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 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 Two


The chambers Legolas was led to by the servants of Elrond were spacious and lushly appointed with heavily polished brass accents and rich silks and damasks. Small potted plants and saplings had been set on nearly every available surface and in every corner of the room, an attempt, Legolas was certain, to bring to bear the feeling of an indoor garden. It was obvious to the Wood Elf that great care had been taken to make Legolas feel at peace here in the great Elf Lord's House, and although the small comforts soothed little of the turmoil that raged within him, he was grateful for the Imladris Lord's thoughtfulness.

The shutters of the three great windows that graced one wall of the room had been thrown open, allowing the sweet-smelling air of the mountains to sweep into the room. Billowing white curtains danced under the breeze's touch, drawing Legolas to them. Looking out, he thought that the view was spectacular, for all of Imladris seemed to lay spread out before him. The fact that there were no windows in his father's Great Cavern made the tall, arched openings and the panorama that filled his vision a unique and pleasant oddity, and he allowed himself a moment to appreciate the beauty of the city.

Built in a sheltering valley of the foothills of the Misty Mountains, Elrond had chosen well the location for his refuge, for not only was the beauty of the place staggering, but Legolas could at once see the benefits of the rock that surrounded it on all sides. No army could approach Elrond's House without a great deal of difficulty and without being seen.

An enormous waterfall, fed by the run-off from the mist-covered peaks of the mountains, splashed and tumbled its way down into a clear pool on the far side of the city before flowing into a much more sedate stream. The water sounded joyful and playful to Legolas' ears, and he almost smiled at the freedom in its voice.

The homes of the Elves of Imladris were, to a one, fashioned from white stone and bleached hardwoods and gleamed in the setting rays of Anor. Arched bridges with carved balustrades linked the many gardens that interspersed the city, their flowering trees and plants adding bright splashes of color. Beautifully fashioned gazebos, their sides laced with climbing roses, offered places for repose within the gardens.

Behind Legolas the servants bustled about, laying fresh fruit on a small wooden table set near one of the windows, turning down his bedding on the large, feather-soft bed, and filling an oval, metal tub that sat behind a screen in a corner of the room with steaming hot water for his bath. A robe was lain out for him, along with several cakes of soap and drying cloths. An offer of attending him in his bath was politely rejected and, silently, their tasks completed, the servants left, leaving Legolas alone for the first time since his arrival in Imladris.

His thoughts turned to the Master of Imladris. Lord Elrond had been gracious to him and his escorts, had indeed been most kind and gentle in his welcome of Legolas. The Prince had not known what to expect upon his arrival, and the scenarios that had played out in his mind as he journeyed over the mountains from Mirkwood had not been pleasant ones.

He knew that Lord Elrond was an ancient, great Elf Lord, who had proved himself time and again in battle, and bore upon his finger one of the Great Rings, the Ring Vilya. He ruled wisely but sternly, so it was said, much as Legolas' own father did in his homeland. But Legolas knew nothing of the Lord of Imladris as a person. Was he as ruthless in all facets of his life as he was on the battlefield? Legolas had feared that the warrior Lord might expect his due immediately upon the Prince's arrival in the city, perhaps even taking him on the stone steps in full view of Legolas' Mirkwood escort. Such an indignity would have been intolerable for the Woodland Prince, and Legolas had fear disgracing himself in public had that been the case.

Now, of course, Legolas understood that Elrond had no intention of indulging in such a public display. The knowledge did ease the Prince's mind somewhat, but still tension gripped his shoulders and back when he thought of what was to come. The Elf Lord would take him. Would take his body, claim his soul. Legolas could only pray that he would remain strong enough to see it through stoically, and bring honor to his father's House. Legolas himself, although young, was a competent warrior and was no stranger to pain. It was not physical discomfort he feared, but the claiming of his soul that caused his trepidation.

Turning from the window, Legolas walked slowly toward the delicate screen that harbored his bath. He allowed his fingers to trail lightly over the painted silk panels that comprised the screen, before slipping behind it. The water steamed pleasantly with a light fragrance of roses, and he could see the gently floating petals that had been strewn across the water.

Slowly he disrobed, folding each article of his clothing neatly and placing them in a pile on the floor near the tub, along with his bow, quiver, knives, and boots. Slipping into the tub, he found it spacious enough that he could nearly recline, the water reaching to lap at his chin. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to allow the heat of the water to sooth away his tension. He lay in the tub until the hot water began to cool, then resignedly set about washing himself of what little dirt of the road still clung to his skin.

Unbraiding his hair, he washed it until it squeaked, then turned his attentions to the rest of his body. The soaps left by the servants were sweetly scented, and he lifted each to his nose before using them, rubbing them slowly across his skin. Finding that he enjoyed the light fragrances of the soaps combined with the delicate rose-scented water of the tub, he took his time, taking care in cleaning himself, in preparing himself for the Elf Lord. He would not shame himself by going to Elrond's bed with a single speck of road grime on his skin. Regardless of his own personal worry, he knew in his heart that he represented his father's House and his people, and would make as best an impression on the Master of Imladris as he possibly could.

The water was nearly cold by the time Legolas had deemed himself clean and rose from the chilled water to dry himself. He rubbed his water-sodden tresses with the soft drying cloths until his hair was nearly dry, then used a mithril brush considerately left nearby to work out the few tangles that crept in, brushing it until it gleamed and fell in a smooth curtain down his back.

The white robe that the servants had lain out for him was fashioned from a sheer, silky material that felt as soft and as light as clouds against Legolas' skin. Long sleeved and trimmed in delicate golden embroidery, it nearly reached to the floor, brushing against the tops of his feet and fastening about his narrow hips with a wide sash of satin. Gaping a bit at the neckline, it allowed a glimpse of his pale, smooth chest to the observer, although the material itself was so nearly translucent that Legolas felt it unnecessary to worry about that small patch of exposed skin, and did not attempt to readjust it.

Feeling himself as ready as he could be and knowing that he would be unable to rest, he sat himself down on the edge of the large bed, folded his hands, and waited to be summoned to the Elf Lord.

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

His sons stood before him, two pair of identical gray eyes boring into his own. It was obvious that they were not pleased, even if they had not voiced their concerns over and over again in the preceding months. Elrond had known that they would hardly be accepting of his choice, but had felt that eventually they would come to see the wisdom behind his actions. Unfortunately, they had not.

"Adar, please...you must reconsider this folly!" Elladan said, his voice tight and his anger barely under control.

"Aye, Adar. She had suffered so greatly and yet you seek to heap more pain upon her! We will not tolerate it!" Elrohir agreed, his eyes flashing with the intensity of his emotions.

"I seek to give pain to no one!" Elrond countered, slamming his fist down on the burnished wood of his desk. "Your mother rests in Aman, where all of her pain has been soothed away by the grace of the Valar. She is at peace! Furthermore, she would understand the necessity of this, and had she still been here with us would stand by my decision and welcome him into our House."

Elladan turned away, unwilling for his father to see the tears that gathered in his eyes. His twin instinctively laid a comforting hand on his arm, his own eyes brightening with unshed tears. "Adar, why?" Elrohir asked. "Why the Prince? If the joining of realms were the sole purpose of this plot, then why not an elleth from Thranduil's realm?"

"Thranduil has no daughters, and even if he had I would never have claimed one of them. I would not disgrace your mother by taking another wife, and you insult both of us by inferring that I should have done so! In this you are correct...she has suffered enough. By claiming the Prince, her place as my wife is secure. Is your unease with my decision to take another spouse, or simply in my choice of that spouse's gender?"

"I am sorry, Adar...I cannot accept him. I will not accept him," Elladan whispered, his voice cracking as his tears escaped him. "This House is thick with the memory of my mother, her spirit lingers in every corner. His presence here dishonors that memory. The thought that you would take him to the bed you shared with her..." his voice trailed off as he found himself overcome and unable to continue.

"Do you love him, Adar?" Elrohir asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you love him as you loved our mother?"

"No, my son...I do not. I have only just met him but even if I had not, there can be only one love in an Elf's life such as that, and your mother had claimed it from me upon our first meeting. I do not deny that I am attracted to the Prince, nor will I promise not to develop feelings for him. One cannot take a lover without such feelings growing between them. In time, love may bloom between us...or it may not. But know that your mother has, and always will have, first claim on my heart."

"That does not seem fair to him, Adar. You would deny him the opportunity to find his own great love, and to settle for what scraps of affection you are willing to throw him," Elladan said, looking over his shoulder at his father.

