Feud

Disclaimer: See initial Chapter.

Thanks: to Sarah, my beta, and all who read, especially reviewers!

Chapter 27: Caro Nad Tîr [Do the Right Thing]

Elrond paced, relentlessly retracing a short track in the blighted
earth before the sick house doorway. Erestor stood just to the left
of the resultant path, regarding him with restive caution. He had
decided to let Elrond know of his plans and the Lord of Imladris was
not pleased with this spur of the moment resolve to inform Legolas of
their real beliefs regarding the Wraiths' interest in Mirkwood.

The Elf Lord stopped abruptly in front of his old friend. He still
could not believe the elf had arranged this little meeting with the
intent to divulge such sensitive information!

"You are doing this for the purpose of garnering the Wood Elf's good
graces? Erestor, this is foolish! We cannot risk having our
conjectures find their way back to the Thranduil's ears! What madness
is upon you? Whatever our wrongs here, the fate of all our lands and
peoples is jeopardized and this is paramount compared to your
contrition!" the Noldo was red-faced in his fury and thudded his
finger against his advisor's chest rather sharply.

"It has nothing to do with salvaging my character; we have both gone
quite beyond the limits of forgiveness! It is the right thing to do;
that is all and that should be enough. This is his home; he deserves
to know! Should we not have trusted him from the start, as Aiwendil
has said? Your own instincts were to reveal all to him the night you
had such brutal coition; or so I was told in justification of being
defamed as a loose-tongued quisling!" the seneschal countered and
stood fast to his principles.

The Lord of Imladris raised his brows in surprise at Erestor?s
apparent retention of ill-feeling over that conversation between them
and resumed his circuitous march without comment. He glanced up at
the cloud shrouded white sky, dully lit by the obfuscated sun, to
gauge how long before the noon meal was announced. As though in
answer, a robust clanging called the midday halt to work and all the
humans left their labors and retreated to their respective huts and
cabins. Elrond scowled at Erestor and stalked back inside the sick
house briefly to issue final orders for the child's care to the aunt
keeping vigil over the unconscious babe. Only recently had he allowed
the doting woman to take part in the tending, and with a last cursory
check of the pitiful creature's bandaged body, the Elf Lord returned
to his friend and together they made their way to Aiwendil's cottage.

He could see Legolas already there, waiting, but there was no sign of
the wizard. Elrond shook his head partly in admiration and partly in
discontent; the wild elf looked a shambles. He kept himself clean, of
course, but the hair was a mass of thick, densely felted strands and
the breeches had seen too many years. The heavy locks were caught
back from his face, tied with a leather string, and there was evidence
of recent mending on the garment where a brighter, less worn patch of
hide had been sewn on.

{The humans girls? work, undoubtedly. I must remember to give Legolas
the clothing I brought,} he thought.

Never had Elrond seen an elf this disheveled retain so compelling a
manner and bearing. There was never any doubt, no matter the rough
edges exposed to view, that here was an elf of presence. A
discernable sense of authority enveloped him and added to the allure
of his physical form, battered though it was. Even the marring was
less noticeable than the lean and wiry compactness of his musculature
wrought by the constant physical extremes to which he was subjected.
The hardships gifted the Wood Elf neither weakness nor coldness;
rather the severe predicament had brought to the fore an intensity of
inner strength that was rare to behold, particularly in one who had
not witnessed the atrocities of First and Second Ages.

{Without his quiver and bow and removed from his primal environment,}
the Elf Lord observed, {the austerity of his long deprivation is more
evident, the old scars more visible, and the new one still stands out
across his clavicle. An elf this young in relatively peaceful times
should not have such marks upon him nor present the haunted look
common to the surviving battle-weary warriors of the Last Alliance;
indeed, ver very look I have seen in my own eyes many a time!}

"Erestor! I did not expect you to be here, how is Cemendur? Who is
watching over him? What if you are needed there?" Legolas'ds
ds
spilled out as he stepped forward to meet the Noldo Lord, who lifted
his hands to halt the interrogation.

