Riding Lessons

Pairing: Legolas/Éomer
Rating: R
Feedback: Always welcome at c_rhodora@hotmail.com
Setting: Post-RotK, AU
Summary: Thranduil and his family have sailed West, leaving Legolas as the new King of Greenwood. Legolas decides that a horse trade with the King of Rohan is in order.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No infringement or offence is intended.
Author’s Notes: This fic was written for the excellent Waters of Cuivienen fest challenge. Many thanks and praises to my beta readers, Zasjah and Panthera. This is dedicated to Dodger for putting up with me.

Part V. An Unexpected Guest

The two Kings signed the trade agreement the following afternoon. Legolas had wasted no time in asking his advisors to draw up a draft the night of cor coronation and had subsequently sent it to the Lord of the Riddermark for his approval. The King of Rohan’s advisors were considerably more miffed at the unorthodox procedure of the negotiation but did not question it, as their King seemed quite intent to get it done. For his part, Éomer dwelt on Gimli’s words during the midday feast as he signed the official parchment. *They invite their prey to a feast, fill their cups, sign a deal and then cure them in the morning.* An Elvish conspiracy indeed. But if that were true, the Man reasoned, where was his cure? Was there a cure for what Legolas had awakened in him?

The King of Rohan and his delegation together with the Dwarves of the Glittering Caves left the woods of Eryn Lasgalen a day later. It was agreed that Legolas would bring Echuir to Rohan in a week’s time, and the process of selecting horses and finding a suitable rider for the stallion would begin. The return journey to Rowas was uneventful and when Éomer saw the open plains of the Riddermark stretched before him, the Horse Lord breathed a contented sigh. It was always good to be home.

Éomer effortlessly slipped into his daily routine. The people had missed him in his absence and there was always some matter to attend to. Not once did he dwell on Legolas or their encounters in the magical Elven city. Eryn Lasgalen became distant and remote; the memories of his time there developed the warm afterglow of a pleasant dream, the details of which had become hazy in his mind and this did not trouble him.

However, at the end of the week, Legolas did not come. Éomer stood on the wide verandah of the Golden Hall and watched as a lone rider wearing the forest green cloak bearing the insignia of the special Greenwood envoy approached the gates of Edoras and was granted entrance. The Elven messenger dismounted and bowed before the King, pulling back his hood to reveal a head of golden hair before delivering his message. Éomer read it quickly. Legolas had been detained by an unexpected border dispute. The Elven King expected the matter to be resolved quickly and graciously asked for Éomer’s pardon and consideration. The Elf ended the message by saying that he would come at his earliest convenience but could not give an exact date. The King of Rohan maintained his stoic visage as he read the message. Then he told the envoy to rest and take some refreshment while he wrote a suitable reply. As the King of Rohan went to his study, he could feel the slight heaviness in his step mirroring the heaviness he felt in his heart. He was disappointed that the Elf had not come.

~*~*~*~

Legolas did not come the following week or the week after that, and no further word was heard from the Elven King. Éomer had already asked his wranglers to cull together the best of the wild horses for Legolas’ inspection. It was stipulated in the trade agreement that all the horses must be unbroken and handpicked by the Elven King on site. Éomer let the matter rest, knowing that Legolas would come as soon as he was able.

It was during this time that Lothíriel arrived, sent on a diplomatic mission by her father. It was a bold move that carried a double purpose – strengthening the relations between Rohan and Gondor as well as allowing the young princess a chance to become more familiar with the ways of the Mark and its daily affairs. The King of Rohan was too occupied with ruling his kingdom and being a good suitor to Lothíriel to give much thought to a horse trade that had been negotiated under dubious circumstances in another land.

Therefore, the Lord of the Riddermark was taken by surprise when a page approached him one bright summer afternoon to inform him that a visiting party of some importance was entering the city gates. Éomer looked out the window of his study just in time to see the gates close behind the party and he immediately recognized the forest green colors of the King of Eryn Lasgalen. A magnificent black stallion rode at the head of the group and there was no mistaking its rider. But the Horse Lord also noted something unusual about the group. With the Elven King and his royal guards rode a smaller team of soldiers surrounding an Elven carriage that did not bear the familiar crest of Legolas’ royal family. Apparently, the King of Rohan would have more guests than he had anticipated.