"War will be upon us, Elladan. A war unlike any other ever fought on this earth, and the time has come for sacrifices to be made, both of the body and of the heart. The time of the Elves will be over, but as the Firstborn we have been entrusted by the Valar with a sacred mission...to leave this land free from the evil of Sauron before the last Elf sails West. We fought Morgoth and by the grace of the Valar he was vanquished. With Sauron we can do no less. We cannot leave the Secondborn to languish under his whip. Thusly we are charged by Ilúvatar, himself." Elrond rose from behind his desk and walked around it to stand next to his sons. Opening his arms, they flung themselves into his embrace, clinging to him. "Linking the three great Elven kingdoms is necessary...our realms will be the backbone of a great army...an army comprised of all the free peoples of Middle Earth. Elves, Men, Dwarves...even Hobbits...all will serve. Lothlorien and Imladris were linked by the marriage of your mother and myself; Mirkwood and Imladris must be united as well, and will be, through the son of Thranduil."

"So be it, Adar," Elladan whispered, his voice muffled against his father's robes. "I cannot promise to accept him, but I will vow to be courteous. I will not shame you."

"Aye, Adar," Elrohir said, looking up at his father with serious gray eyes. "We will stand by your decision, although it is doubtful that our hearts will warm to him. Please understand how difficult this is for us, and know that it is our love for you and our mother that guides our hearts."

"I do understand, and that is all I can ask of you," Elrond replied, stroking his sons' ebony hair with gentle fingers. "It is all any father can ask of their sons."


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

Elrond bathed, attended by his butler, his thoughts on his sons and his daughter. Although Arwen had been less vocal in her disapproval of the presence of the Prince of Mirkwood in Imladris, Elrond knew she was no less displeased with his decision. In quiet tones she had asked him to turn the Prince over to her, to allow her to wed him and spare her mother the pain of having her husband take another to his bed. Elrond would not consider it...the Evenstar was the flower that bloomed in his soul. He would not sacrifice any possibility of her future happiness...he could not bear the thought of her being bound to someone she did not know, and quite possibly would never love. No, that sacrifice was to be his, and his alone.

He had explained everything to her, as he had his sons, and she seemed to resign herself to the fact that her father would soon have another spouse. Gentle and kindhearted, he knew that Arwen would never cause Legolas pain by shunning him.

Finishing his bath, Elrond allowed his butler to dress him a fine, soft, burgundy robe, choosing to eschew the underlay. The less complications he had this night, the better off he would be. Stepping into soft felt slippers, he sat on a bench and allowed his servant to arrange his silky, jet black hair into its usual arrangement of braids and warrior knots, and to place his mithril circlet upon his brow. Dismissing his servant, he sat quietly for a while, then spoke aloud in hushed tones.

"Celebrian, my love, how I miss you! I miss your warm arms about me and your gentle spirit comforting me. I know that you understand my decision...I can feel your approval of my choice within my soul. Still, know that my love for you never quails, and will never be overshadowed or diminished by this which I do tonight." He closed his eyes and pictured his wife as she was before the attack and how she would be again when he stepped from the Ship onto the white sands of Aman. Her voice came to him and he seemed to hear it with both his ears and his soul. "Love knows no bounds, Elrond. It cannot be contained in a bottle or selfishly hoarded. It must be shared. Lucky is the one who finds more than a single love in his life. Do not seek to keep love from him for fear that you will have less for me...love never runs dry. You will always have enough."

Smiling at last, Elrond rose and left his chambers.


TBC...


Seva: Thanks for reading! I don't think Elrond will be a bad boy...I'm seeing him as being more kindhearted, especially since he understands that this wasn't Legolas' choice.

SesshyA: Thank you! Although to me, the fundamentals of grammar aren't as important as the story itself, I'm trying hard to keep it as well-written as I can. I'm also glad that you're liking it so far!

Dark: It's all your fault, babe. *snickers* And, you're welcome!

Gabby: *snorts* Read those, did you? Hee, hee...who'd a thunk, huh? Hope you enjoy this one!

Githoniel: I'm so glad you're liking it enough to keep reading! I'll try to update as often as I can, although I don't forsee this becoming an epic.

Daphne: Thank you for the nice compliment! I'm so glad that you like it, and will update as often as I can, although, as I just told Githoniel, I don't forsee it going on for more than a few chapters...

Tiryaroofshadow: Are you psychic? I had this chapter written before I read your review! *snickers* Thanks so much for reading! Gee...can you foresee what will be in the next chapter? *coughelfsmutcough*