Ranger's Folly, Prince's Fate
Chapter 3
Chapter Three: A Misunderstanding
"Forgive my delay in greeting you properly, but we were not anticipating visitors from Imladris," Thranduil said, fists propped on his hips, legs planted firmly shoulder's-width apart, intense green eyes peering at the twin sons of Elrond with irrepressible interest and just a hint of aggravation, completely oblivious to the ink stain marring the left cuff of his fine brocade tunic and the quill adorning the hair above his ear where he'd hastily stuck it when Legolas arrived in his study.
Aragorn noticed. Valiantly he tried to prevent his eyes from wandering to the fine white goose feather intruding upon the circlet of slightly wilted and rather mangled golden coreopsis blooms resting in a position on the King's brow that was just enough off-centre to suggest it had been yanked off and slapped back on numerous times through the course of the day.
He did not want to be thought rude or give the appearance of disparaging the Elven King, who had greeted him politely and with the same degree of esteem with which he addressed the twins. Thranduil had even offered the traditional handshake readily and with a smile that was both pleasant and appraising, his clear emerald eyes at once open and searching. He made his decision regarding Aragorn quickly, like his brother, and thereafter referred to Aragorn as 'young Dúnadan' and did not bother to address him as Estel at all.
All of this did much to set the man at ease for he'd been somewhat nervous about meeting the legendary monarch. In truth, he found Lord Celeborn much more intimidating and removed. That surprised him, considering the rumours he'd been told of Thranduil and the fact of his personal loss related by Elboron.
"We are the ones who should make apologies and do so, sincerely," Elladan said graciously as he bowed low. "The information we have is too important to await the proper diplomatic channels to arrange for its delivery."
"Neither would we wish to entrust the news to a messenger, for too often in these troubled times our couriers meet with tragic ends and their dispatches are confiscated," added Elrohir, offering an identical bow.
"Then it is grave word you bring me," frowned Thranduil, "and I had best hear it forthwith. Follow me, for this place is too public." So saying he strode from the stark and imposing throne room in which he'd initially thought to grant the Imladrian nobles audience, his pace brisk and purposeful and fast enough to make his guests lengthen their own strides to accommodate his speed.
Aragorn found himself marching alongside Galion and was grateful for it. The underground palace, and he felt right in calling it that now, was a veritable warren of tunnels, passages, unexpected stairways, and winding corridors that skirted the rim of a deep abyss, perplexingly well-lit by a series of buttressed torches of immense size, into which he really preferred not to look. The Mountain Amid the Trees was seemingly hollow in its heart and the many rooms of the fortress essentially ringed this cavity. The man made certain Galion retained the outer position next to this dizzying expanse of light-filled space, which placed him safely against the solid mass of the mountain.
Thankfully, the King was not going too far and quickly led the way into a hall that ran back into the bulk of the rock. A few more twists and turns and he was opening the door to a well-appointed and comfortable study, complete with a crackling fire in the inviting hearth. Yet, no sooner had Thranduil taken a step within than he halted, motioning everyone back as a soft and gentle chuckle left his lips.
"Wait here but a moment, mellyn," he whispered, eyes bright with a smile that transformed his features. He eased off his shoes and crept into the room with extreme stealth, approaching the collection of chairs and sofas drawn before the hearth. There he bent and gathered something in his arms, murmuring low so that his words were not intelligible.
Peering over his brothers' shoulders to see, Aragorn realised the King was carrying someone, the elf clearly asleep though he'd stirred enough upon being lifted to wrap his arms round Thranduil's neck, face buried against the monarch's shoulder. The man caught a glimpse of graceful, long-fingered hands, slender bare feet, and a bright swath of golden hair spilling into the air where it swayed with the rhythm of his bearer's gait. Other than this Aragorn could not determine much but had the impression the elf was male and dressed in loose, informal garb.
He caught Elrohir's eye and found there a knowing leer complete with arched brow and wolfish grin. Aragorn let his incredulous gaze pose wordless challenge and Elladan responded, a faint nod affirming Elrohir's deduction: the King was not above availing himself of Greenwood's courtesans.
