Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Last Wood Elf	By : Mel99Moe Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4551 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters or places. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 16 - Changes Taking Place

After the exchange with Grima in Meduseld, Legolas and Eowyn walked casually through the city, talking about anything that happened to come up. The pair of friends rounded a corner, and Legolas spotted Eomer. The elf hadn’t realized his friend was home from the borders. Eomer was still dressed in uniform, walking arm in arm with—

Legolas tensed when he saw that Eomer was with the shield maiden he had been trying to woo for some time now … and who happened to be Eowyn’s best friend. It had been established between brother and sister that her friends were strictly off limits as a love interest. Now, it seemed that Eomer was breaking the rules.

Eowyn was in mid-sentence when Legolas pulled on her arm, quickly changing directions, “Legolas, what—” Eowyn laughed at his abrupt behavior, and looked at him strangely, “Where are we going?”

“Oh, well we have walked that way so many times,” he said, coming up with any excuse to keep her from seeing Eomer, “I thought perhaps we would go a different direction.”

Eowyn knew instantly, from Legolas’ peculiar behavior, that something was amiss, but she went along with his story. What had he seen to make him behave so awkwardly? She patted his arm and they smiled at each other. Legolas felt sure that she hadn’t seen her brother and relaxed, but Eowyn took the opportunity to glance over her shoulder. She knew that golden sun-bleached head anywhere … Eomer.

So, this explained Legolas’ sudden anxiety. She should have known Eomer might get his friends involved in his secrets, especially in keeping it secret from her. Eowyn knew of her brother’s feelings towards her friend. It wasn’t that she Eomer was unworthy, or vice versa, but Alfía was her friend, her very best friend, and she plainly didn’t want to share. Eowyn had known Alfía since her and her brother first came to live with their uncle. The two girls connected right away. They shared all kinds of secrets between each other … but now—

Eowyn’s eyes shifted from Eomer to Alfía, her friend looking completely smitten. Eowyn seethed silently. This was nothing new it seemed, only new to Eowyn. Her gaze drifted downward to her shoulder and back to Legolas. She said nothing, and allowed him to lead her away from the couple. Poor Legolas, thinking he had diverted the situation in his favor, and that all was well. Eowyn could keep silent for now, use her knowledge make the elf sweat a bit before she revealed her findings. She did enjoy making the boys squirm when she knew something they did not, but she had not the patience for games today. Finally, unable to hold her tongue a moment longer, she spoke.

“So, how long have you known about my brother and Alfía,” she said calmly.

Legolas laughed nervously, “Alfía … and Eomer? Why, whatever gave you that . . . Ow!” He was interrupted by a severe knuckle punch in his upper arm.

Eowyn unwrapped her arm from around his, and stood face to face with Legolas, “Don’t lie to me, elf!” She only ever called him that when she was upset with him, “How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re—” Again he was interrupted, but this time, he dodged from the path of her fist, and she stumbled slightly. It might have been a funny scene to watch, but for the fact that Legolas was the intended victim of the fist. Deciding it was best not to irritate her any further, he answered, “A while now.”

His short answer seemed to confirm her suspicions. Eowyn stepped back and turned towards the direction she had seen Eomer and her best friend, but they had slipped away, “I knew there was someone. Alfía has been acting rather unlike herself for a while,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “She would not say who she secretly admired. I could have sworn it was Théo or at least she led me to believe it was him.”

Seeing her deep in a conversation with herself, Legolas looked up and away, searching for an escape. Eowyn noticed his nervous behavior, and her eyes tapered into slits as she regarded him once more. Elf or no, she knew that conscience-stricken look. He knew more than he was leading on, “Tell me everything.”

Legolas swallowed hard. Suddenly, having a standoff with Wormtongue didn’t seem so bad compared to facing the wrath of a shield maiden. Thank the Valar Lúta worked in the stables, he thought.

“Eomer and Théodred devised this plan to let you believe Alfía pined for Théo. They knew you wouldn’t be upset since he is already courting someone.”

