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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4275 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter IX: Cracks

“He is a remarkable archer. He aims true without fail.”

“And aims high. He spends much time with the Lord Elrohir. More than what is seemly I dare say.”

Legolas stiffened slightly as his sharp ears picked up the muted conversation behind him. He glanced back and recognized Lord Gethron, a baron who sought influence in Gondor’s court. It was he who had uttered the latter statement, which insinuated more than was comfortable for the Elf-prince.

It was but a few hours after his parting from Elrohir and he was still in turmoil after his long morning’s musings. So troubled had he been that he’d sent word to the royal couple that he would not join them for the morning meal then hastened away before Elrohir should come in search of him. He’d then attempted to calm himself by means of a soothing walk around the Citadel.

His meandering route had taken him to the near deserted battlement where he had passed the other two without marking their identities. Now, as he looked out at the Pelennor, he realized they had halted in their progress and were studying him speculatively.

“I hear they are friends of long standing,” the baron’s companion said.

“And I wager they are more than friends,” Gethron said suggestively.

“What do you mean?”

“I have heard tales of Elves and some of their strange practices. Who knows what unholy deeds this Elf-prince indulges in?”

Legolas felt a chill sneak up his spine. Gethron had struck too close to the bone. He had to put a stop to such dangerous talk immediately. He turned to face the startled men.

“I thought the men of Gondor courteous enough not to speak behind another’s back,” he said evenly.

The two stared at him wordlessly for a moment, shocked that he had heard their near whispered exchange. But Gethron recovered the sooner and wasted no time answering the prince’s charge.

“We are only concerned for the welfare of our king and kingdom,” he retorted.

“And so see fit to slander me?” Legolas remarked.

“And is it slander?” Gethron dared to sneer. “You are ever at the Lord Elrohir’s side – even unto the late hours of the night ‘tis said. Who knows what counsel you offer our king’s brother?”

Before Legolas could speak, another voice made itself heard.

“You insult my closest friend and one of the king’s most trusted comrades.”

The noblemen whirled in surprise to face Elrohir. He had come up behind them soundlessly and heard Gethron’s allegations.

“My lord! I—”

“You accuse Prince Legolas of indulging in unholy deeds. Tell me, since I keep such late hours in his company, are you suggesting that I, too, practice those same deeds?”

Gethron blanched. There was no mistaking the steel in Elrohir’s voice. It was perilous to cross Elessar’s foster brother. The Elf-lord had no compunctions about putting one in one’s place. Oft times in a most painful manner.

“Nay, I – it was uncalled for,” the baron hastened to say. “I beg your pardon, my lords.”

Elrohir simply skewered him with an icy glare, which sent him and his companion hurrying off. The warrior kept his eyes on them until they disappeared from sight.

“Gethron grows bolder each year,” he remarked acidly. “He is ambitious, that one. Estel had best beware of him for I doubt he is one to trust overmuch.”

When Legolas did not reply, he glanced at him curiously. He was taken aback by the flicker of anger in the archer’s eyes.

“You show your regard for me far too openly,” Legolas reproved. “You should not have interfered.”

Elrohir glanced at him in astonishment. “You would have had me stand by silently while he insulted you?” he asked in disbelief.

“I can defend myself.”

“But I am your friend. I could hardly let such an offense pass unnoticed.”

“You will give Gondor a reason to talk about us – about me,” Legolas tersely said.

“Legolas, all Gondor knows about our close friendship,” Elrohir pointed out.

“But not all Gondor approves,” the prince replied impatiently. “I told you, Elrohir, I will not have my honor questioned. Your demeanor will only draw suspicion upon me.”

“This is absurd,” Elrohir protested. “I have done nothing but act as a friend. And as your host during your stay here, ‘tis my duty to see to your welfare at all times.”

“That may seem reasonable to you but to those who seek to discredit me, even that can and will be subject to scrutiny. I said it before, I will say it again; you have to be discreet!”

Elrohir opened his mouth to argue then thought better of it. It would lead them nowhere since the prince was patently determined to stand by his point. The warrior decided to give way for the sake of peace between them.

He took a deep breath. “If I indeed erred in this matter, I am sorry,” he said diplomatically. “It shall not happen again.”