Thranduil, meantime, had carried the elf through a second door and was now returning, having quietly shut the heavy oaken portal behind him. He was still overwhelmed with amusement and obvious affection for the scene he'd come upon and motioned his guests inside, still smiling.
"That was Legolas," he announced, "whom you will all have the opportunity to meet later. You must excuse this mild impropriety; I really hadn't thought he would still be here and seeing him in repose, I hadn't the heart to make him wake and greet you now. He's only just completed a most rigourous assignment and hasn't fully recovered."
"Of course, but is he likely to be disturbed by our speech? I would not want to rob him of much needed rest," said Elladan, thinking 'rigourous assignment' was the most pretentious euphemism for sexual intercourse he'd ever heard.
"Nay, have no concerns for that. I've taken him to my bed-chamber and that is quite thoroughly insulated from sound by the ingenious use of an interior fountain. I'll have to show you how it works; it is rather like having a private waterfall in one's room. There is another one in the library on the lower level and the two are connected. At any rate, all he'll hear is the soothing music of cascading water," Thranduil explained with pride, obviously quite pleased to have visitors to impress with his uniquely crafted home.
Galion handed him his shoes, which made Thranduil snort in self-deprecating mirth, and then directed the guests to sit, moving deeper into the room to procure a decanter of dark red wine and enough glasses for all. When everyone was served he offered a sylvan toast: 'Tawar min Beria' and then took a seat himself. Obviously, he served the King in a similar capacity to that which Lord Erestor afforded Elrond and was a trusted and valued advisor. Elboron just as clearly had defined boundaries to his obligations and placed home and family first, when he was not on patrol, and had returned to his wife-mate once depositing the visitor's in his brother's presence. Thus, only King and Councillor turned expectant eyes upon the foreign nobles.
Elladan decided that was his cue. "We have journeyed north from Isengard across Rohan, skirting Emyn Muil to the Brown Lands. Thence we circled Greenwood and came up by the River Running into Erebor. Before crossing those wastes, and based on counsel from Curunir, we made a reconnaissance of the Enemy's holdings, scaling the heights of Emyn Muil to look down upon his blasted realm of smoke and ash."
"Of course, the distance is too great and Ered Lithui too tall to perceive what activity goes on there," Elrohir took up the tale. "Yet the wizard's warning was alarming enough that we decided to lay in wait there in the jagged crags and cliffs beyond Rauros. Alas, Curunir's intelligence is accurate: We spied a dark rider on a black horse galloping over the plains toward the forest."
"Nazgûl?" demanded Thranduil, his spine stiffening and his face clouding with anger.
"We believe so, your Majesty," Aragorn replied. "No mere man makes the skin crawl and the heart quail as mine did when this apparition sped by beneath our hiding place."
"It is going to Dol Guldur," growled Galion as he rose and stalked with barely restrained fury to the sideboard. He leaned on it in frustration and remained silent, struggling to master his emotions.
"Aye, there can be no other destination," sighed Thranduil. "Ten years grace, not even enough to route out the orcs still lurking in that accursed tower, and now we must suffer this vile evil in our lands once more."
The three brothers remained silent, having no means to refute these comments, and in due time Galion returned to the group and cast himself into his seat, eyes blazing and face flushed.
"There was only the single one?" he asked.
"Aye," said Elladan, "but the White wizard believes others will follow, bringing with them orcs and Uruks from Mordor."
"Uruks!" exclaimed Galion, and momentarily lost his train of thought, but Thranduil was wise and understood the gist of his reasoning.
"What of the White Council? We united once to depose the Necromancer and we may prevent this invasion of Nazgûl if we act quickly," he remarked.
"To this we cannot answer," admitted Elrohir in chagrin. "You are the first with whom we have shared this knowledge. Word must be sent to Lorien and Imladris and we plan to head to the Golden Wood on our way back home."
"We thought it best to give you at least this much warning," added Aragorn, "until the White Council can convene and draw up some plan to unseat the Wraiths."
"That may take months," groused Galion. "By then they'll be entrenched and we'll have to mount a siege. If we move now and strike a definitive blow, take back the tower and scatter the orcs, then the Enemy will reconsider his plan."