“And in the meantime, Alfía is sneaking around with my brother?” She glared at Legolas and he nodded slowly. Eowyn shook her head, arms flailing in the air, “Why am I always the last to know?”

“Because you behave like this,” he answered, regretting it instantly, “Ow!” That comment assured him another punch in the arm. Since when did Eowyn move so quickly? “I don’t think I like being your practice dummy,” he complained.

He listened to her rant about Eomer being too immature for Alfía, about how this could ruin their friendship, and how she might never be able to look her friend in the eye again. Legolas remained silent and did not interrupt, afraid he would receive a third bruise. Eventually, Eowyn would run out of insults or she would need to stop and catch her breath. Then he would take his chances on escape, but as luck would have it, he didn’t have to wait long.

“Legolas,” someone called, and he spun around to find Lúta approaching them. He had never been so glad to see her.

Eowyn stopped mid-sentence and smiled, her ill temper suddenly vanished, replaced with cheer. She was quite a mercurial young woman, he thought and burned it to memory. From now on, Eomer was on his own. Legolas would not come between the personal disagreements of brother and sister again.

“Oh no, I have kept you too long. I forgot that you were meeting Lúta. I had better let you go,” Eowyn said. She smiled and greeted Lúta with a hug. Then she turned back to Legolas, all involvement in Eomer’s deception forgotten, for the time being. She grasped his hand and squeezed, “Thank you for what you did back there … in the hall,” she said, referring to the brief mishap with Grima and the awful man’s wandering eye.

Legolas bent down and kissed her forehead, “Just be wary of him, alright? I’ll discuss this with Eomer and Théodred later. And please . . .” he stopped and smiled, “Don’t kill your brother. We need him.”

“Can I just maim him?” she teased.

Legolas shook his head and Eowyn laughed, “Go on then, and I promise to be careful. You two enjoy yourselves.”

Legolas smiled at Eowyn, and then his eyes darted to Lúta, “Oh, we most certainly will,” he answered, their eyes catching.

Eowyn blushed and looked away, feeling like an intruder. She couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of envy. One day she hoped to find someone as true of heart as Legolas. She interrupted their moment in order to slip away from the infatuated couple, “I will see you later, Legolas. Nice to see you again, Lúta.”

Legolas watched Eowyn walk away, feeling a little anxious about letting her go after learning about Grima’s watchfulness, but his fear for her was replaced with fear for Eomer when he saw Eowyn change directions, following the same path in which she saw her brother go, “And no maiming either,” he shouted after her, but she pretended not to hear.

Lúta looked at Legolas curiously, “What was that about?”

“Oh nothing, except that Eowyn has just learned about Eomer and Alfía.”

“You didn’t tell her did you?” Lúta asked. She had obviously known about the secret too, after overhearing Eomer and Legolas speaking one day. Eowyn would be furious to know how many people actually knew about her brother. Secrets were never kept for very long in a small city such as Edoras. Lúta frowned at that thought. How many people knew about her and Legolas?

He shook his head, “She spotted them walking together a moment ago … but enough about them.” Legolas spun her around, capturing her by the waist. His smile was infectious, and his eyes blazed a brilliant blue as he gave her his full attention, “I have missed you so much, and I can hardly wait to get you alone in the woods. It has been far too long since we have spent any time together, just the two of us.”

Lúta slid his hands from her body and straightened her dress, “You know the rules, not while we’re in the city.”

He offered her his arm as was proper. She accepted, and they slowly took the path south, heading for the secret breach in the wall.

* * *

Legolas slid from Lúta’s body and came to rest at her side, pulling her close. They snuggled beneath the thick blankets spread upon the wooden platform hidden high up in the tree, reveling in the afterglow of their … secret time. This small wood was their safe hideaway where they could be together without fear of discovery. It was only a small patch of trees, and not far from the protective wall that surrounded Edoras, but it gave enough privacy to its visitors. Someone had built a flet within the thick canopy of the largest tree, and those who knew of it seemed to keep up its maintenance. New wooden planks were nailed over older ones that were weathered and worn.

Legolas nuzzled his nose into her soft red hair, smiling and completely sated, “We have taught each other much since we first did this,” he whispered.