“See that it does not,” Legolas said curtly before striding away with nary a word of farewell. Elrohir stared after him in hurt surprise.

It did not end there. It was but the beginning – of what, he could not tell save that it would most likely bring him grief. A pattern began to develop wherein Legolas would find fault in him, even in the most inconsequential of matters. Many a time would such an episode be followed by an apology and warmer than usual amends but that did not mitigate by much the sting of the preceding chastisements. Or their increasing frequency and bewildering pettiness.

Granted that there was good in chiding him for his sometimes too sharp tongue or remarking on the way he treated those he considered unworthy of his notice. But when even the way he dressed or braided his hair was called into question he began to bristle. It was insupportable to now be criticized for something that had never been an issue between them before. And always, always, reminding and reprimanding him to keep a decent distance between them when they were in public. You’d think we have not known each other for millennia the way he wants me to comport myself in his presence, Elrohir sourly observed.

His misgivings multiplied. And an indefinable ache began to gnaw at his heart.

********

On the day of the Harad delegation’s imminent arrival, the men of the royal family went on a morning’s hunt in the small forest south of Minas Tirith. Elessar had no intention of losing the feral edge of his days as a Ranger of the North and would take to the chase here and then, eschewing even the presence of the hunters in his service.

Besides, the Haradrim were late by nearly a week. September was nigh upon them. Let these tardy Southrons bide their time should they arrive while the king was still out. They’d certainly kept everyone else waiting for them! With that parting shot, he rode off taking Eldarion with him as well as Elrohir and Legolas and only a few trusted men-at-arms.

The hunt proved rewarding and by the time they were done, there was a sizable cache of game to be transported back to the City. It was while they were preparing to return that they were waylaid in a most charming manner.

They were met at the very outskirts of the forest by a beaming Arwen, Aragorn’s two young daughters and an impromptu feast of the Queen’s devising. She’d had the royal kitchen prepare a most welcome midmorning repast of bread, cheese, fresh fruit and cool mead. After warmly greeting his thoughtful wife, Aragorn had the men-at-arms move off that his family may have some privacy. The king then readily and very happily settled down in the shade of the trees with little Romenna on his lap. The others followed suit and they all soon made short work of the food and drink.

Arwen smiled with pleasure as sighs of contentment rewarded her efforts. But she was not quite done with her surprises and she bade Eldarion to help bonny Eleniel unload the last basket from her steed.

Cries of delight greeted the appearance of huge, glistening berries and freshly churned cream. Arwen grinned triumphantly for it was she who had espied the particularly luscious offerings during a surprise trip to the market that morning.

Elrohir glanced at Legolas who had languidly reclined against a tree just behind him. The Elven prince looked longingly at the scarlet fruit but was reluctant to move from his comfortable position.

With an understanding smile, the warrior dipped one berry in the cream and offered it to the archer, placing it within tongue’s reach of the other’s lips. Legolas hesitated at first but finally opened his mouth to accept the fruit. In this manner did the Elf-knight feed him several pieces.

But as he did so, he noticed the prince’s growing discomfort. He wondered about it. Mayhap Legolas was embarrassed to be fed like an Elfling before an openly amused Eldarion. Not to mention a humorously indulgent King and Queen of Gondor.

He had all but forgotten the incident when the family finally returned to the City. Accompanying Legolas to the latter’s chamber, Elrohir noted his continued distraction. He watched as the archer perched himself on the sill of his window, leaning his golden head back against the frame. He looked pensive and thoughtful.

“What is wrong, Calenlass?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Legolas said. “Except...”

“Except?” the warrior prompted.

The archer sighed. “I would ask you to desist from feeding me that way in front of others,” he murmured.

Elrohir stared at him. “What way?” he inquired, puzzled. “I have oft fed you in that manner in all our years of acquaintance as you have done me. And even Elladan has done the same for you.”

Legolas lifted uneasy eyes to him. “But Elladan is not known to be my lover,” he softly said. “I would not inflict discomfort where it can be avoided.”

“Known to whom? Whose discomfort?” Elrohir let out a perplexed breath. “Legolas, you are not making sense. I do not—” He stopped of a sudden and gazed at the archer with dawning comprehension. "'Twas because Estel was watching that you felt uneasy with my attention,” he whispered, eyes widening in shock.