Éomer his his study to join Lothíriel who was already waiting on the wide verandah outside Meduseld. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek as she asked, “Will you receive your guests in the throne room?”

The Man shook his head. “Legolas does not particularly care for formality,” he answered. “I prefer to greet them here.”

Lothíriel nodded and together they waited at the top of the long steps that ledthe the Golden Hall. The carriage soon pulled into view and its erioerious occupant, a beautiful Elven maid, stepped outside, aided by none other than the Elven King himself. Even from this distance Éomer could see her radiant smile as she accepted Legolas’ proffered arm. She was very beautiful. Her dress was the hue of the first break of light over the plains; its fine Elven embroidery and delicate beading shimmered as she walked in the afternoon sunshine. But her most striking feature was her hair. It flowed freely about her and was the deepest, richest shade of auburn that the Rohan King had ever seen. She said a few words to her escort as they climbed the steps and Legolas laughed. Éomer marked how at ease they were with each other. Curiosity and a slightly more sinister emotion completely alien to the Horse Lord was starting to get the better of him. Without realizing it, he had pursed his lips into a thin tight smile by the time his Elven guests had reached the top of the stairs.

“Lord Éomer and Lady Lothíriel,” Legolas greeted them graciously, “please forgive my sudden and unannounced arrival. Allow me to present to you Lady Aduial of Northern Greenwood.”

“But of course,” Lothíriel said warmly, moving forward to embrace the Elven Lady. “How are you Aduial?”

“I am better,” Aduial answered, “no thanks to my liege.” She gave the Elven King a sideways smile that made Éomer purse his lips even tighter.

“You already know each other?” Legolas asked in an amused tone.

“We met during your coronation,” Aduial chastised, playfully tapping the Elf on the arm. “Lothíriel and I have much in common,” she added, giving the other woman a sly wink.

The King of Rohan was starting to feel like a forgotten stranger in his own realm.

“I am afraid that we did not have the pleasure of meeting during the coronation,” Éomer interrupted, stepping forward and taking Aduial’s hand to kiss it.

“No,” Aduial agreed, “but your reputation precedes you, Your Highness.”

“Call me Éomer, please,” the Horse Lord insisted.

Aduial glanced at Legolas again and smiled, making the Man wonder about the exact nature of the two Elves’ relationship, before looking at the King of Rohan. “Éomer it is,” she said.

Éomer was about to address Legolas directly when an Elven guard approached the group and caught the Elven King’s attention. The Man immediately recognized the Elf as the one who had succumbed to Rúmil’s charms the night before Legolas’ coronation. The Silvan Elf seemed quite different in the light of day, strengthening the Horse Lord’s belief that time and reality had somehow been suspended on that enchanted night.

“Yes, Lossendir?” Legolas inquired. “Is something the matter?”

“My Lord,” Lossendir began, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Echuir is being difficult. He will not allow himself to be handled by any of the guards and refuses to enter the royal stables.”

“I see,” Legolas replied with a small sigh. “Then I shall see to him myself.” Returning his attention to his companions, Legolas said, “Please go ithoithout me. I shall follow once Echuir is settled.” Then he grasped the Horse Lord’s forearm and he said, “I promise you that he will not always be this difficult. Echuir will discover that there is much to love in your noble land just as I have.” Dropping his voice a little lower the Elven King added, “stilstill the very air I breathe excites me. I look forward to spending some time with you later. I suspect we have much to catch up on.”

The King of Rohan watched as Legolas, accompanied by Lossendir, went down the steps he had just climbed. The Horse Lord suddenly had a desire to speak to the Elf, to discuss things that appeared forbidden, to understand why a few minutes in the Elf’s company had this effect on him. But it would have to wait. Now was not the time. Instead, he turned around and followed Lothíriel and Aduial who had already entered the Golden Hall, talking animatedly. The Man’s eyes followed the form of the comely Elven maid. There was a great deal he wished to know about her.