Lúta pushed her back against his chest, “I could stay like this forever, in your arms.” She shifted and turned onto her back, her hand reaching into his hair, “But we better get dressed and get back before I am missed.”

Legolas frowned. “And what if we never went back, what then?”

“For one, my father would have your hide,” she teased, but his face became intent reflecting his thoughts.

“Lúta, you know how I feel about you, about us. We cannot keep this relationship cloaked much longer.”

“He would never agree, Legolas, and you know this,” she said speaking of her father, “And then I could never have you. We could never have this.”

“I want you Lúta, but I want more than this.”

“Do we have to talk about this now? It has been such a beautiful day. Let’s not ruin it.” She caressed the pointed tip of his ear.

Legolas rolled from his side to his back, away from her touch. Lúta felt his reserve and turned to face him. Suddenly, thoughts of a future with him filled her head, but they were laced with doubts and fears, and a sense of forlorn. A familiar ache touched her heart, “Have you ever really thought about us, Legolas? Have you given any consideration to our differences?”

Legolas hoped she was speaking of their likes and dislikes, but he knew what this was really about, “Lúta, I am the last of my kind living amongst humans. What am I supposed to do, never look for comfort amongst them, never feel love for them? I am an elf, but I have many of the same needs and I need you. I want to be with you, and I want you to feel secure about us.”

She wanted that too, and always had until just now. Some deep dark thought festered at the back of her mind. Had it always been there? And why now, when they were finally discussing their relationship, did it decide to wriggle its way forth like an insect clawing through mud, and trying to find the open air. She forced it back, burying it where she did not have to consider what it meant to love him, but the voice sputtered and hissed its way to the surface.

“He can never truly love you. He will remain eternally beautiful while you wither and die. What kind of life is that? He will not want you for long,” it chastised, destroying her hope with its poisonous words.

This was too much to contemplate all at once, and she shoved the familiar conflict back into her subconscious, “Right now in this moment I feel secure. As long as it is just us, I know it is safe. I’m afraid that when too many others know, they will try to tear us apart.”

Legolas gazed up into her eyes with an intensely cold stare, “Do you not have faith in us? Do you doubt our love could not withstand whatever challenge they throw at us? If that is how you truly feel then maybe we should not—”

Lúta could not stand to hear him finish that sentence, and threw herself onto him, kissing him as if to swallow his words. She felt him resist at first, but her consistency won, delaying the first argument they were on the verge of having. Legolas flipped her onto her back, rolling with her. Then he released her lips and gazed at her hungrily with his intensely blue eyes. A sly smile spread across his mouth as he spoke, “Do not think you have diverted my attention away from this. I know what you are doing.” He laughed from deep within his throat, “And it seems to have worked … for now. I am not through discussing this, but right now I want you.”

“But it is getting late,” she said, mocking protested as he writhed against her center.

“You will come up with an excuse. You always do. And someday soon, you will not need these lies anymore, but let’s not worry about that any longer.”

“You know I can never resist you, Legolas,” she panted. Once more, they joined beneath the thick blankets, tucked safely away from the rest of the world, lost to carnal desire, and doubts abolished for a little longer.

* * *

Winter charged in like a heard of oliphants, and the Rohirrim braced themselves for one of the harshest seasons witnessed since the Long Winter some two hundred and fifty years ago. The bulk of the armies were called back home leaving only the watchtowers manned. It was unlikely that there would be any activity, especially the threat of orcs, in weather like this. Winter seemed to neutralize both friend and foe, as survival against the elements became more important than fighting against each other.

It was for this reason that Théodred was home spending time with his father. He was also seeing the changes to Théoden’s behavior, very discreet and almost unnoticeable. No one knew the king better than his only son, and something was definitely awry. His main concern was Théoden’s orders to send a small amount of weapons to Helm’s Deep. It was not a significant amount, but it was an odd request.

