To Love and Be Loved

Rated NC17

Summary: Legolas has his first close brush with death. AU, Slash

Author: Emmess

More time passed, and with each day Legolas grew stronger. The infection that had been eating the flesh of his arm faded, leaving an angry, red, open wound that took months to heal. Galion knew Legolas would always carry that reminder of his ordeal, for even the amazing healing powers of the Elves would not completely erase it. His body eventually overcame the effects of the venom, returning to its usual hardy state, although his strength took a long time to recover.

Moved to his own chambers as soon as Galion was certain he was able, Legolas flourished under the care of the butler. His temperament returned to its former good humor, although his ordeal had left its mark. Legolas was not the lighthearted, carefree adolescent he had once been…he was now too well aware of the dangers of life in the wood, and the seriousness needed to meet it.

He had matured through a trial by fire.

Sitting in a cushioned chair near the fire, bundled in blankets to ward off the chill in the room, Legolas stared at the dancing flames. His activities were severely curtailed because of his slow recovery, and he could do little else but read and think. Of late his thoughts had been consumed by philosophical questions for which he could not find suitable answers either on his own, or in the myriad of books in the library. Why did Elves live forever? Why were Men, the Second Born, gifted with death, while the First Born were forced to either sail to Valinor to begin a new existence, or die and be sent to the Halls of Waiting to be reborn? Why did Eru allow pain and suffering for any of his Children? Why, why, why. The questions came easily, the answers, not at all.

"A gold piece for your thoughts, Legolas," Galion smiled, seeing his ward's brow furrow once again, deep in thought.

"Why, Galion? Why do we exist at all? What is our purpose? To simply live, breathe, eat, sail or die, and start all over again?"

"Ah, that is the question Elves have asked themselves since we first opened our eyes to face the dawn, Legolas. To my knowledge, there is only one answer."

"What is that answer then, Galion?" Legolas asked, looking up from his cocoon of blankets.

"To love, my Prince…to love and to be loved. To leave this world a tad bit better than we found it. Which, I might add, you have already managed to do, since this world has one less hideous arachnid than we had before you went out to forest that day," The butler answered, smiling broadly. "I have a gift for you…" He handed Legolas a small parcel, wrapped in cloth.

Carefully unwrapping the unexpected gift, Legolas peeled back the cloth to reveal a knife unlike any he had ever seen. A keen blade the length of his hand shone in the firelight, its serrated edge gleaming and wickedly sharp. The tang seemed to be made of some type of carved, black bone - hard and cold to the touch, with a grainy, pebbly finish that Legolas realized would prevent slippage in sweaty hands. Looking up curiously at Galion, he asked, "Why do you give me such a fine gift? I have before never seen the likes of such a blade!"

"That is because it is the only one of its kind, made especially for you. Our best metal worker crafted the blade - its serrated edge is meant to remind you always of the bite reckless behavior can deliver. The handle was carved by our best artisan from the fang of the spider you killed to remind you always of your bravery and strength in the face of adversity. It is yours because you have earned it."

"I did nothing to earn such a fine gift, Galion. I was stubborn and foolish…disobeyed a direct order from my father and King…nearly got myself killed…and caused a great deal of grief and heartache for everyone I love," Legolas said sadly, holding the knife out to Galion.

Galion gently pushed the hands holding the knife back down to Legolas' lap. "Listen to me. Yes, you did all those things…it is true. But you managed to do something that very few Elves have been able to do…you survived against all odds and did not fade. You did not give in, Legolas, and that type of fortitude will serve you, Mirkwood, and Arda in good stead in the years to come. Further, I had this made for you because I wanted you to have something to remember this ordeal by besides the scar on your arm. The scar will remind you only of the pain - the knife will remind you of your courage."

"I…I do not know what to say, Galion…"

"A simple 'thank you' will suffice, Legolas," the butler smiled, pulling the blankets up tighter around the Prince.

"I thank you, Galion. I am most grateful."

"Now, I believe the time has come for you to finish your tea - although it is probably ice cold by now - and take a hot bath before retiring," Galion said, turning to prepare the bath for the Prince.

As Legolas watched his butler walk away, he suddenly became aware of two things - two things that probably would have never occurred to him before his ordeal had provided a means to maturity for him. First, Galion was truly devoted to him, having spent countless hours nursing him through his illness, and was deserving of Legolas' loyalty, devotion, respect, and gratitude in return; and second, Galion was lovely to look upon.

The first thought left Legolas feeling enormously grateful to the older Elf, a sudden surge of warmth flooding his soul; the second thought left him feeling surprised and a bit uneasy. Surprised that he had never noticed Galion's appearance before, and uneasy at his own body's reaction to the revelation.

His eyes followed Galion as the Elf walked about the room, gathering the necessary articles for Legolas' bath. As tall as the Prince himself, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, his long legs carried him gracefully through his errands. His fine boned face was quite pleasing with his cornflower blue eyes that could, in turn, be soft with compassion or cold with fury. Legolas had had many opportunities over the years to see both, and smiled to himself, remembering. Galion's hair was most unusual for a Wood Elf, and his most striking feature. Golden, long and flowing, like most of the fair haired Elves, his hair was set apart from the rest by streaks of fiery red that reminded Legolas of the sun just before it dipped below the horizon at the death of the day.

For a moment, Legolas wondered what that hair might feel like slipping through his fingers…held against his cheek…against his…

Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Legolas picked up his cup and sipped at the cold tea. He felt a blush creep up his neck as he realized one more thing…his observations had given him an erection.

"Are you ready for your bath…Legolas…are you feeling ill? You look flushed," Galion said, concern suddenly in his voice.

"I am fine…I think I'd just like to sit here a moment or two longer, that's all."

"Perhaps the bath will help you feel better. Come quickly now, before the water gets cold," Galion instructed, reaching to take Legolas' arm and catch hold of the blankets.

"I can take a bath by myself, now, Galion. I do not require assistance any longer," Legolas replied rather testily, gripping the blankets to himself.

"Nonsense. I have been tending to you in your bath since you first squeaked out from between your mother's legs. Come now, the water is chilling," Galion said impatiently, pulling Legolas bodily out of the chair.

The blankets that had been wrapped around Legolas' body, hiding his secret, fell to the floor. Legolas' entire body blushed as he tried to look anywhere but at the Elfservant, or his own groin.

Galion was an ancient Elf, coming to serve Thranduil's family before they had even settled in Greenwood, while his father, Oropher was Kingand his experiences were rich and varied. He saw Legolas' condition and immediately knew what had caused the young Elf to blush. Making no mention of the Prince's obvious problem, Galion led Legolas to the bath, where a tub waited, its perfumed water steaming in the chill air.

Legolas slid into the hot water, grateful for both the older Elf's silence, and the depth of the water that now hid his hardened Elfhood. He hoped desperately that the bath would relax him - all of him - before he had to get out of the tub again.