~*~*~*~

Éomer was unable to spend time with Legolas for the rest of the afternoon. Even during the evening meal, the conversation and the guests present prevented him from touching on topics that were foremost in his mind. He had, however, managed to learn more information about his mysterious Elven guest. Aduial and her party had been on their way to Gondor when they had been ambushed by bandits just outside southern Greenwood, which after the War of the Ring had been given to Lord Celeborn and renamed as East Lórien. Fortuitous timing had seen the party rescued by the King of Eryn Lasgalen and his Royal Guard, who were on their way to Rohan. The combined parties decided to detour to Lothlórien to rest and replenish their supplies. They stayed in the city of the Galadhrim for three days under the hospitality of Haldir, for Lord Celeborn had long since departed to dwell with the sons of Elrond in Imladris.

As Éomer listened to Aduial recount the tale, it reminded him of the bedtime stories told by his mother during his childhood of dashing knights saving damsels in distress. Legolas and Aduial could not have better epitomized the age-old archetypes, reinforcing the belief that fairytale heroes and their beautiful princesses still lived and breathed among them. Such stories always ended in the same manner, and as the King of Rohan watched the two Elven nobles laugh and converse at the dinner table, it seemed quite reasonable to him that their story would end the same way. It made him lose his appetite.

After the meal, the guests retired to their various rooms and the Horse Lord used this opportunity to invite Legolas to his study for a nightcap under the pretense of discussing their plans for the following day. It was not entirely a pretense, the Man reasoned to himself as he led the Elven King to his study; for they really did need to discuss the plans for carrying out the horse trade. It was just that there were other matters that needed discussing as well.

The King of Rohan swung open the heavy oak door to his study and stood aside to let Legolas pass, closing the door behind the Elf. His study was his favorite room in the palace. Given the choice of working outdoors or being cooped inside Meduseld, the Rohan King would always choose the freedom of the plains, but he was rarely given that choice. Since most of his work needed to be done indoors, he had set about making his study a place that he would enjoy spending a great deal of time in. That is why it was furnished with a long rich, velvet, maroon sofa and matching armchairs with a low oak coffee table placed in the center of the set, as well as his wide oak desk with its comfortable carved chair. One wall was lined with bookcases, for though few would have guessed it, the King of Rohan had become an avid reader after assuming the throne. Opposite the bookcases were large double windows that during the day gave the Horse Lord a magnificent view of Edoras and the rolling plains beyond, but at this time of night they were closed and shuttered. On the third wall opposite Éomer’s desk was the fireplace.

Legolas surveyed the room as Éomer went to the small table behind his desk to pour two goblets of brandy. He liked the study immediately. It felt lived in and homey, unlike most palace rooms that often had an atmosphere of impersonality and coldness. He paid particular attention to the magnificent tapestry that hung on the wall on top of the fireplace. It spanned the length of the room and depicted the glory of Eorl the Young, who was called such because he succeeded his father in youth and remained ruddy-cheeked until the end of his days. The tapestry showed how Eorl and his men came to the aid of the besieged northern army of Gondor on the Field of Celebrant in the year 2510 of the Third Age. To reward Eorl for his unfailing support, the Steward of Gondor, Cirion, gave Calenardhon, the land between the Anduin and the Isen, to Eorl and his people. Here the people of Eorl settled and renamed the land the Mark of the Riders and its people, the Eorlingas; but in Gondor, the land was known as Rohan and its people the Rohirrim. Thus, Eorl became the first King of the Mark.

“Eorl is still the greatest of our kings,” Éomer remarked as he came to stand beside the Elf and handed him his goblet of brandy.

Legolas nodded his thanks and continued to look at the tapestry thoughtfully. The Horse Lord was standing near enough that he could smell a fresh pine scent from the Elf. *He still smells of his beloved woods,* the Man thought, the scent triggering a cloudy memory and Éomer discreetly turned his head to study his companion.

“Rohan has a history of great kings,” Legolas said. “Your uncle was one of them.” Then he turned to meet the Man’s gaze, instantly holding Éomer captive. “And you have done many great deeds for one so young.”