"I agree," said Elladan, "but we are not at liberty to commit the forces of Lorien, Isengard, Mithlond, or even of Imladris. That is a decision for the respective councils of those separate lands to make. Even convening the White Council will take time. I fear any aid may be nearly a year in coming."
"If not more," added Elrohir.
"If at all," murmured Thranduil.
"What of the folk in Erebor?" asked Aragorn. "Surely this is as much a threat to them and the people would wish to join forces with Greenwood."
"Hah! They do not see it that way," announced Galion, draining his cup and instantly refilling it. He was highly agitated and made no attempt to conceal his disgust. "They deem this an 'elvish' problem in that it concerns one variety of immortal in contest with another. The men of Dale and Lake-town are not inclined to come to Greenwood's aid, for all they depend upon us for trade and commerce."
"That is ill-conceived logic," droned Elrohir. "What of the woodsmen dwelling in the central regions of the forest?"
"Some are loyal to me," nodded Thranduil, "but most are eager to take sides with anyone who promises them the whole of Greenwood for their own. We believe there is a permanent population of humans living in the tower itself alongside the orcs."
"Ai Elbereth!" exclaimed Aragorn in shock. "That is madness."
"It is," agreed Galion sadly, "but the fools have long been servants of the darkness, even before migrating here. Some are from Rhûn, others from as far south as Harad. They do not honour the trees; they do not honour earth; they do not honour themselves. Alas, they worship Sauron and cannot see their folly."
A heavy, gloomy quiet filled the room and where once it had been cheery and cordial now the homey den was burdened with uneasiness and anger. Even the fire hissing in the grate took on a suspicious character and suddenly belched a cloud of pale grey smoke into the room. Galion rose to tend to it and Thranduil stood, too, wandering to his desk where the parchment Legolas had begun lay abandoned, only the heading and two columns set out, with no names inked upon it. He'd waited the entire afternoon, not wishing to begin the task alone, and the doting father smiled sadly as he glanced to the closed door. Whatever action he decreed, Legolas would be caught up in the thick of it, he and his elite comrades of deadly skill and daring.
Ai, ionen, I am sorry but now may not be the best time to begin a romance.
The idea made him angry, for Legolas gave so much and asked so little in return. Abruptly he ripped the bedraggled crown of summer flowers from his brow and cast it down upon the desk, landing his palm atop it with a loud thump. A great sigh moved his shoulders and he lowered himself into the chair slowly as fury gave way to resigned determination. For some minutes he remained still, elbows propped upon the table, the heels of his hands covering his eyes, and then he roused himself. With effort he subdued his show of despair and returned to his guests, offering an apologetic smile.
"It is dire news indeed, but let it not be said that Thranduil faults the messenger for the tidings delivered. Whatever woe is about to beset us, it is none of your doing, noble mellyn from Imladris. I beg you will remain long enough to refresh yourselves and enjoy the hospitality of Greenwood before you go. We are pleased to host you here for as long as you would choose to stay."
They were gracious words and the sons of Elrond responded at once, standing and bowing as they spoke their gratitude. Yet they heard the courteous dismissal in the King's tone and realised he had need to discuss this news with his own people. They excused themselves and left the study.
"He took it well," remarked Elladan quietly, leading the way back to their chambers.
"Aye, yet I would imagine the trade negotiations will be curtailed in light of this new threat," Elrohir added. "He will want those men gone since they have no intent to aid him."
"Mayhap when they realise this, and that they stand to lose the benefit of Thranduil's gold, the men of Dale will rally," suggested Aragorn. His brothers shared an incredulous glance between them which they then turned upon their young kinsman. Aragorn conceded sheepishly. "Aye, well, it was a hopeful thought. Baragûr does not seem a wholly obnoxious and self-serving sort. Not all men are so opportunistic. I would gladly stay and aid the King."
"We know, Estel, and so would we," rejoined Elrohir, "but our path carries us elsewhere."
"Need it do so?" asked Aragorn. "This is a cause that bodes ill for Lorien, too. Dol Guldur looks down upon Caras Galadon and Lord Celeborn is unlikely to appreciate Wraiths on his very borders."