"Do not worry! The child is in the care of his aunt; she is skilled
in what must be done and will send for me if she cannot manage,"
Elrond paused and reached out spontaneously to clasp the younger elf's
shoulder. "How do you fare, Legolas?"

"I am well enough," the feral elf's bewildered look was edged in
skepticism. After his last encounter with this Noldo Legolas was less
inclined to believe him capable of any genuine feeling for his health
and welfare. Still, there was that penetrating sensation of care
within the grasp upon his arm, as real as the ground below his feet.

Elrond felt the muscles tense as the archer's body stiffened under his
grip, and sadly dropped his arm to his side. The silence following
their brief exchange was unpleasantly rich in unspoken regrets and
withheld trust. All three turned with something akin to relief as
Aiwendil approached from the general direction of the Elder's home.

"Well," the Istari surveyed them, "we are all here it seems.
Berenaur," he spoke the name with careful emphasis, "this was your
idea so perhaps you should begin this discussion."

All eyes fell upon the seneschal as he wormed a mite under the
combined inspection. He had rather hoped Elrond would take over and
do the explaining. Now that he had everyone's full attention, Erestor
found himself reluctant to speak.

"I wished to ask for your assistance more directly, Legolas, by
telling you what we believe to be the danger in Mirkwood," he began,
and no one made a sound. "We have tried to understand the reason for
the continued presence of the Wraiths in Dol Guldur. As you know, we
drove away the Darkness that had harbored there before and.. ."

"Thranduil's warriors drove the Necromancer out!" Legolas cut in
harshly. "Imladris had nothing to do with it!"

"That is not entirely true. There was help from Lothlorien, and many
of those that fought were from Imladris," the Elf Lord interjected.

"Be that as it may, the Greenwood bore the brunt of the assault and
received the greatest numbers of casualties! The sum lot of external
forces was minute in comparison!" the Woodland denizen defended his
peoples' contribution and sacrifice.

"Yes, yes; I did not mean to insinuate any failing or diminution of
the efforts made by the Woodland Realm!" Erestor hastened to regain
control to prevent these two from escalating the disagreement and
venting their more deeply held antagonisms. "The point is that the
Wraiths have returned and continue to attack Thranduil's lands! Has
anyone in the Kingdom ever addressed with you the possible reasons for
this?" he asked the fallen prince.

"I have discussed it with Mithrandir. As I told him then I still
believe, that the Wraiths carry out their Lord's desire to destroy
elf-kind, and focus upon the Wood Elves because there is no Elven Ring
to offer a magical resistance," Legolas replied. "The Ulairi
mistakenly believe we present an easier target, yet they persist to no
avail."

At this statement the Elf Lord laughed. "No, not to no avail! Look
how far back Thranduil has withdrawn his borders! He has been run to
ground and is desperate!"

A crimson flush bloomed across the archer's countenance as he
registered this insulting judgment.

"You are unwise to speak so, for you stand within the very Realm you
denigrate! At a word, these humans would hand you over to Thranduil?s
patrols and you would be telling this tale to him instead of me! Too
easily do you forget to whom your life belongs within these lands!?

"We are subject to no one here! The Woodland King has abandoned the
southern forest; thus, it is a free land for anyone strong enough to
take and hold it!"

"No one has that right! The Laiquendi have been here since before the
First Age!" Aiwendil countered before Legolas could retort. This was
just the sort of petty squabbling the wizard despised.

"What good is that? The Masters of Dol Guldur do not recognize that
claim and Thranduil is incapable of defending it!" Elrond retorted.

"Then perhaps the other Realms should offer aide rather than
threatening to invade!" Radagast's calm words held a disquieting
anger, which pleased Legolas.

"Thranduil is too proud to accept aid! He would rather sacrifice
thousands of lives than admit he is insufficient to thsk ask at hand!"
The Lord of Imladris ground out these words in tones reminiscent of
chewing stones, all his old hurts and grudges coming to the surface.

