaps it did not know we were here," Rusci ventured, but Herdir gave him an incredulous look.

"That is highly unlikely. It seemed to have a specific goal and would not be deterred. Our presence here is not a threat to it, and this place, though known, seems protected somehow," he responded.

"Ah yes," Rusci began. "Exactly how did you know about this place? And if you had knowledge of these protected flets then why have you been forcing me to sleep on the hard ground or in the branches of trees the last five nights?" Herdir was quiet, for he had no answer to give. The knowledge was not his own, of that he was certain, and it definitely was not Rusci's. That left only the wild elf they had encountered, and the implications were troubling. He took a breath before speaking and glanced back at his friend, who waited in patient if not gracious expectation for an answer.

"I did not know of it before the instant we heard the Orcs, nor can I explain to you how I came by the information. It seemed to me a clear image in my mind, and it did not waver until my feet felt the wooden floor supporting us now. I suspect it is connected to our fey Tawarwaith," he replied reflectively.

"And where has he gone, I wonder," Rusci mused and Herdir shrugged. "It must be him, of course, though he is like nothing I could ever have imagined. No elf I have ever seen looked so primitive! Hard to reconcile that figure in the trees with the Royal House of Oropher. I hope we may get a closer look," his words mellowed into a distinctly seductive and hungry rumble and Herdir sent him a sharp glare.

"I told you before, hands off!" he snapped and Rusci shook his head in amusement.

"Alright! But you must admit he has quite an effect on the libido! I have to confess I am very jealous he is communicating with you in this clandestine and uncommon manner rather than me!" Herdir snorted his skepticism but said nothing as he considered the impression the Wood Elf had left in his mind, acknowledging that his interest was stirred in that regard as well.

"Yes, he is not what I expected either. I do hope he has found a similar safe spot to evade the Enemy!" Rusciphant nodded his agreement and rose also, going to the edge of the flet and gazing around in each direction.

They were high in the canopy and he could make out what appeared to be a sort of trailway through the branches leading away into the forest to his right. It seemed to himif eif elven feet had lightly crossed there many times and the trees had attempted to align their limbs to make the passage easier. What it was that made this obvious he could not say, only that his senses told him this was so. He looked at Herdir for confirmation of this impression and the other elf nodded briefly. Rusci felt the skin on his neck prickling uncomfortably and he shook himself to rid him of the eerie sensation. Perhaps this sort of communication was nothing to envy afterall.

"What now? Should we continue on or wait for him to seek us out again?" he asked.

"We are clearly being invited to proceed!" Herdir replied, extending his hand toward the tree top trail. Rusci frowned.

"I do not like this; suppose it is some trick and we end up in the Orc's camp or happen upon that Wraith?" he whined but Herdir merely smirked at his discomfort.

"He could have done us in any time over the last three days had he desired to kill us off," he reminded his friend. "I think he trusts us and takes it for granted we will return the sentiment. We are all elves, after all, and likely the only ones in this part of Mirkwood. At the very least he is curious and hasn't figured us out yet."

"Yes, perhaps he is lonely," Rusci could not keep a suggestively hopeful quality from coating his words and Herdir rolled his eyes in irritation. Without further discussion he moved out into the branches following the path revealed to their inner eyes and Rusci followed. They were soon deeper into the claustrophobic forest.

The day wore on toward night and no further sign had the elves of their unusual quarry, nor of any dangers. The woods grew steamy and as the sun dipped below the horizon a misting rain began that furred their clothes with a fine gleam of water droplets as the moisture beaded up on their sturdy garments. The limbs grew slick and their progress slowed as Rusci's leg began to grow sore from the continued exertion. He cursed as his foot skidded off the branch he was on and he had to struggle to maintain his balance. Herdir reached out and grabbed hold of his arm to steady him and pull him over onto the branch he stood upon. The rain had become a torrent now and the elves were quickly becoming soaked to the skin. A low rumble flowed through the air as thunder sounded its distant voice.

In his inner vision, Herdir realized they were near another talan and glanced at Rusci; he nodded to indicate he was aware of it too. They scampered through the trees cautiously and climbed gratefully onto the wooden structure. To their joy they discovered the talan bore a partial roof near the tree's trunk and they hunkered down under it as the gray sheets of rain blurred the landscape all around them, reducing everything to shimmering shades of gray shadow. They sat silently as the storm raged, digging into their packs for lembas to refresh their bodies.

As the night lengthened the rain abated, leaving behind an unbearably humid heat instead of the clean and refreshing breath of night the elves were accustomed to after an evening shower. Rusci removed his boots and weapons and stripped off his outer garments, laying the saturated clothing flat upon the platform. Herdir followed suit and soon the elves were slightly more comfortable. The shared insight into their surroundings departed abruptly and both elves started in surprise at the loss of this connection. They gazed at each other, concerned about what it could mean, and almost immediately found themselves unaccountably drowsy. Within minutes both had drifted into reverie.