"Again, we do not disagree," answered Elladan, "but someone must carry this dire knowledge to him and to the rest of the elven realms. We cannot entrust it to a messenger. Our plan was to remain two days and no more; to this we must hold."
"Why?" demanded the man. "The Nazgûl will know Curunir watches Mordor constantly and likely as not expect he has already sent word to Lorien and Imladris at least. We are needed here, muindor, and I am loathe to turn my back on these wild elves. It feels wrong." He halted in the corridor and grabbed at Elladan's arm to make him stop. "Look me in the eye and tell me you do not feel a coward to deliver this news and go."
"Aye, it feels wrong," admitted Elladan with a sour scowl, "but our duty is to protect you, not the woodland folk. Allowing you to become embroiled in the affairs of Greenwood does not serve that purpose. You cannot ask us to knowingly put you in harm's way."
"No more do I," Aragorn said, standing tall. "I am a man full grown in my own right and do not need your leave. I am free to offer my sword in service to Thranduil if it pleases me."
"Elbereth, Estel, now is not the time to assert your independence," complained Elrohir. "This is not your fight."
"Too true, brother, for it is everyone's fight. We know why Sauron sends his dread captains here. We know what he seeks in the valley of Anduin. Do as you will; for myself, I cannot just let him find it without posing opposition. I will stay if the King will have me. Mayhap I can convince these lacklustre men to see reason and ally with Greenwood." Aragorn pushed past the twins and stomped away down the hall, rather disappointed in his brothers. Yet he had not travelled more than ten paces before they were at his side, each one draping an arm across his shoulders, grinning in that frightening way they did whenever the prospect of killing orcs presented itself.
"Now, Estel, do not run off all incensed and indignant," soothed Elrohir.
"Aye, did you really think we would turn from a fight like this?" Elladan chimed in.
"Well, yes, since that is what you told me to do." Aragorn looked from one to the other in confusion. "You will stay, then?"
"Aye, we will stay. We just wanted you to make the decision on your own," answered Elrohir.
"And are quite proud of the definitive way in which you stood up to us and made it," Elladan concluded, giving his young kinsman a hearty slap on the back. "Now, as we face gruelling days of hardship and battle ahead of us, I suggest we return to that lovely grotto and find some of those inviting sylvan rumps within which to spend our desires."
"That is the finest idea I have heard in many a long day," agreed Aragorn, features resolving into a broad grin of hungry craving. "Do you suppose I could ask for that fair wisp of a thing Thranduil carted off to his private suite? He certainly raised a smile on the King's face."
"You want a male?" Elladan was surprised.
"Why not?" Aragorn shrugged. "I see no reason to spurn such an intriguing person just because of his sex. There are delights to be had with both sexes."
"I don't dispute you, Estel, I simply did not know you were so ecumenical in your tastes," his brother laughed.
"Or that you could see enough of him to judge his worth," Elrohir added.
"It was the hands, very long and delicate," said Aragorn, "and the golden hair, and the pale, creamy skin of his slender feet. I've the desire to see the rest. Besides, if he is favoured by the King he must be special indeed."
"Even so, I doubt that one is ready for more," laughed Elrohir. "It would seem Thranduil used him quite thoroughly to promote such a deep slumber."
"Aye, give me someone fresh and eager to be ridden," remarked Elladan. "I don't want anyone with whom I must be delicate and gentle, at least not tonight. Now then, here is where we divide and conquer, for this is one activity I have no desire to share with either of you."
With this agreement made, they parted ways and went prowling for prey of a most enjoyable sort. Yet while he made enquiries on Legolas' whereabouts, none of the courtesans had seen him that day and Aragorn ended up with a fair maid instead. Though he was not about to complain of the quality of her company, the fact that he had been deprived of his first choice made him crave it all the more.
The man rose early to join the promised hunt and was pleased to see Elboron and his wife along as well. Surely the King's brother would know where Thranduil's little golden prize was hidden. Yet the vivacity of the sport kept them from conversing as the quarry was a wily and fierce boar who had been growing fat and bold as he aged. It took some time to chase him down and slay him, as the woodland folk hunted on foot without the aid of hounds and only used spears, so to give the animal some semblance of a fair chance.