"That is not true; he has struggled ceaselessly against the Shadow!"
in spite of his personal misgivings, Legolas felt compelled to back
the Woodland King as a matter of personal honor. "Aid he might
refuse, but an alliance he would entertain, and has done before!"

"Oh, you cannot be serious!" Elrond's mocking snort was brutally cold.
"He did not honor the terms of the Last Alliance; he obeyed his
father instead! Nor is that the only instance! Why did he not share
his knowledge of the Orc host that had taken the Redhorn Pass? How
many died in ambush there before Imladris drove the beasts out? How
many were lost at Erebor? What was he there for? He sacrificed you,
Legolas, for a share of a dragon's horde!"

These charges were dreadful to hear and Legolas actually stepped back
on unsure footing as the allegations assailed him, for he knew not
what to answer. In the scandalized aphonia that followed the Elf
Lord's outburst, he tried to collect his thoughts and formulate some
response.

The difficulty lay in that he did not entirely disagree with his
combatant's assessment of Thranduil's avaricious rule. Yet much of
this was beyond his sphere of understanding, never having cared to
engage in the affairs of state, and he felt ill equipped to explain
the Woodland King's actions. The reference to his own disgrace was
most troubling and caused an uneasy sinking in the pit of his gut, as
if the weight of this denouncement bore the gravity of truth. At last
he met the Noldo's eyes squarely.

"Of these matters, I know little," he began, "In the Last Alliance
there was fault on both sides and Oropher did indeed refuse the High
King's commands, but not for unjust reasons. Yet even if they were
so, how can Thranduil be faulted for obeying his King and Father?

"At the time of the troubles in the Misty Mountains, I was stationed
to the northern regions of the Greenwood and do not know if Thranduil
was cognizant of the infestation of the divide. I have no knowledge
of the Wood Elves using the High Pass except for messengers, and do
not recall hearing of losses from among these. I only learned of the
Orc hordes there after the news of the assault on Celebrian made its
way to the north, months later. To this charge against the King I
cannot answer, but I say to you that I will seek out the truth of it.

"As for Erebor, I have not considered my own circumstances in exactly
this manner before, and am forbidden to discuss the situation even
among my own people. Yet this will I say. However much you may
ridicule the cause for being there, the reason for fighting was just.
The free peoples of all Realms have benefited by the sacrifices made
on that day! Not since the First Age has the destruction of so many
foul and fiendish works of Melkor been achieved!" Legolas completed
his statement and waited for the Noldo to reply, but the Elf Lord only
stared at the wild elf, speechless.

For these were well spoken words and the elf that uttered them stood
before him nobly and accepted the responsibility for the grievances
voiced. Instead of justifications and rationalizations, the Wood Elf
had responded honorably and with appropriate respect for his people.
Somehow, this ragged and outcast member of Thranduil's Realm had
managed to convey a sense of dignity and decorum the best-trained
diplomat in the court at Imladris would envy. Commensurate with this
exemplary statesmanship was his desire to hold his people to high
standards of integrity and learn what culpability their regent owned.
It was not what Elrond had expected, and all his anger drained away
as he continued to meet the steady gaze of the fallen prince.

"Well-said, Legolas," Aiwendil broke the silent regard between them,
reaching out to physically turn the Wood Elf to face him. "Yet, these
are not the concerns that confront us now. I believe the elves of
Imladris suspect a more sinister reason for the Dark Lord's interest
in Thranduil's Kingdom."

"That is so," Erestor rejoined the conversation before his Lord could
reply. "We have come to suspect that the Ring of Sauron is hidden in
Thranduil's vaults."

Legolas' jaw dropped. "What?" he could barely speak the word. "What
are you saying? Aiwendil, what does he mean?" the archer turned to
his friend in confusion, and then spun back to challenge Elrond. "Are
you accusing Thranduil of, of, just what are you implying here?" he
was shocked at the very idea that such a horrendous doom could be
harbored within his own country, and feared what this portended.