There was a small community of Rohirrim who lived in this great fortress, and helped to keep the Hornburg from being reclaimed by nature. Should the threat of war or weather ever be a factor, the people of Edoras could take up residence there until it was safe to return home. Théodred wondered why his father hadn’t ordered them to go there before winter set in. Edoras and Meduseld were wondrous to look upon, but it did not hold much protection from extreme elements. High up on a hill in the open plains, it was often whipped by strong winds from summer storms or in this case, winter blizzards. The harsh winds crept into every crack and crevice and the cold was almost impossible to keep out. This meant the fires would need to be constantly lit resulting in the threat of a wood shortage. Some families decided to huddle together and share their stored winter goods. Others took their chances on their own. Luckily, the farmers made their predictions early, and the people heeded their warnings, preparing and gathering as much as they had space for. But the people of Rohan were tough and determined. It would take far more than a grueling wintertide to dampen their drive. They would survive.

* * *

Théodred met with Legolas and Eomer to discuss the latest news. They sat at one of the tables in Meduseld, one closest to the fire, warming up and enjoying a mug of ale.

“Actually, I am glad to be home for a while. It seems like ages since I have been here, yet so much has changed,” Théodred mentioned, “My father does not seem quite himself. He looks a bit pallid. I have seen him sick before, but this is different. Perhaps he has spread himself too thin with the winter preparations.”

Legolas shook his head, “It started before that. You and Eomer have not been here because of your duties, but I have watched him deteriorate. It is so slight though. No one but those closest to him would notice. I sense this change in him. He does not speak as openly as he used to, as if he has secrets to keep. Théoden has ever been open and honest with me, but now I almost feel as if he distrusts me, though that is a rather crude word. He just seems veiled at times, as though his thoughts are not his own.”

The three friends sat in silence while they contemplated this. No one wanted to say it outright, but all three of their minds turned to Grima. It wasn’t a subject any of them wanted to discuss at the moment, but it needed to be addressed soon. Instead, Legolas inquired about word on the open plains of Rohan. Unfortunately, it was not much better a subject to talk about, but just as necessary.

“Well, there is the talk of war,” Eomer answered, “but there always is. The latest are rumors that Dol Guldur still breeds evil within its decrepit towers. I have heard from travelers that the Rhovanion is still overrun with fell creatures, building armies to great capacity. No one governs the forests anymore and they breed like conies. Why would they do this unless they had plans to attack?” As Eomer spoke of Rhovanion, he watched sadness fill Legolas’ eyes, “I am sorry. I meant no disrespect to your home, my friend.”

“It is alright, Eomer,” Legolas patted his shoulder, “There is not much that I remember of it, only bits and pieces, and I can only imagine what has become of that place. Still, it’s where I was born, and it feels as if a hot iron pierces my heart when I think about it. But there is nothing I can do … not now anyways?”

Théodred nodded as he regarded Legolas, “I promise you that one day we will go there together with a whole army of Rohirrim, and we will fight side by side until the forest is cleansed of filth.”

“All three of us,” Eomer added, joining the others.

Legolas nodded in answer, and put his hand over his heart, but his head remained bowed as he looked into his mug. The look on his face had changed from gratitude to worry, as his brows creased.

Théodred couldn’t help but notice the shift in the air surrounding them, “What is it, Legolas?”

“I didn’t want to bring this up just yet, but I feel I cannot contain it any longer. You know as well as I that Grima is responsible for the tension felt within Meduseld,” he paused and turned to Eomer, “But it extends further than with the King. It’s about Eowyn. She has had some encounters … with Grima.”

Eomer’s face hardened, “What do you mean, Legolas. What has that worm done?”

“Nothing … yet, but he watches her, and makes her feel uncomfortable in his presence. I have witnessed it, and I can tell you that there is some wicked scheme working behind his weak façade. I know not what he’s up to, but I’m keeping a wary eye on him. She should not be left alone with him.”

“If he even so much as touches a hair on my sister’s head, I will strike him down,” Eomer growled, “I have never trusted him, and since he came back to Rohan, I distrust him even more.”

“Does my father know about this?” Théodred asked.