Éomer took a sip of his brandy to hide the blush he could feel in his cheeks. He often forgot that the Elf surpassed him by centuries, millennia even, for Legolas had never lost his air of youthfulness, of exuberance, of mischief. He flashed the Man such a knowing smile that the Horse Lord could feel his blush deepen and he motioned for them to sit down. He was about to settle in his favorite armchair when the Elven King grasped him by the arm and directed him to the velvet sofa, and its rich maroon color had never seemed so enticing to the Horse Lord before. Legolas elegantly sat down, gently pulling the Man down to sit beside him.

“What have you done since I saw you last?” the Elf inquired.

“Nothing extraordinary,” the Man replied. He smiled and took another sip of his brandy. Alcohol and his Elven companion struck him as a dangerous combination, which is why he took another sip before speaking again. “But I understand that you have been busy.”

Legolas laughed. “The border dispute,” he said with a shake of his head. “That was certainly ‘nothing extraordinary.’”

“Actually,” Éomer said, “I was referring to Aduial.”

“Aduial?”

“Yes. How often does one save an Elven lady from a team of bandits?”

“Princess,” Legolas corrected. “An Elven princess.” Éomer raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had not been aware of that particular fact. “Aduial is descended from a line of Nandor kings who settled in northern Greenwood long ago, but I shall not bore you with Elvish history,” Legolas added. “Suffice it to say that Aduial’s family is as old as mine and she dislikes the use of her title.”

“An Elven princess then,” the Rohan King revised, pausing to choose his words carefully. “During dinner,” he began, “I noticed that on several occasions, you called her by another name. What was it?”

“Ah, yes,” Legolas laughed. “I called her ‘Rûnia’. It is an Old Sindarin word that means ‘fiery red’. No doubt you can guess where she received that nickname from.”

“You must be very close,” the Horse Lord commented, “to call her by such a name.”

“We are old childhood friends,” the Elven King replied. “In fact,” he added mischievously, leaning over and placing his hand on Éomer’s knee, “I shared my first kiss with her.”

Éomer nodded thoughtfully and absently said, “She must have been a good teacher.” Then he glanced abruptly at the Elf, realizing what he had just said.

Legolas found Éomer’s discomfort endearing and he squeezed the Man’s knee gently as he said in a low voice, “Why do you assume that she taught me?”

Éomer laughed nervously. The seduction in the Elf’s voice, his proximity, his scent – it was becoming too much for him and the Man found himself drinking deeply from his goblet. This was not how he had intended to begin the conversation. Attuned to the Horse Lord’s unease, Legolas pulled back and decided to try another approach.

“How is Lothíriel?”

Éomer almost choked on his brandy. From one uncomfortable subject to another and he was yet to bring up that which he most wanted to discuss, the hardest subject of them all.

“She is well,” he managed to say.

“I assume you’ve spent time with her during her visit?”

“Yes,” Éomer agreed. “The courtship is proceeding smoothly.”

“Proceeding smoothly?” the Elf repeated, arching an eyebrow questioningly. “That hardly sounds like a man in love.”

“Is love necessary for a successful political marriage?”

“No,” Legolas admitted, “but it is a welcome luxury.”

“Would you marry for love?” Éomer asked suddenly.

The Elven King did not reply straight away, but his lips curved into a wicked smile as though he found the question challenging. Éomer instinctively leaned in to better hear what the Elf would say.

“That question is not the same for you and I,” Legolas began enigmatically. “With an endless supply of time, I could wait to find the one I love despite the pressure to marry from my advisors.”

“But what if you do not find this person,” the Rohan King persisted, “does that mean you would not marry? Or what if the one you found was– ”

“Unacceptable?” Legolas smile grew wider. He had also moved closer as the Man spoke, skillfully maneuvering himself into the Horse Lord’s personal space; the Man’s arm now rested behind his back on the top of the sofa. “Why do you ask me these questions?” he whispered. He could feel Éomer’s hand wrap around his shoulder and he placed his hand on the Man’s knee again, slowly moving upwards.