"Peace, Legolas! No one is incriminating anyone!" the seneschal
began.

"We think thae Rie Ring is there, but that Thranduil is unaware of
it," Elrond said calmly and observed the mixture of relief and terror
that swept through the wild elf's eyes. "The King has accumulated
much wealth over the centuries, and all the lore we have concerning
the One Ring indicates it was lost somewhere close at hand, near the
River Gladden. It may easily have passed into his treasure horde
unremarked, for it is simple in appearance and unadorned."

Legolas felt as if caught in some whirlwind with no sense of what
direction he was being taken. This idea was too raw to assimilate
fully; he kept repeating the seneschal's phrase over and over through
his thoughts:

{Sauron's Ring is hidden in Thranduil's vaults!}

As his reason began to slowly recover from the numbing dread this
concept encapsulated, Legolas began to see the reasoning behind the
thesis. Thranduil did indeed have artifacts of numerous cultures from
all over Middle Earth.

The Elf King was quite proud of his possessions and had an incredible
propensity for unearthing the stories behind each antiquity.
Thranduil could recite the historof vof various battle swords,
daggers, long bows and scimitars, explaining who had forged them and
who had owned them, what wars they had been used in, how they had been
passed from hand to hand and at last ended up in the vast caverns that
housed his priceless collections.

As an elfling, Legolas had always been overjoyed when noble guests or
foreign emissaries came to visit, for then he would listen as
Thranduil regaled his visitors with exciting recounts of the deeds
surrounding his treasures, spinning out the stories in elegant webs
that ensnared the imagination and bound all attention to them until
their completion. These were the only good memories the disgraced
prince had of time spent with his Sire.

Countless were the jeweled ornaments of all diverse manufacture and
purpose from distant Kingdoms, long since fallen ere the Second Age
had ended, from Beleriand, Numenor, and even from Aman. Thranduil
could trace each one through time and reveal the tale in exacting
detail and vivid imagery. He had also riches from far lands to the
south in Harad and to the northeast beyond the Sea of Rhun. Rings,
amulets, coronas, circlets, chaplets and pendants were stored in
excess, all bejeweled and wrought in the finest of precious metals
from gold and silver to mithril.

And some of the items were minimal in design and spare of decoration,
even as the Noldo Lord had described; Legolas had seen many such
simple yet sumptuous things: chains, bracelets, and rings formed from
mithril, silver, gold, and even cut from individual crystals of
precious gemstones.

It was possible that the Ring of Sauron might have found its way into
the huge keep, there to lie concealed for centuries within the
vastness of the vault. If the ominous talisman was among the horde,
then this did indeed explain the persistence of the Wraith's
occupation of Dol Guldur and their unending harassment of the Wood
Elves. Even if the Ring was not in Thranduil's stronghold, the Dark
Lord might suspect it to be even as did the Noldor. In order to
verify his assertion, he would have to be drive out or destroy the
Wood Elves. Once emptied, the stronghold could be readily plundered
for whatever evil relicts might reside within it.

Legolas shuddered to imagine his people exiled, Tawar laid waste, and
the creeping blackness of the Nazgûl rummaging through the emptied
passageways and chambers of the great fortress in the mountainside.

Elrond saw the ripple of horror and dread rifle through the feral
elf's body and was moved. He reached out and ran his hand down
Legolas' back in that long slow caress that the elf had responded to
before. The archer did not pull back; instead he leaned into the
touch as the Noldo repeated the gesture, leaving his palm at the base
of Legolas? spine.

The Istari's brows crinkled inward as he watched this but he made no
move to separate the two. He sensed no distress from his friend due
to the contact; instead, the Wood Elf's fears seemed to subside as
Elrond maintained the gentle lambency. Radagast glanced over to
Erestor who was also watching with wary disapprobation.

The seneschal felt the wizard's eyes and met them, transmitting his
belief that the inevitable joining of these two would lead to no good.
He turned away, wrapping his arms about him as though caught in a
sudden draft.

The two lovers did not remark these reactions, too engrossed in their
own tactile communication to perceive their companions' body language.
Elrond was thrilled to feel his young lover return some measure of
the former trust he had previously granted, and Legolas was wrapped up
in deciphering the message conveyed through those emotive fingers.

As before, his senses discerned the true compassion he had seen the
healer display in caring for the injured humans, and he welcomed it.

A barely audible exhalation signaled the archer's dismay in
incorporating the Noldor's disturbing concerns within his mind, this
unwelcome complication of his convoluted existence, and he sent a
small and rueful smile to the healer before turning his attention to
the Istari.

"I assume that Mithrandir is aware of this theory as well?" he asked
and Aiwendil nodded assent. "Right," the wild elf said crisply, not
too pleased to have been left in the dark over such a serious matter.
He had thought Gandalf trusted him and now felt somewhat befooled.
"Then you are all wrong."

"Legolas! How can you dismiss this out of hand? There is good
evidence to suggest we are correct!" this from the Elf Lord as he
removed his hand from its comforting emplacement.

"I do not dismiss it! It is an understandable assumption; the
Wraith's continued attacks are well explained if the Ring is lost
within Thranduil's treasures. I am simply saying it is an erroneous
conclusion to make. Surely you can understand, this is not even the
importunate point!" he responded and all three of his companions
looked at him in embrangled consternation. The fallen archer's sigh
was louder this time. "Do you not see; it does not matter that the
Ring is not there! As long as the Dark Lord suspects that it may be,
my people are in grave peril!"

"Yes, I understand this," the seneschal spoke up, "but how can you say
for certain that this talisman is not in Thranduil's possession?"

"You would only ask this because you know so little of the Woodland
King!" Legolas sneered, not so much at the Noldo's ignorance, but at
his own memories of the King's covetous nature. "He knows what is in
his vaults and keeps, to the least Numenorean coin and the smallest
sapphire gem! He can tell you every detail of the making and the uses
for each item housed there! He comprehends more about those inanimate
baubles than he does about any living being in his Realm!" The
bitterness of these words and the harshness of the tones in which they
were spoken startled them all, and the healer again reached out and
soothed his hand against the wild elf?s spine.

"If the Ring of Sauron was in his possession, Thranduil would have
been aware of it long ago," Legolas concluded.

{And he would have used it,} he added to himself alone.

But his sorrow and shame were conveyed to his lover's understanding
where their skin met, and the Elf Lord reacted, pulling the younger
elf closer to him.

"Then, what can be done? The Woodland Realm cannot resist these
incursions indefinitely!" Aiwendil queried, as much to remove
attention from Legolas as to invite discussion, for he immediately
comprehended the archer's unspoken proof for the inaccuracy of the
Noldor's conjectures.

"I do not know. We have believed the Ring to be here because the
Ulairi are here, and because the Dark Lord abode in Dol Guldur so
long, personally overseeing the invasion of Mirkwood," spoke the
seneschal.

The next instant he, the Wood Elf, and the wizard received the
surprise of their lives in the reply from the Lord of Imladris.

"Thranduil must be told."

Before any rejoinders could be made the three elves suddenly became
alert turning simultaneously towards the path, and the healer
disengaged himself from his lover's side. Elrond was already running
back towards the sick house before Sarah even came into sight, crying
out for him to hurry for the child had awakened and taken a turn for
the worse.

Legolas at once set off after them, but as on the first day Aiwendil
and Erestor stopped him, knowing Elrond would not approve for he would
only become more upset and prove a distraction to the healer's
concentration. The archer did not force the issue but stood
stock-still staring in the direction his lover had gone.

"Tirno," the wizard said to get his attention. "Return to the glade;
I will follow after I have seen to some matters with the Elder.
Berenaur, accompany him to see that he goes. And try to get him to
eat something!" the Istari did not wait for any rebuttals or refusals,
leaving them before the little hut as he walked back he vhe village
center.