“No, and I’m not certain why I feel this way, but I don’t think it will do any good. Théoden heeds his advice, considers Grima’s words before anyone else’s,” answered Legolas, and his voice was laced with sadness, but Théodred was angered.

“He would listen to family before Wormtongue. I will talk to my father, warn him about this, and make him see that something is not right here. If Grima thinks he can influence my father with his poisoned words, then he is a fool. No one takes advantage of my family or my country, especially in my absence, and it is my duty to protect them.”

Legolas watched Théodred as he spoke, and something dawned on him. He had never seen Théodred like this before, taking control and owning to his royal namesake. It was the first insight to the man that the prince had become. Perhaps Legolas had never seen Théodred react so protectively towards anyone, but watching him now, the elf saw his love and concern for his family, as well as his people.

Suddenly, Legolas was aware that he too was a part of this family. Théoden took him in when he did not have to. He gave him proper training, and showed him how to live like the Rohirrim. And in some small way that only Théoden could express, he gave Legolas part of his love, and thought of him as one of his own. He was proud of the young elf’s accomplishments and rewarded him. A very deep trust came with that reward, and Legolas knew King Théoden did not react this way to just anyone. Legolas was a stranger when he came to Rohan, during a time when trust between different people and different races was running thin. Still, Théoden brought Legolas into his family, into his home, and gave him all the same opportunities as any young Rohirrim. That was something Legolas would never forget, and he was proud to serve Rohan.

Surprisingly, with the word trust flittering through his mind, his thoughts switched to Lúta. He loved her, and knew that she loved him. That was not where the problem lie, but it was the fact that she did not trust him to settle things with her family. Lúta’s father was determined to see that she married into a family that complimented his own needs and those of his business. But if Legolas could just speak with him, maybe he could make her father see that she would be well taken care of. If Théoden, King of Rohan had this kind of confidence in Legolas, surely Lúta’s father would give his daughter’s future a more thorough examination. Legolas thought he deserved this chance.

He had a lot on his mind, his concern for Eowyn’s safety and Théoden’s well-being, for Lúta’s trust and the respect of her family. He had lost track of the conversation between Théodred and Eomer, when suddenly he felt a nudging to his arm. He looked at Eomer, who sat beside him.

“Oh, there you are,” Eomer jested, “Were you having one of those elvish reveries or something of the nature?”

“No, I was just … I was thinking about things. The days are moving quickly. Eomer talks of war. Théodred is ready to take over for his ailing father. Yet there is stability in your lives. I think it is my turn to find my own constancy. I may be an elf, but Rohan is my home. I would fight to the death to protect its people, its King, or my friends … and that goes for those that I love. I should not be looked at as an anomaly, but as a member of this great land.”

Théodred and Eomer sat back at observed Legolas with astonished looks, as their elf friend declared to take a stance, “What are you talking about, Legolas?” Eomer asked.

Legolas stood from the table and said proudly, “I am going to insist that Lúta allow me to speak to her family, to properly ask permission to court her.”

His friends looked at him with their mouths hanging open, but Legolas ignored them, “It is time that I was accepted as a candidate for her hand. I may not have a family or own any land, but I am a member of the King’s family, if only adopted, and that should stand for something.”

Théodred was shocked to hear Legolas speak so passionately, “Well, I’ll be damned, Legolas, what has come over you?”

“I think that by hiding, it may end up damaging what Lúta and I have built. She worries about what her father will say, but I worry more about what she will think of me if I do not stand up to him,” Legolas stated, “I love her, and I think she loves me. It’s time that her family knew the truth, is all.”

Unexpectedly, Eomer shot up out of his seat, puffed his chest out and announced, “I am going to tell Eowyn that I have been courting her best friend. We are in love too. These things can’t be helped.”

Legolas turned to face Eomer, his fair complexion suddenly turning pink, “She has not spoken to you?”

“Who, my sister? Why?” Eomer said, and felt his mouth begin to dry.

Legolas grasped Eomer’s shoulder, “She knows.”

“You didn’t tell her did you?”

“She caught a glimpse of you and Alfía strolling arm in arm—”

“Shit!” Théodred said from behind his hand covering his mouth.