The kill went to one of Elboron's distant grandchildren and a feast was immediately declared to celebrate both the daring deed and the presence of such distinguished visitors under the trees. With the return trip less strenuous and hectic, Aragorn at last had opportunity to quiz Elboron.
"Where to find Legolas, that is the eternal question that rings through the stronghold," he laughed, "for Thranduil asks after him constantly. Legolas tends to escape into the trees when he needs to be alone and keeps a talan close to the mountain. Normally, he would attend the hunt but in this case was much too sore to participate. He will be at the feast, though, and I will gladly introduce you then."
This was such promising news in every way that Aragorn did not bother to ask anything else, imagining the meeting and what would transpire after the feast.
Elboron did not find it odd, thinking Aragorn had asked out of simple curiosity. He did wonder a bit when, upon returning to the stronghold, Elladan came to him and also asked about his nephew. He gave the elder twin a similar reply to that which he had tendered to the man. As the evening wore on and the second of Elrond's sons presented himself and inquired after the prince, Elboron was positively flabbergasted, especially since Elrohir asked plainly if Legolas was exclusive to anyone in particular.
Replying in the negative, the King's brother mistakenly thought his nephew had inspired two worthy suitors and an honourable mortal friend and hastened to inform Thranduil of this development. That puzzled the King, for he knew the three visitors had not had more than a quick glimpse of his son. Nevertheless, it was something to think about and he made plans to address the subject with Legolas at the first opportunity. The stage was thus set for a misunderstanding of towering magnitude.
Aragorn was in high spirits as he took himself along the winding passageways through the bowels of the mountain down to the grotto and the steaming pools. He wanted to be refreshed and resplendent when he met Legolas, thinking he had to compete with Thranduil's physical beauty and undeniable virility. Of course, he shouldn't be worried about pleasing a courtesan; it was the courtesan's job to please him, but still he did not want to be found wanting in any respect. The King had worn the ellon out to the point of forcing him to refrain from any strenuous activity for the whole of the day after their encounter. That was a rather intimidating performance to follow.
He neared the private bathing rooms of the royal family and smiled as he heard the strains of flute and lyre mingling with the soft voices of an elvish trio. Just as he was about to enter, out came the maiden with whom he'd spent such an enjoyable few hours the previous night. She was clothed in a long loose gown of pale yellow silk and smiled as she enveloped him in a warm embrace.
"Have you need of me, Hîren?" she asked.
"Nay, not at the present," grinned Aragorn, hugging her back as tight as he could. She was soft and supple and warm in all the right places and his errant body immediately responded. She giggled and withdrew, giving his crotch a playful little pat.
"Then I'll take my leave. Oh, and Legolas is here soaking to ease those nasty bruises so he can dance at the feast tonight."
"Bruises?" Aragorn was stunned. He knew this kind of thing went on but hadn't imagined it was the sort of sex-play Thranduil would like. Then again, he'd just met the monarch and knew nothing about him besides rumour.
"Aye, but he says he's feeling much better tonight. You did say you wanted to meet him?"
"I did…I do," Aragorn stuttered.
"Well, make certain to reveal your presence before entering. Sometimes Legolas just wants his privacy and I get the feeling this is one of those times," the serene geisha hinted. With a polite nod she left Aragorn to ponder these words.
The man hesitated. He was not interested in rough antics like this. Yet, perhaps Legolas would be glad of a softer, more romantic style of love-making. Should he take this chance and avail himself of Legolas' services now? Surely it would be best to wait until he was recovered fully. On the other hand, he didn't want anyone else to engage the ellon for the night. Aragorn decided he must at least secure the elf for later and hoped to learn something more of him, even if all they did was talk and soak. He gathered his resolve, heart, and other less esoteric aspects of his anatomy, leaping at the prospect of finally getting to see this alluring creature.
Inside the King's private grotto the lights were muted and glowing in a lustrous shade of indigo. The musicians were playing a sultry and seductive tune, the lyrics sung in that obscure dialect making it sound quite exotic and exciting. Aragorn could see no other elves present and at first feared he had missed his chance, but as he walked deeper into the more sheltered alcoves, a soft sloshing of water caught his ears. Unconsciously, he slowed and approached with caution, making sure the soft soles of his felt slippers made not the faintest tell-tale scraping against the stone. Why, exactly, was uncertain save that he wanted to have a peek at his would-be paramour before revealing his presence. Perhaps it was the notion of pain intruding into what was meant to be supremely pleasurable that was daunting. In any case, he crept upon the scene of muffled susurration and paused where a lovely cascade of crystal-studded stone partially obscured a small chamber.