"I have no wish to leave until I know if Cemendur is alright!" Legolas
protested to the Noldo, who merely shrugged.

"Best not to argue overly much with wizards! My Lord will let us know
the fate of the child, and remaining here will not change it one way
or another. Lead the way, Legolas, for I could never find that glen
again," he said.

Legolas moved forward, but not toward the perimeter of the town. He
headed down the path to the sick house and Erestor quickly caught up
with him and gently took hold of his arm to halt him. The archer
stopped, and stood with arms crossed defiantly as the Noldo shook his
head.

"Nay!" Erestor said quietly. "Aiwendil knows you well; would he ask
this if he did not think it best? Obey, pen-rhovan; it is for your
own good and that of Cemendur!"

The wild elf stared at the seneschal irritably a few moments, but
reluctantly nodded acquiescence.

The Noldo visibly relaxed and smiled. "Come along; the wizard
enjoined me to provide you with food, for we have talked past the
noonday break. Let us retrieve my pack and then we may be off," and
so saying he tugged Legolas down the walkway.

The preparations took little time and straightaway the two elves left
the village, carrying not only the pack but Legolas' quiver and bow
also.

The hike was arduous, as it had been when first they walked it, yet
for Legolas at least there was no added strife from the death dirges
of the ancient trees, for all the fallen had at last drained their
departing energy into the earth from which it was initially drawn.
Still, he did not wish to converse, for the memory of the terror and
sorrow in the trees' final isolation was a burden he would carry all
his days; one that few save Fearfaron and Aiwendil would understand.

The hazy half-light of tinnu filled the glade with its subtle glow as
the elves entered and a soft rumbling preamble foretold the arrival of
the storm that had weighted the skies all day while it advanced upon
the forest. The moisture in the air was eagerly circulating around
the lower atmosphere and the clouds seemed to be bulging as the
droplets grew to fullness like ripening apples on an over-laden
branch. Every tree and shrub surrounding the glen seemed to host an
entire flock of one sort of bird or another, all apparently awaiting
the rain, and the rushes and lily pads on the banks and in the eddies
of the brook were ringing with the cheery vocalizations of anxious
amphibians. Exposed beneath the broiling heat of the season's sun,
the sanctuary and its inhabitants welcomed the promise of the summer
shower.

Legolas inhaled a delighted lung's worth of the cooler, watery air,
threw back his head, and stretched up onto his toes with his arms
reaching out to the heavens, feeling the effects of the protected
glade at once and rejoicing to again be in its embrace. Almost
instantly he allowed the cares and worries, the guilt and sorrow to be
flushed from his body by the soft invasion of the gentle magic of the
sanctuary. He smiled as he dropped back into a normal stance and
looked over at the Noldo and then laughed merrily, for the seneschal
had a woebegone expression plasteoverover his features as he surveyed
the lowering clouds.

"Do not worry! This will not be a long drenching, only a fast swallow
of liquid life; much needed by the forest dwellers here! You will not
become water-logged tonight, this I promise!" the Wood Elf said, but
Erestor had his doubts and his looks revealed them.

"I think our ideas of what represents a quick cloudburst are probably
vastly opposed!" he muttered, but it was hard to be very disgruntled
when Legolas was smiling at him that way, and he soon returned to more
pleasant thoughts. "Is there perhaps a nice canvas awning for the
flet, as you so generously provided for my colleague?" he inquired.
"And warm woolen blankets to chase away the damp and chill?" {And a
heated orifice in which to spend my passions?} He added inaudibly.

"Nay, none of those things are here, but they will not be missed.
There is adequate shelter for so small a storm there, within the
brambles," the Wood Elf indicated the thorny blackberry tangle on the
opposite side of the stream, and the seneschal's hopes sank.

"What, in those prickles? You cannot be serious, pen-rhovan!" he
exclaimed amid the feral elf's sparkling laughter.

"Yes, there! Here, it is not so bad; follow me," he said and waded
into the brook.