Éomer no longer heard the Elf’s words. His eyes remained focused on the soft lips so near his own. Near enough to kiss if only he were brave enough to do so. *Why does he have this effect on me?* the Horse Lord wanted to scream. Éomer closed his eyes. He did not fully understand what was happening, nor the implications of their actions, but he knew that this was something he had to do.

Legolas studied his friend carefully. They were no longer in Greenwood, no longer surrounded by the security and safety of that Elven realm. If Éomer truly wished to pursue what they had started, the Horse Lord would have to make the next move. When the Man opened his eyes, Legolas knew that a decision had been made and the devious smile left his lips to be replaced by a smile of tender encouragement. Just as Éomer leaned over to kiss the Elf a knock sounded at the door.

The King of Rohan cursed softly as the two automatically broke apart. Who could have such abominable timing?

“Come in,” he called, his voice hinting at his agitation.

The oak door was pushed open and Aduial stepped inside.

“My lords,” she said deferentially. “I hope I am not interrupting,” she added, looking from Man to Elf.

“Not at all,” Éomer assured her, hoping his voice did not sound as brusque to her as it did to him. “What can I do for you?” he added in a softer tone.

“Actually,” Aduial replied, “I was looking for Legolas. Lothíriel suggested that I may find him here.”

“You have found me,” Legolas said. “Now what may I do for you?”

The teasing lilt had returned to the Elf’s voice, making the Horse Lord feel as though *he* were the one interrupting their conversation. The multi-layered tones in their voices left no doubt as to their deep-rooted history. Éomer was an outsider and as he looked at Aduial, he discovered that he found her threatening and this realization confused him even more. The Man had lost track of the exchange, so wrapped was he in his own thoughts. He did not become aware of his companions’ actions until Legolas stood up and addressed him.

“We will continue this another time,” the Elf said and the Man stood up as well, slightly disoriented by the situation.

“Of course,” Éomer replied graciously. Did he detect a note of disappointment in the Elf’s voice?

The Rohan King escorted his two guests to the door of his study and bid them both a good night. Legolas and Aduial had their own business to attend to and the Man did not wish to dwell on what that business might be. He was truly imagining things if he believed that Legolas regretted that their evening had come to an abrupt end. If one had a choice between spending an evening with a beautiful, intelligent Elven princess or a scruffy human king, any sane Man or Elf would choose the former, making the Horse Lord question his own sanity.

Éomer remained in his study a while longer and pulled out an old book on horse breeds. He flipped through it listlessly but could not concentrate on the pages. He poured himself another goblet of brandy and tried reading the book again. It was no use. He stood up heavily and went to his desk that was scattered with papers that needed to be read and signed. He stared at the sheaves. Unpleasant work. His goblet was empty again and he poured himself another helping. The brandy was certainly not assisting him with his work, but it was improving his disposition. He had almost, but not quite, forgotten about his Elven guests and their nocturnal activities.

At last the Horse Lord decided to retire to his chambers. He locked his study behind him and began walking down the empty hallway to his quarters. The walk seemed longer than usual to him. The King of Rohan had gotten lost in his thoughts again, an often enough occurrence on this particular night, and the Man trusted his feet to know which direction to take. Without reang ing it, he had subconsciously entered the guest wing where Legolas and Aduial were staying. Common sense told him to leave immediately, but the Horse Lord was not following common sense, especially when he noticed that one of the doors had been conspicuously left ajar. Curiously, he walked towards it wondering whose room it led to. It was careless of the occupant to leave their door unlocked. As secure as Meduseld was, Éomer made up his mind to shut the door for the sake of privacy and safety.

As the King drew nearer, he recognized the insignia of Aduial’s family that had been placed to the left of the doorframe. The Man stopped in front of the door. It was wide enough so that he could hear voices speaking inside. Aduial’s quarters were unusual among the guest chambers of Meduseld. If he wished to take a peek, Éomer knew that he would remain well concealed, for a short hallway, hardly more than a corridor, led into the room at the end of which were heavy gauze curtains separating the main sitting room from the corridor. Aduial had been given one of the more lavish apartments and so the Elven Princess had a separate sitting room and bedchamber, as well as a private bath.

Éomer’s natural inquisitiveness combined with the effect of the brandy overcame him and he pushed the door wide enough to step through, his original intention of shutting it far from his thoughts. The door’s hinges were well oiled and did nreakreak. As quietly as possible he walked down the corridor, taking care not to brush the wooden walls with his heavy clothing so as not to make a sound. The Man wondered whether his Elven guests’ heightened senses would be able to detect his presence but another thought crossed his mind, namely that his guests might be too preoccupied with other activities to notice or care. This sobered the Horse Lord a little, but not enough to deter him from his goal.

The corridor was dark. Only the barest candlelight managed to penetrate through the thick gauze curtains at the end of the hallway. Éomer could hardly see the path in front of him and believed it to be a miracle that he did not trip over his own feet. The voices became more distinct and there was no doubt who the occupants of the sitting room were. The Horse Lord’s thoughts briefly flitted to his counterpart in Gondor and for a moment, the Man wished he had some knowledge of the Elvish language. Why, even the Steward of Gondor was well versed in the ancient tongue. There was nothing he could do to change that now, he thought, stopping a foot away from the curtains. He moved to the left where the light from the room did not penetrate the dark hallway, ensuring that the Man remained completely shrouded in shadow. Carefully he peered into the rooiewiiewing it through the deep maroon tinge of the curtain. He could see Legolas sitting in an armchair, perly aly at ease as he held a goblet in his hand. The Elf was smiling though Éomer could not see whom or what he was smiling at. Aduial’s voice could be heard, playful in its lilting tone and soon the Elven Princess came into view, also carrying her own goblet. She took a sip from it before setting it down on a small table beside the armchair where her guest sat. Éomer could see her profile from his hiding place and the Man could not help but admire her beauty. They made a handsome couple.

Slowly Aduial sank to the floor before Legolas’ feet. She had changed into a deep, auburn gown for dinner and the rich hue of the velvet material perfectly highlighted her burnished hair. She smiled at Legolas as the Elven King leaned forward in a seductive manner to say something to her. His comment made the Princess laugh and Éomer remarked that her laugh sounded like tinkling bells. It made his chest tighten. Aduial responded by leaning forward herself as though she meant to kiss her companion, but Legolas drew back smoothly and watched her with an inviting smile on his face. Aduial accepted the invitation, rising up to kneel and placing both her hands on the Elven King’s knees. Then she paused and locked eyes with Legolas. They had played this game before.

Delicate hands leisurely traveled up the King’s thighs, gently spreading them apart as they did so. All the while Legolas held her gaze, almost daring her to continue. Aduial obliged, not wavering for an instant. Her hands reached their destination, and though her actions were concealed from Éomer’s prying eyes, he knew what she was doing. Then their eye contact broke as Aduial bent down, placing her head in the King’s lap. Legolas let out a small sigh and leaned back in his chair as the warm mouth engulfed him.

Éomer released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His eyes focused on the Elven King and the golden curtain of hair that fell over the Elf’s left shoulder, the way Legolas rested his head against the armchair so that it was tilted to the right, a half-smile on his face, his eyes shut. The Man marked the Elf’s lean form, the strength he knew that lay beneath that slender frame and the ivory hands that gripped the chair’s arm rests as Aduial continued her ministrations. The air in thrridrridor had suddenly become very hot and the Horse Lord could feel beads of perspiration break out on his back. His clothing had become too tight but he could not divert his eyes from the scene before him. He wondered what it would be like to be in Aduial’s place, to serve the Elven King as she was serving him. But was it really servitude? To provide such pleasure was a means of control. It put her in a place of dominance. Could the Rohan King usurp that place and hold his counterpart in thrall as Legolas so easily did to him? Or perhaps, his mind insisted, he would prefer that Legolas ‘serve’ him instead?

The Man stumbled backwards. He could hardly breathe in the stifling air of the passageway. He needed to be free from its confines and the thoughts that invaded him there. Looking up he saw that Legolas had been alerted by the sound and the Elven King appeared to be staring straight at him through the gauze curtains. Impossible, the Man thought to himself. Legolas could not see him. With a heavy heart and a confused mind the Horse Lord turned around and blindly groped his way out of the dark corridor.

tbc...