Pale yellow light flowed out and mingled with the external cerulean gleam, producing a lovely viridian aura that undulated gently and gave the setting a slightly surreal and dream-like quality. Aragorn edged forward and peered around the ruffled edge of the outcrop. The elf was reclining in the small pool with his back to the entrance so his face was mostly obscured, but the long mane of golden hair poured over the rim of the basin and pooled on the floor, glistening where the light got caught in the mist clinging to the strands. What was even more fascinating and made the man grin in delight was the unmistakable motion of one of the long lean arms, vigourously pumping and thus creating the sibilant swash of mineral-rich water. The elf was plainly pleasuring himself, lost in the sensation and the fantasy fuelling it, oblivious to his audience, and Aragorn simply could not resist getting a better view of such a tantalising show.
He stole closer, entering the room and manoeuvring alongside the low pool, and caught his breath. The ellon was exquisite, from his passion-crinkled brow to the knees poking up through the water, a vision of potential ecstasy that was unbelievably erotic. His eyes were shut and he had his lower lip endearingly captured beneath the upper row of incisors, the teeth just showing their pearly rippled edges. His upper body was exposed and Aragorn took a moment to admire firm pectoral muscles and bright scarlet nipples over which the warm water crested and broke in sloppy little waves. The busy hand and the erection it encircled were disappointingly below the surface and this was the only aspect of the tableau that needed remedy. Without even thinking Aragorn acted on the first idea of how to do this which flitted into his head.
"No one so lovely should perform in solitude. I would be pleased to relive you of such strenuous activity that you might enjoy the experience to the full."
The ellon shot bolt upright, a startled cry fleeing his lips as his hand, no longer hidden beneath the water, grabbed for a dagger that was not there, which was a good thing for Aragorn.
"Who are you?" he shouted, flushed with embarrassed outrage. "Get out of here! How dare you come sneaking in here, spying on me! I'll throttle you, I will!" He leaped from the pool in all his naked glory and in two strides had grabbed up a towel which he hastily wrapped around his waist and the slowly subsiding rosy erection jutting from the crux of his legs. Holding the towel tight in one hand, he advanced upon the intruder.
"Ai! Forgive me for startling you, Legolas," Aragorn hastily backed away as he spoke, smiling in what he hoped was an engaging manner, heart thumping at the wild light in those amazingly blue eyes, "but there is no need to fear. I would not harm you. In fact, I came to secure your delightful company for the evening."
"You came to what?" Legolas stopped, utterly dumbfounded, and looked the man over critically, noting the evidence of a rather imposing arousal pushing out the fabric of the loose robe he wore. It dimly registered that this must be the man attending the sons of Elrond, but he could not focus on that point. "That is…I can't believe you…And how do you know me? Leave at once!" This last phrase he bellowed so loud that the musicians stopped playing and were surely hurrying over to see what was amiss, with the result that it was actually Legolas who fled the scene rather than be found in this mortifying predicament. He darted away, dripping a wet trail behind, racing along the halls to reach his rooms.
TBC
NOTE: I will stop here for now :D There is more to come and I will work on it as I can. Everybody keep me in your thoughts, I'm in a dicey situation just now. Not sure if I will post again before Xmas, but I will try. In case not, Happy Holidays to everyone out there. You guys are the very best and I am so glad of your friendship and continuing support.
Glossary:
Baragûr - Fiery-heart
Andaith - a mark denoting a long sound for a vowel.
Ela! Elladan ar Elrohir, tultâ di gwa-lassiê - Behold! Elladan and Elrohir, come under the leaves. ( a traditional sylvan greeting in primitive elvish)
Brûn flad-en-gwaew, pedich farn - Old bag of wind, you speak enough (you talk too much)
melethron - male lover
Ernilen - My Prince
Elboron - Brave Star