Erestor had no choice but to follow as another round of thunder rolled
through the air and a few fat droplets struck his head. Once on the
other side, he realized his lower body was now thoroughly wet anyway
and made an irritated tsking noise against the back of his teeth.
Legolas seemed to have vanished, and the Noldo looked about in
bewilderment. He wandered around the edges of the brambles searching
for something that remotely resembled an entrance without success.
The rain began to fall faster and his head was soon as well-soaked as
was his good temper. Soft laughter reached him from nearby, but where
he could not determine.

"Down here, Berenaur!" the archer's words drew his attention to the
stream's bank, where a cleverly concealed archway had been woven among
the thorny stalks from which Legolas' head was visible leaning out.
Erestor dropped to his knees immediately to crawl through but the wild
elf barred the way. "Pass me the pack first, for you will not fit
through with it over your shoulders," he said. Erestor complied and
at last he squeezed in through the narrow passageway to find himself
inside a very cozy sort of burrow inside the shrubs.

It was not very high; sufficient to be able to comfortably sit upright
if one was not too long in the torso, but the ceiling was tightly
woven from the dead stems of the berry bushes themselves. The feral
elf had removed all the previous season's growth and pruned and
trimmed back the living woody vines to provide a fair sized room of
sorts. The floor was covered in soft mosses, and was probably lovely
to rest upon, Erestor imagined. Over and around this, the living
thicket grew and the natural leaf cover provided an added layer of
insulation. The little den was quite dry, effectively invisible from
the outside, and in addition all the thorns had been carefully removed
from the in-facing sides of the stems to prevent any accidental snags
or scratches.

Legolas was seated cross-legged watching him with curious scrutiny to
see what his reaction would be, and so the seneschal smiled to show
his approval.

"You are right, this is a very tight little shelter and probably
better than a canvas cover, for no water can blow in from the sides!"
he praised the clever, hidden home and settled himself with his knees
drawn under him as he reached for the pack. The Noldo shifted a
little in discomfort, however, as his wet clothing started to make him
chill. "It would be better to have a way to get in dry, though!" he
said wistfully, and Legolas just shrugged.

"I do not have to worry about keeping wet things on when I am alone,
or if Aiwendil is here. Take yours off if you would be more
comfortable," he said nonchalantly, and the Noldo stared to see if
this was some sort of trick or ruse.

{Yes, there is definitely a malicious gleam in those eyes; he means to
repay me for that night on the flet!} The advisor's eyes widened as he
recalled how angry Legolas had been and his intentions with the
dagger. "Nay, that is alright; I am sure I will be warm enough," he
murmured in what he hoped were conciliatory tones

Legolas sniggered quietly as he reached for his quiver and fished
around a moment until he had found his dagger. With a great flourish
he drew it forth and set it on the floor next to him, smiling sweetly
all the while.

Then he looked down at his own saturated garment and frowned as he
cocked his head to one side, thoughtfully pondering his options. It
was with great difficulty that he maintained a straight face as he
suddenly wriggled out of the offending breeches and tossed them aside,
returning to his cross-legged position. The wild elf caressed the
blade of the knife as he did so and the seneschal gawked in shocked
amazement, his eyes traveling from the dagger to Legolas' completely
exposed nakedness and back, before finally meeting the sparkling blue
gaze.

"I really see no reason for me to be uncomfortable in my own home,"
the Wood Elf said calmly and smiled.

"Oh," was all Erestor could manage, his eyes wandering over the wild
elf's body before being drawn to the movement of the hand that
complacently patted the dirk's haft.

Legolas had no intentions of harming his guest, but he honestly felt
he was entitled to some satisfaction at the seneschal's expense. The
Noldo would spend this night watching Legolas' intently, observing his
every movement and shift in position, studying each nuance of his
changing expressions, relishing every glimpse of his lithe body, but
with an intensely unpleasant mixture of lubricity and trepidation.

"What did you bring to eat?" Legolas asked.
TBC