A tumultuous pounding of feet and rau raucous calls of commands in the Black Tongue stunned the elves into awareness late into the night. In alarm they drew back against the tree's trunk, realizing a large troop of foul Orcs was swarming below them in the forest. No sensation of the demoralizing dread spawned by the Wraiths reached them and for this they were grateful, as a pitched battle seemed to be taking place nearby. They could clearly hear the zing of elven arrows and the cries of the fell beasts when they met their targets. Occasionally they seemed to hear a fair voice taunting the Orcs and the ensuing rage drowned out the merry laughter. Finally they heard a great crashing of wood as though the very trees were being felled in the battle; and wails and cries of agony and wrath joined the sound. Soon, the twang of a bow followed by grunts of pain as death claimed its victims was the only sound, and even these grew lesser and at last died away. The silence of the forest was more complete than they had yet heard, and they could do nothing more than await the morning to understand what had happened and where the elves they had heard had come from or where they now were gone.


Dawn was only a dim brightening of the air under the heavy eaves of the massive trees in the southern reaches of Mirkwood. Therdierdir and Rusciphant slept longer into the morning than was their wont. They quickly dressed and with unspoken agreement set out from the talan in the direction of the night's conflict, trusting to their skills in tracking to guide them as the peculiar inner connection to their environment had not returned. After less than half a league was traversed the terrain below them gave evidence of a large troupe of careless beasts having plunged through, slashing and uprooting the dense underbrush in their. T. The wind shifted and the unmistakable sourness of death and decay reached them. They continued and soon came upon the location of the night's combat.

Rusciphant carefully scanned the earth below them. The gruesome scene of destruction was unlike anything he'd witnessed before. The ground was deeply pitted and honeycombed with traps, and they were able to see that each of the open pits held one and occasionally two cold carcasses of orcs. Every one of them was impaled through the base of the skull or the neck with an arrow identical to the one the feral elf had used earlier. Numerous spikes set in the bottom and walls of the pits also pierced through the orcs’ bodies. Rusciphant sounded a low whistle of amazed deference and shared a glance with Herdir. It was obvious that the elven army they had assumed to be at work in the darkness was in fact one lone daredevil: their elusive Tawarwaith.

"Building such defenses must have taken a long time and keeping them cleared and set would be a huge undertaking in itself," he said in clearly impressed intonation. They finally cleared the scene of carnage, passing overhead the ten or so dead orcs that, having observed the fate of their comrades, had tried to escape. Each was cleanly felled with a single arrow. Rusciphant respected such economy, and thought the wild archer would probably return and remove all the arrows so as to recover and reuse the tips. They both also realized that the archer would have had to use some sort of a lure to cause the beasts to come right to this spot, and recalling the taunting words and laughter of the night, surmised that he had used himself. This they found disturbing for they would never take on a large band alone, even with traps.

"I count 24; that is admirable," said Rusciphant and meant it. Herdir nodded one moment and shook his head the next.

"Perhaps it is so in our home, but here it is of little consequence. What are 24 against hundreds more? No one can put an end to them piecemeal like this, even given all eternity to finish the task!" his tone was dismayed and gave away the perplexed curiosity he felt. The two elves once more found each other’s eyes.

"Still, you must admit the courage to try so is commendable," Rusci countered and Herdir did not argue against this.

"I thank-you, yet would I agree with your companion if destruction of the Orcs was my Task," the light and musical voice that reached them sounded bone weary and faint. It seemed to originate from high in the canopy and further away from the disgusting remains below, yet the precise location they could not perceive.

"Where are you?" Herdir called, but no answer came back. Rusciphant and Herdir scanned carefully for any glimpse of their wild elf to no avail, and at last had to move forward in the general direction of the words as they searched, concerned for the lack of response. With abrupt clarity, an image of the elf sprawled out senseless on a nearby flet briefly illuminated Herdir's mind, and he gasped in the intensity of the feeling of absolute exhaustion radiating through the image. "There!" he called and made his way quickly towards another cluster of mighty trees and climbed higher. The flet was broad and sheltered over with a living roof of leafy branches, and there upon the floor the feral elf lay still. Herdir scrambled up as Rusciphant followed yet both stopped short just over the lip of the platform, struck by the sight before them.

The prone elf was stretched out his full length, one lanky leg fully extended and the other bent at the knee. He lay partially on his side and mostly on his stomach, one arm stretched above his head as his hand still loosely clutched his bow and the other lay draped across his waist. His golden locks splayed out upon the floor behind him and his quiver was still strapped securely about him. His position was such that his back was facing them, and even in the dim midmorning Mirkwood light and the partial cover of the quiver, the ugly crisscrossing of numerous scars was visible. Rusciphant caught his breath.

"Elbereth!" he whispered, but Herdir said nothing as he cautiously approached their unconscious host. He carefully felt for the buckles of the leather harness securing the quiver and released it, drawing the straps out from under him with slow care. With a tentative hand he touched the disfigured flesh and his healer's fingers instinctively counted and dated the overlapping marks, as his eyes grew sorrowful. He then pressed fingers around the limp wrist draped across the elf's midsection and looked up to send Rusciphant a relieved glance. Rusci let out the breath he had been unaware he was holding and moved forward. Herdir gently turned the elf over onto his back to check for injuries and as his head rotated over both were shocked to see the eyelids drawn down. Quickly he inspected for wounds and found none that were apparent.

"I believe he is suffering mainly from exhaustion and probably hunger," Herdir said quietly. Rusciphant pursed his lips bitterly.

"And no wonder, to be out here alone fighting bands of Orcs single-handed!" his words barked out in displeasure, although who he could direct his anger upon was uncertain. Herdir smiled at his friend's outrage; he hated the needless abuse of any fair thing, and this elf was both fair beyond measure and bold beyond compare. "He will recover then?" Rusciphant queried and Herdir nodded.

"It is best we allow him to sleep as much as he needs, as long as the danger remains distant. If he does not wake in a day's time then we will need to move him. The air will soon become unwholesome from the decomposing beasts down below. No doubt he not not plan to stay here; his body simply could not carry him further," he said contemplatively. His eyes had returned to studying the elf with a healer's appraisal and he noted with umbrage the number of ribs he could count without effort. His glance fell upon the faded scar upon his chest and he reached over to caress it, learning its history in the touch and recoiling as though burned. Rusciphant looked at him in alarm.

"What is it? Is there an injury there, internal and unseen?" he asked with concern and Herdir eyed him balefully.

"Aye, and a deep one at that," he said. "That wound was self-inflicted! Physically it has healed, but the soul still bleeds!" Both elves returned their scrutiny to the sleeping patient with distress. The elf before them was suffering from grief and this at least helped explained the depth of his exhaustion.

They watched him quietly for a while, but as he did not move save for the steady rise and fall of his chest in breathing they relaxed somewhat and removed their weapons and packs. Rusciphant scooted over against the tree's trunk and fished in his pack, drawing out an apple. He tossed this to his friend and found another for himself and quietly munched his luncheon as he continued his observation of the sleeping elf.

"He must be very strong to survive the torments his flesh records," he said. "These Wood Elves are completely barbaric to allow such abuses!" his words were laced with disgust and the archer twitched slightly as they were spoken. Both elves ceased chewing and watched, but no further movement occurred. Herdir swallowed and sent a cautioning glare to his friend.

"He may be sleeping, but he has incredibly acute senses. I suggest you guard your tongue!" he admonished. Rusciphant nodded and allowed his eyes once more to sweep across the prone half-naked form before him. He sighed.

"Absolutely magnificent, even blemished so!" he remarked, switching into Quenya. It was well known that Thranduil forbade the use of the High Tongue wn hin his realm, as had his father before him. Herdir allowed himself an appraising ogle as well and nodded.

"The golden hair, much richer than any other I have seen before, surpasses even the luster of the legendary Glorfindel," he agreed, responding in the High Tongue also. "But it is the eyes more so. When he looked upon me from those depths of blue they seemed to go on forever! Quite rare, that," he continued but Rusciphant dissented.

"Herdir, one cannot smell eyes or bury one's fingers in them! No, the hair is by far more tangible and thus more to my taste regardless the eye color," Herdir merely shrugged at his friend's opinion and took another bite from his fruit.

"Do you suppose all of his hair is that color?" Rusciphant pondered aloud and Herdir almost choked. At the same moment the feral elf opened his eyes, blinked once and sat up staring while Rusciphant slapped the back of Herdir as he coughed raggedly. As soon as his composure was reestablished Herdir tried a weak smile and extended his hand.

"Hello! I did not expect you to wake so soon; you seemed beyond tiredness! I am Herdir, a healer, and this is Rusciphant a warrior," he said calmly in Sindarin again. The wild elf gazed at the hand before him and eventually extended his own to grasp it in warrior's fashion just below the elbow. To Rusciphant he did the same and then all sat silently regarding one another. Rusciphant cleared his throat.

"Who are you?" he said and the elf looked at him sharply.

"This you know; I am Legolas that some call Hecilo and others Tirn Tawaren," he said curtly and glared first at one then the other. At last the elf's eyes fell to the half consumed apples the others held and his stomach squeezed forth a loud complaining rumble. It was the scent of the fresh food that roused him. He blushed in erassrassment and frowned as he rubbed his stomach and the other elves smiled in merriment.

"We have more, do you like apples?" Rusciphaskedsked, pulling one from his pack and holding it out. Legolas looked from Rusciphant warily to the fruit hungrily and finally his appetite overcame his reservations and he took it, smiling slightly.

"Thank-you, I am famished. The Orcs have cut off one of my routes back into the Woodland Realm and the other we are battling over constantly. Hunting is poor this close to Dol Guldur as the Orcs have already killed off or driven away every living thing," he stopped and took a ravenous bite of the apple and sighed contentedly as he crunched the tangy fruit. In minutes it was consumed and he tossed the core away over the side of the talan. Herdir quickly offered another and it was almost as quickly gobbled down. Rusciphant offered his water skin but the elf sipped only a little before handing it back. He sighed contentedly again and stretched back down on the floor, rolling over again in the half-side, half-stomach position, his back to the other elves. Without a further word he drifted back into slumber and the two elves just looked at one another in surprise.

"That was unexpected!" said Rusciphant. Herdir chuckled and resumed eating his own apple.

"Golden everywhere, without doubt!" he said softly, resuming the conversation in Quenya. Rusciphant nodded, grinning.

"Can you not make up some healer's excuse to get him out of those ridiculous leggings? You did not check him thoroughly for wounds and should do so at once!" he said with a giggle. Herdir snickered too.

"Aye, I will do that later, when you are not around!" he teased and Rusciphant pouted.

"Well, you must at least tell me all afterwards! Did you see how he blushed? I would wager he gets flushed all over when he is aroused," he rejoined. Herdir was nodding; his lusting eyes intent upon Legolas.
yes yes," he whispered. "Flushed all over, his cock all rosy and rigid!" he breathed and both elves shifted uncomfortably and groaned in unison, casting rueful glances at each other.

"That was an unfortunate topic of reflection to choose, Rusci!" Herdir scolded. Legolas stirred and they fell silent as he propped himself up on his elbow and gazed back at them over his shoulder with irritation.

"Apparently you have been poorly brought up," he said haughtily. "Hasn't anyone informed you it is impolite to talk about someone in another language, especially when they are right in front of you?" The two elves stared with stricken faces as the archer regarded them coldly. "Say what insults you have directly and to my face, Noldor!" Herdir and Rusciphant exchanged troubled looks and Herdir drew a deep breath.

"I apologize! You are right, of course! We were not actually speaking insults as such; but we are strangers and the peoples of our respective lands are not on friendly terms. We did not want to reveal our true purpose to you!" he said, telling as much of the truth as he dared, desperately hoping the elf before him did not understand the words they had spoken. Legolas held their eyes a few moments longer and then resumed his prone position with a displeased humph! Herdir and Rusciphant remained silent for a long time, uncertain anymore what the unusual elf before them could or could not hear, even when asleep.

Legolas lay very quiet and willed his heart to still and his respiration to remain normal. There was no way, of course, that these Noldor would know that while speaking the High Tongue was forbidden, understanding it was required, especially among those of noble blood. It afforded a certain advantage to the Woodland realm for the elves of Imladris and Lorien to assume that their communications in Quenya were unintelligible to Thranduil's folk.

He had stood it as long as he could, but the remarks were too personal. None should speak so about another, as though he was some, some mere trifle for them to explore and then discuss afterwards! How dare they talk about him so! They were the most odious elves he had encountered, with the possible exception of Ailinyéro, and the idea of them seeing him naked and aroused was positively repulsive!

Except that that was a lie. He was already aroused and wanted to just let them play with him awhile. In truth he had stopped their conversation to prevent the rising heat he felt from becoming obvious and giving away both his knowledge of their speech and his own desire for their attentions. Especially Herdir, with the gentle touch and kind eyes, broad shouldered and dark, his hands long-fingered and. .

Legolas stopped himself from continuing his mental reflection on Herdir's attributes lest he need to pull off his breeches himself and present his body for the healer's closer inspection.

Surely, it could not be so terribly wrong to want to feel something other than loneliness, could it? He had not been with another since before the Judgement, and that was now seventeen years past. Surely he could be forgiven one small indiscretion?

Even as he thought this, he knew he would not follow through and that they would not take the initiative after his admonishments earlier. And then they were Noldor, after all; their true purpose in the regios sts still obscure and they certainly did not intend to tell him. Everything about their words and actions bespoke deception, as when they claimed to be on a scouting mission from Lorien and not to know who he was. Every elven realm had been informed of his status to prevent him from escaping the Judgement; it was unlikely they would encounter another banished elf within the borders of the Woodland Realm. And they were clearly not Sylvan elves of Lorien, for they were dark and sleek and used assumed names in case they were discovered. Herdir just meant 'master' and Rusciphant was just 'wise old fox', hardly true names. Did they think him a fool also? He had determined days ago that they had to be spies from Imladris. No, he could not allow his baser drives to cast him so low as to become a plaything for these elves.

It was a very long and uncomfortable day for the three unlikely companions.

TBC