The three friends were silent for a while, each one drowned in their own thoughts. Then Eomer sighed deeply, “It can’t be helped, can it? So be it then. From now on, I’ll not have my sister dictating who I may or may not court. I love Alfía, and that’s all there is to it,” he said determinedly.

Eomer picked up his mug, and raised it into the air. He waited until Legolas and Théodred did the same, “For love!” Eomer proclaimed with absolute certainty sparking in his eyes.

Legolas’ countenance matched that of his friend, “For love!” he boasted in response.

Théodred lowered his mug back to his chest, shaking his head slowly back and forth. He regarded his friends as though they had both lost their minds, “You are both cracked, you know that? Eomer’s sister will have his head stuffed and mounted on a wall, and Lúta’s father will have Legolas’ ballocks displayed over the family hearth as a reminder to those that follow in the elf’s footsteps not to cross paths with an overbearing father.”

Eomer and Legolas shot Théodred a deathly glare, and Eomer spoke, “We are men of Rohan. We do not hide from anyone.”

Legolas felt a slight pang in his chest as Eomer referred to them both as men of Rohan, and he backed up his friend, “Our hearts have spoken, now let our voices announce our proclamation.”

Théodred raised an eyebrow in challenge, “And just when do the two of you propose to make said announcement?”

Eomer and Legolas turned their heads to look at each other. Clearly, they hadn’t thought it through so thoroughly. Legolas did not falter, and answered for the both of them, “We will do it just as soon as we find our women, and tell them this is how it must be.”

“Right!” Eomer agreed heartily, then he leaned towards Legolas’ shoulder, “But Eowyn already knows.”

“But you have not confronted her about it,” Legolas answered quickly.

Théodred sat forward, his elbows resting on the table in front of him, “Looks like one of you will get to do it now,” he said, looking past his two friends towards the main entrance.

Eomer’s face flushed to the same fair natural shade of Legolas, “What?” they muttered simultaneously.

“One of you has a visitor,” Théodred smiled slyly, as he gestured to the door.

Legolas and Eomer slowly looked over their shoulders to see which woman they had conjured up by their valiant speech.

“Legolas?” Lúta called lightly, afraid she was interrupting something.

Eomer released the breath he was holding and whispered, “Oh, thank Béma it wasn’t Eowyn.”

Legolas hadn’t heard Eomer’s mumblings, as his emotions curled tightly around his chest, surrounding his heart. Seeing Lúta suddenly calling out for him, he walked towards her with a determined stride, and captured her in his arms, “Lúta, I am so glad you are here.”

Taken by surprise, Lúta pushed back so she could look at him. She had never seen him so driven, yet there was an air of vulnerability about him and she wondered why, “Are you alright? Has something happened?”

Legolas cupped her face in his hands and caught her with his intense stare. “My love for you, that’s what has happened. I will not conceal it any longer.” He kissed her slowly, gently upon her lips.

When she caught her breath, she regarded him again. He was behaving strangely, “What is it, Legolas?”

“I have given this much thought, and I demand we speak with your father. Lúta, I want to be able to court you openly, and I can’t do that as long as we hide from your family. It is not fair to us, and it is not fair to them. I believe that once I speak with him, he will decide he needs not look any further a suitable match for you.” Legolas waited for her reaction, “What have you to say?” Laughter, anger, even an argument would have been better than the look she now gave him. Her freshly kissed lips turned to a frown as her eyes lowered to the floor, and her shoulders slumped dejectedly, “Lúta?” he asked worriedly.

“Legolas, we need to talk.”

“Has he found out about us … because if he has, then let me speak to him. It is my right to ask to properly court you and—”

Lúta touched his lips with nimble fingers, stopping him from saying anything more. A tear traced down her cheek as she tried to find the words, but there was no easy way to say it, “Legolas, my father is being sent to Helm’s Deep, he and many of the city’s blacksmiths.” She forced herself to look him in his eyes, “and our family will go with him. I’m leaving, Legolas. I’m sorry, but I must.”
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The Last Wood Elf