Legolas shifted uncomfortably on the sill. His failure to disabuse Elrohir of his suspicion was a sharp blow to the darkling Elf. He shook his head in frustration.

“The workings of your reasoning are mind-boggling,” he remarked dryly. “You were cool and collected when Estel caught me in your room with every evidence of our night’s coupling in plain sight. How is it that a simple act I have done for centuries should now discompose you?”

“I do not know why,” Legolas murmured. “It just did.”

Elrohir narrowed his eyes. “I think I know,” he said, softly but sharply. “‘Twas embarrassing enough for him to have learned about us by accident. But to have him personally witness our intimacy is beyond your forbearance. You do not wish for him to see how capable you are of responding to my pleasuring be it in bed-play or otherwise. You would have him still regard you as the loyal companion of the Quest whose heart remained untouched by any but him. That was the true reason why you did not wish to let him know about us, not my duty to Gondor or Eldarion.”

The blue eyes met his, a mutinous glow in their depths. Elrohir knew he was treading dangerous grounds for Legolas’ pride was second to none. But he was so incensed by his discovery that he did not care about the consequences of pursuing the matter further.

“That first morning must have galled you though you certainly concealed it well,” he taunted. “Tell me, Legolas, who is it that you think of when we couple? Is it his name that you would cry out in ecstasy were it not for my presence?”

Legolas leaped to his feet, his eyes blazing furiously. “You will not speak to me in so base a manner!” he growled. “I am not yours, Elrohir, you have no right to question me.”

Elrohir glared back at him. “Of course not,” he snapped angrily. “For I am only a friend and an unacknowledged lover whose feelings obviously no longer mean anything to you.”

He spun on his heel and moved to leave the chamber, heart beating wildly with barely suppressed ire and the beginnings of anguish and dread. But a strong hand caught him by the arm and he was compelled to turn around to face the archer.

Contrite eyes met his. Legolas bowed his head in shame. “I am sorry, I did not intend to demean you,” he murmured.

Elrohir swallowed past the ache in his throat. “Do not apologize,” he said at length. “You were only reacting to what I said. ‘Tis I who should beg forgiveness.”

The archer lifted his head and gazed at the Elf-knight. He could not fail to discern how heavy of heart Elrohir was because of what had just occurred.

“Nay, I drove you to it with my witless charge.” He drew in a deep breath. “You are right. I feel uneasy whenever you behave so – so familiarly with me in front of Aragorn. He knew nothing about us until now and, I must confess, I led him to believe that none had ever gained my affections as he did. I saw it as my gift to him, foolish as that may sound, since I knew his heart belonged to Arwen.” He winced as he saw the pain flicker across Elrohir’s countenance.

“Then I will not do it again.”

The words were uttered with such defeat that guilt struck Legolas to the core. In one stroke, he had stripped the joy from what had been an act of affection for so many centuries.

“I did not mean for you to stop,” he protested.

“Then what do you mean?” Elrohir asked in frustration. He shook his head. “I no longer know what to do or say that you will not condemn as wrong,” he honestly said. “I expected that whatever I did in love would be put to the test. But it seems that even what I have always done as a friend is just as objectionable to you.” His proud shoulders slumped tiredly. “I had better go. I would not have you discomfited anew should Estel choose to visit you and find me here.”

There was no sarcasm or recrimination in his statement. It was painfully clear that he was trying to grant the archer’s professed wish. His desolate demeanor breached Legolas’ shields for a moment and the prince acted instinctively to assuage the hurt he had caused the other. He reached up and cupped the Elf-knight’s face in his hands.

“I am truly sorry, Aduial. Do not go. Please stay,” he whispered before pressing his lips against the other’s warm mouth.

Elrohir hesitated, torn between his desire for the prince and the impulse to break away and flee his treacherous yearnings. He knew deep inside that this was but a respite from their increasingly fractious relationship. But he also admitted that he did not have the strength to resist what Legolas offered so temptingly. Resignedly, he allowed himself to take what joy he could from the archer’s unbidden attentions.

***********************

Glossary:

Calenlass - Greenleaf

Aduial – Twilight

To be continued…
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- 11
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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince