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Path of Honor-Part II: Far From Home	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4870 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. I make no money in the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter Two

Such vivid dreams I had. I was at home in my nice warm bed. Túron was sleeping next to me. I felt so relieved that he was back, though I didn’t know why. He shouldn’t be here, I thought. After everything that happened, he should be far from here. Raenor was still trying to find evidence of our relationship. If we were caught . . .
Túron rolled over, a sated smile upon those sumptuous ruby lips. “Good morning, lover.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” I said.
He kissed my cheek and my neck, moving to my chest and further down. I stretched luxuriously and allowed him to reign my body as his mouth surrounded me and . . .
Pain … shooting through my leg … white hot pain that brought me out of my slumber. My eyes were still heavy, and they wouldn’t open. Where was I? I couldn’t remember anything at first. The confusion was overwhelming. Last thing I remembered was orcs on the riverbank … arrows flying … slipping in a boat and—
“I don’t envy elf men,” said a familiar voice. “To wake up like that, and no way to alleviate it.”
“Oh, there are ways, Lady Corweth, though it is better not to wake up alone.” This was a new voice, a male, someone I did not know.
“And when was the last time my lord woke up alone with only his hand for company?” she teased.
“More times than I shall ever admit,” he said jovially.
“Wh- where am?” I asked, finding my vocal chords working again, though they felt dry. The room I was in was dark. Only a single candle lit the gray walls. Rock or stone from what I could tell. No windows, unless they were blocked out by curtains and it was nighttime.
“You are in the Healer’s Hall, Captain Rúmil.” I recognized the voice as that of Corweth. “Nasty wound you got there. No poison, you are very lucky. Evil bastard must not have had any on his arrow.”
“No poison? Then what is wrong with me?”
“Again, you did not heed our advice. You touched the water, and it cast its spell on you.”
“The water?” I was so confused, and it seemed as if Corweth was enjoying keeping me in this state.
“The river is enchanted,” said the male. His voice was like satin, rich and smooth, soft and tranquilizing. “When you touched it, the water put you under a sleeping spell.”
“I can’t see anything,” I said, a bit panicked. Either the spell hadn’t completely worn off, or there was permanent damage.
“Corweth, light a few more candles for the Captain,” said the ellon.
“Yes, my lord,” she answered.
The room brightened beyond my closed eyes. I strained to open them, and they slowly abided. Everything was blurry until I started to concentrate on focusing. Finally, I was able to see my surroundings. I seemed to be in a cave, but I had no idea where. I was in a bed, and there was a table next to me with a basin, a stack of clean folded rags, a jar of some sort, and a pitcher of water.
The ellon sitting at the foot of my bed had long straight hair the color of ripe wheat. His skin glowed with the light of Telperion. I could tell he had very ancient blood that tied him to the early days of elven existence. Upon his head sat a mithril circlet with a single teardrop shaped emerald in the center. He was of royalty, no doubt. “Forgive my ignorance, but are you King Thranduil?”
His eyes, which were of the truest shade of blue I’d ever seen, crinkled with mirth, and he lifted a finger to his lips to hide his laughter. “Ai, that I should be King one day. What do you think, Corweth?”
“A fine King you would make, your Grace,” she answered, but there was humor in her words. “But I do not see your father giving up the throne anytime soon.”
“How right you are. No, Captain, I’m afraid that title will go with my father when he sails, if he ever sails, and that is a very big if,” he said, and I knew who it was I was speaking with.
“Prince Legolas, I’m sorry I did not know you,” I apologized. The last thing I wanted to do was to piss off the King’s son.
“Corweth, will you give us a moment?” Legolas requested.
“Of course, my lord. I’ll let the Master Healer know the Captain is awake,” she said and bowed as she left the room.
Legolas studied me a moment before returning to our conversation. There was something very intriguing about the Prince. He was not at all what I expected, especially to hear him trade banter with Corweth. I guess I thought he would be more like his father, for I’d heard plenty of stories about the King, and none of them were about his sense of humor.
“Captain Rúmil,” he said slowly, letting my name roll off his tongue as though he was tasting it. “One of the Lórien Three. Your oldest brother is Haldir, March Warden of the Northern Border Guard. Your other brother is a Captain, like yourself. Orophin, I believe?”
“Yes, my lord,” I answered.
He put his hand up to stop me. “Please, no ‘my lord’ while we are alone. You may call me Legolas if it pleases you, but most have trouble calling me by my name only. So I tell them not to call me by any name, and speak as though we are friends. It seems to work. I never liked titles much anyways.”
“I will call you by your name if you call me by mine. ‘Captain’ is not necessary,” I said to make things even between us.
“I will do that … Rúmil,” he said again, only this time he didn’t savor it. “We’ve been expecting you. Corweth tells me you ran into a bit of trouble early on your journey through the Rhovanion.”
“I did, but I am here now. I need to speak to your father, the King. I’ve something very important to discuss with him.”
“About?” Legolas asked.
“About the rising number of orcs,” I said. I was given orders to speak with Thranduil, not his son.
“Well, that is nothing new to us. And as you saw for yourself, they are becoming more daring and closing in on our land.”
“And do you know of the growing orc army marching out of Dol Guldur?”
He gave a haughty smile. “Where else would they come from? Orcs have been oozing out of the dark tower for many years.”
“Perhaps if your father didn’t hide beneath his hill, and sent his armies out to push them back, they would not be such a problem as they are now.” There was a certain arrogance about him that made my ire build. If Thranduil was an oak tree, then Legolas was the acorn that did not fall far from him.
Legolas didn’t speak, but his eyes narrowed as he inspected me. He was trying to figure out where my thoughts were in all of this, but he didn’t have to think too hard. Finally, he spoke. “Why didn’t Haldir come this time?”
“We are at war in Lothlórien. He is busy commanding his troops,” I answered.
“And you are a Captain. Aren’t you needed with your regiment?”
“My brother Orophin can command both his and mine. But as you have pointed out, my time is valuable, and all I want is to deliver my message and be on my way.”
Legolas’ eyes traveled down my body, resting on my thigh where the arrow had bit me. “I don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon, not until you are well enough to travel. There will be plenty of time for you to meet with my father.” He looked to the table and noticed the empty glass. “Where are my manners? You must be thirsty. Let me pour you some water.” Legolas stood from my bed and went to the table, taking up the pitcher and glass. He filled it and handed it to me.
I drank deep and held it in my mouth to moisten my tongue and throat. And all the time, Legolas was watching me, studying my every move.
“Of whom do you dream about?” he asked out of nowhere.
I choked on my water. “Pardon?”
“Before you woke up, you were dreaming of someone. Your wife? Your betrothed?”
“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered. He was making me very uncomfortable, and I think he wanted it that way.
“Come now, Rúmil. An elf does not wake up with a cockstand because he was dreaming of sweet rolls or pipe weed.”
I gasped at his use of vulgarity, and at the fact that he had been watching. “I’m sorry, but Prince or no, I don’t wish to discuss my personal life with someone I have just met.”
He ignored me and went on with his investigation. “My guess is that you haven’t seen her in quite some time, but you still think about her. What happened? Did she smite you? Found you with another elleth? I must admit, you are a very handsome ellon. I imagine it is difficult for you to tie yourself to one person for very long.”
“You don’t know me at all if you think that,” I complained. Just who in Mordor did he think he was to ask me such blatant questions, and pry into my personal life? I started to sit up, but the sudden movement sent a shockwave of pain down my leg. I winced and fell back into my pillows.
“Alright, keep your secrets. Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll stop … for now.” Legolas came around to the foot of my bed. “I thought you might be different from your brother, but I see you are just as stuffy as he is. Must be like that with all Lothlórien elves.”
“And you have less manners than I would expect from royalty. Must be like that with all Wood elves,” I mocked.
Legolas’ eyes turned to slits, and for a moment I thought he might call for his guards to come and drag me to the cells. But then the corner of his mouth quirked into a devious smile, as if to say the game was on. “I like you, Rúmil. You’ve got moxie. At least in that way you are different from Haldir. I look forward to speaking with you again.” He went to the door and stepped into the hallway. “The healer will be here shortly. Get your rest. You’ll need it.”
My jaw unclenched when he left. I’d been biting my tongue, trying not to unleash my anger on him. “Damn Wood elves,” I mumbled to myself. “If he wants moxie, I’ll show him moxie.”
* * * * *
Bed rest for a day, I was told by the healer. I argued with him to at least allow me to move about my room, but I was denied. So now what was I to do, trapped in a room with no windows, buried beneath the ground in a cave, surrounded by reckless Wood elves who seemed to have no concerns about the world outside? I couldn’t even disobey the healer’s orders. My clothes were gone, and I was left with nothing but a white patient gown that was much to sheer to be seen in. At least I had my bow, which was leaning against the wall in the corner of my room. Not that it would do me much good, but it was a comfort, something familiar, something from home.
I laid there the first day, sulking, my only visitor the healer that checked my wound and changed my bandages. I didn’t even know her name, and she did not speak to me. Perhaps she was ordered not to, or perhaps she was like all the rest, not fond of a Lothlórien elf. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to speak with the King and be gone from this place. I missed the trees and the clean air of Caras Galadhon. I missed the mallorns and the lanterns that lit my home, like a million stars beneath the boughs. It took me too long to get to Mirkwood, and it was taking me too long to leave. I felt my impatience growing by the hour.
The next day, the healer finally spoke to me. She told me I could walk around my room and along the main corridor of the Healing Hall, but nowhere else. I smiled, glad for anything more than lying in my bed. My first time up, the healer helped me since I was a bit wobbly on my feet. It didn’t take me long to figure out how much pressure I could put on my injured leg, and I was fine to walk alone. With other patients to attend to, the healer left and I ventured down the long hall.
There were alcoves on both sides, some with a door and some with just a curtain, patient rooms. The hall itself was like a tunnel, and it literally was, since it was underground. Torches lit the hallway, one by each door. Most doors or curtains were closed, a patient inside being tended by the many healers of Mirkwood. It was not a very nice place to be, and a bit depressing at that. The muffled moans and wails of the injured came through. Soldiers, I guessed, come home by some miracle that they were not spun in webbing and saved for a later meal. I remembered the orc and shuddered.
Why did they live like this? Why didn’t they flee to another land where they wouldn’t have to endure the darkness? They didn’t fight for anything but the protection of the King’s precious halls, filled with rich treasures. They wouldn’t march out and meet the enemy, to strike out and push back, and reclaim the land that was rightfully theirs. Instead, they stayed hidden away, under the ground, living in darkness and gloom, breathing stale air, cramped together like a herd of cattle.
There was a commotion happening at the far end of the hall. Two elves brought in a third on a litter. I was pushed to the side as the woman who tended my leg rushed past and directed them into the nearest free room. I hobbled down the hall to see what was happening. I was a soldier, and I knew what battle wounds looked like. I knew the frame of mind that an injured soldier was in. Perhaps I could help in some way.
I stood in the open doorway, and watched as the two healthy elves took the injured elf by the arms and held him down. The healer stuck a thick piece of leather in her patient’s mouth, and she grabbed a saw. They were going to cut his leg off, but why? Though elves sustained injuries like any other race in the world, we had the advantage of rapid healing. What could be so bad that they would take his leg? And that’s when the healer threw the bandages from the injured leg. Like I said, I’ve seen the worst kinds of wounds before, but this was something altogether new to me. There was no gash from a sword or an axe. There was nothing but blood and white ooze, and the shinbone exposed. I’d never seen what a spider the size of a large dog could do to flesh, and it shocked me. It had melted through skin and muscle, and it was beginning to deteriorate the bone itself.
“Please, no,” the injured elf was crying out. “Don’t take my leg.”
“I have to. The poison has left nothing for me to save. If I don’t cut it off, it will keep consuming the rest of your leg and you will die,” the healer explained. She looked at the two elves holding their fellow soldier down, and nodded. The elves tightened their grip on him, and secured the leather bit. The healer brought the saw to the injury and moved it up until it was clear of the wound, just above the knee. Then she started cutting as though sawing through a log. The injured elf screamed in agony, a sound I would not soon forget. His eyes bulged from their sockets. Sweat poured down his face, and he screamed until the pain was so terrible that he could not take it anymore, and went unconscious.
“The spiders, they bite,” said a smooth voice from behind. I turned and found Prince Legolas standing behind me. “It is the worst thing that could happen to someone, to have been bitten by one of Shelob’s children. This is how they kill. They bite and scurry off. Then they wait for the poison to burn away flesh and bone, turning it to a gelatinous goo. The victim is then consumed by the spiders, a quick meal easy to consume. This elf was lucky that he was found right away and brought to the healers.”
“His leg was not lucky,” I pointed out. The healer was half way through the bone. It was a messy business taking a leg.
“Better to have half a leg than no life, no soul … bound for Mandos,” Legolas replied as though he were a thousand miles from here. “It’s a different kind of war we are fighting here, Captain. We’re not just protecting our borders. It’s too late for that. Now we are protecting the last of what we have, our home and lives.”
“We fight for the same thing in Lothlórien, only we go out and meet our enemy, not just hold them back,” I said, regretting my words. But it was true.
Legolas gave me the same look he gave me before, the one where I couldn’t be sure whether he would berate me or not. He just stood there, blue eyes blazing, staring in a way that made me feel vulnerable and open to him. I didn’t like it one bit. Finally he looked down at my patient robe. “I see they let you out of bed. You must be on the mend,” he observed, ignoring my last comment.
“I am, and soon I would request that meeting with your father,” I demanded.
“Would you like to go now?” he asked, surprising me.
I wanted nothing more than to go now, but it took every ounce of energy I had just to walk to the end of the hall without putting too much pressure on my leg. I got the feeling that Legolas knew this and he was toying with me. “I’ve been ordered to stay within the Healing Hall for the next couple days.”
He leaned into my ear and whispered, “And when have you ever followed the rules with such strict observance?” He stood straight again, a cunning smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Very well, Captain. A couple days and you’ll have your meeting. In the meantime, I do hope to get to know you better. I can’t help but feel we have more in common than one might think.”
I watched as Legolas entered the room where the poor elf lay trembling and bleeding on a table. The healer was too busy tending to the amputated leg to calm the elf. Legolas bent down and spoke with that cool, soothing voice. He could calm a herd of rutting stags with just a few words, I thought to myself. At the moment, he was keeping the injured elf from going any further into shock. The elf’s eyes lifted and looked directly into those of the Prince, as Legolas spoke of green leaves and warm winds of summer. The elf on the table stopped shaking and relaxed at the sound of the Prince’s voice, and I myself couldn’t help but envision the summer days of my youth, wishing I could go back there right now. And I found that I rather wished I could take Legolas with me, and show him what it was like to enjoy a Lothlórien summer. As he spoke to the elf, he turned his head to the side, and his brilliant eyes caught mine, as though he had heard my thoughts and agreed to my invitation. I shook myself from this odd trance and left, going back to my room where I could rest, but I couldn’t get the sight of those blue eyes out of my thoughts.
* * * * *
Two more days gone. Two more days that I was still in Mirkwood and not returning to my home. It had taken me three weeks to get here in the first place. It would take me at least that to get back. Now, I was tacking on the days that I sat in this place, waiting for an audience with the Elven King. I wondered what might be happening in Lórien. Had they marched back to the borders yet? And if they had, how were my men adjusting to Orophin as their new Captain? I knew he would take great care of my archer regiment, but that did not mean they would be clear of any dangers.
There was a knock at my door, and Corweth entered, her judgmental eyes leering at me. I smiled quite arrogantly and welcomed her in. “My, don’t you look radiant today,” I said smugly.
She ignored me as usual. “The Prince has sent for you. I’m to take you to him.”
I practically jumped from the bed, and realized I was still in my patient robes. “Might I get dressed before–”
She set my folded, cleaned, and newly repaired clothes at the foot of the bed. “I’ll be outside your door,” she informed me, and left.
I hurried to get dressed, grabbed my bow and stepped out. Corweth was there, leaning against the wall, looking quite irritated. “Am I finally going to have my meeting with your King?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and blinked slowly. “I wasn’t sent here by the King. Prince Legolas told me to retrieve you, and that is my order.”
“Well, will he be escorting me to the King’s Hall then?”
“You’ll have to ask the Prince,” she responded dryly. I was getting nothing from Corweth.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” I said after we started walking.
“You’re pompous. You think you are above others, especially Wood elves. And you treat me as if I am your servant.”
I looked over my shoulder to her. “Don’t hold anything back.”
“Speak like that to the King and you’ll be left on your own to get out of the Rhovanion,” she warned.
“And unless your King gives serious consideration to what I have to say, no one will get out of this cursed forest alive,” I countered with my own warning.
Corweth gave me a steely glare, but I could see she was considering my words. It was not the first time she’d thought about her home and her safety, and her twin sister’s at that.
We left the Healer’s Hall, and entered into what looked like the central point of the entire underground system. It was enormously spacious, with multiple levels, stairs, stone bridges, doorways and hallways leading off into all directions. I was reminded of ants all of a sudden. Elves rushed here and there, disappearing into one darkened doorway, and emerging from another further down. It was actually quite beautiful to look at. An entire city was carved beneath the earth, hidden away where no one could see what went on under the hill in the north of the Rhovanion. Still, as magnificent as it seemed, I couldn’t help but feel trapped here. Should the main gates be breached, where would they all go? Where was another way out? My soldier’s instincts took over, and I could imagine the enemy finding these escape doors and hatches, hiding in wait while the orcs stormed the main entrance, burning everything as they went. The smoke would kill most. The orcs would kill the rest. And when the air cleared, the black army would claim Mirkwood as their own. With Dol Guldur in the south, and Mirkwood in the north, they would look to the west … Lothlórien. The Rhovanion and the Golden Woods would be their breeding grounds, and their army would increase tenfold.
“Captain Rúmil!” Corweth shouted. How long had she been calling to me?
“Oh … yes … I’m sorry, you were saying?” I stammered, never hearing a word she said.
She lifted her hand, palm facing upwards, and gestured towards Prince Legolas.
“You seem troubled, Captain. Are you feeling well?”
“Fine … my lord … just fine.”
He bowed to Corweth and gave a smile. “I’ll take our guest from here. Thank you Corweth.”
She returned a bow, and gave me a final glare. Legolas noticed, and when she was gone, he laughed quietly. “You know how to charm a lady, don’t you?”
“I do, my lord, but she is no lady.”
He laughed heartily at that and grasped my shoulder. “I like you more with every comment you make, Captain Rúmil. I should like to share in a meal and a bottle of wine with you later.”
“Well, my lord–”
“I thought I said no titles,” he whispered.
“You said no titles while we were speaking in private. And besides, you have addressed me as Captain. I’ll not disrespect your position as long as you specify my title,” I reminded him.
“Then we shall dine informally,” he insisted.
“I would like that. However, after I speak with your father, I was hoping to start out for home. I’ve been here more days than I care to be … uh … militarily speaking, of course.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but you will not be able to leave until the morning. No one travels the woods at night. So it seems you are stuck with us for one more day.” He seemed to enjoy my torture, as he smiled.
“Very well. Then I look forward to food, wine and conversation tonight. Now, if you don’t mind . . .”
“Of course, Captain. This way.” He gestured to a set of stairs that led to one of the stone bridges. It ended at a dais with an exaggerated throne carved from wood. The seat and back were lined with red, and plush for the King’s comfort. It was a very wide chair. Two people could sit comfortably upon it.
“I was hoping to speak with him privately,” I mentioned before we climbed the stairs.
“Oh, and you will, but my father is in a meeting with some of his captains at the moment. I thought I would give you a tour while we wait. Are you well enough to walk?” he asked politely.
“I get a twinge every once in a while, but I am healed for the most part.” It would actually ease some of the tension I’d built up over meeting with King Thranduil. And I wanted to see more of this underground palace.
It was a very confusing place for an outsider. Legolas and I would climb a set of stairs or cross a bridge, and enter into a dark corridor, only to come out on the other side to a room full of light. That room might have two or three corridors leading from it, and who knew where they went. Sometimes we would enter a hall and come out in the same room, but on the opposite side. If the Prince meant to bewilder me, then he was doing a damn fine job of it.
I saw dining halls, dance halls, laundry rooms and kitchens. There were guest rooms of every kind, and most looked like they hadn’t been occupied in a long time. Mirkwood did not get many visitors, and no one uninvited was allowed to pass beyond the river. I was told that my own guest quarter was ready for me. I actually wished that I could stay in my patient room. At least there was always someone around. The guest area seemed abandoned.
My thoughts of the Healing Halls made me think about the poor elf brought in with the leg injury, and I mentioned this much to Legolas. “How is he?” I inquired.
“He is doing much better, but he will have to undergo another surgery, and then learn to walk with the aid of crutches. Unfortunately, he’ll never fight again,” he said sadly.
“You were very good with him. A sign of a good leader is to have time for his men on a personal level.”
“Ai, so I’ve been taught. I help where I can.” He seemed distant as we discussed his troops.
“You must be a great comfort to your troops on the battlefield.” My comment affected Legolas, as he shied away from the conversation. “Do you not fight alongside your men?”
We turned another corner and found ourselves in a library. I was actually surprised that Thranduil had one. I couldn’t picture him being an elf with a love of the written word. And all the while, Legolas remained silent. I thought I might have overstepped some boundary, but once we were alone in the library, he opened up to me.
“I fought and trained beside many of the elves that go out there every day. And before the darkness spread, I marched into many battles with them. I want nothing more than to be next to them now.” He turned from me, and ran a finger along the edge of one of the bookcases. “My father will not allow it … for now at least. The risk is too high. You see, I am his only heir. Should something happen to him, I must take over the throne and lead our people to victory.”
“Pardon me, Prince Legolas, but I have heard many stories of your superb archery. No one even comes close to your talent,” I said as a sincere compliment.
He glanced over his shoulder, giving me a half smile. “I thank you, Rúmil. Tis been a very long while since I’ve been reminded of that. I almost forget.”
“A soldier never forgets how to use his weapon, no matter how long it’s been,” I assured him.
Something changed between us, and I could almost hear his blood pumping faster through his veins. We were completely alone, and Legolas shed his royal demeanor for something more relaxed and wanton. There was a dangerous flicker in his eyes.
“And just how long has it been, Rúmil?” he asked, head cocked to the side and his long wheat colored hair spilling over his shoulder.
“Since I fired my weapon?” I said, playing dumb.
“Since you’ve fired anything … your weapon, your cock. I’m not picky as to where this conversation goes.” His satiny voice captured me unexpectedly.
“That’s a bit brash, don’t you think?” I complained. He was very good at the seduction game. I was just surprised that he wanted to seduce me.
“You don’t fool me. I know what you are.”
“And what is that?” I was treading a perilous line.
“You are a risk taker. Your spirit is wild, but you contain it most brilliantly. Still, I can feel something emanating from you, a need for freedom to explore this part of you that you keep isolated.” As he spoke, he came closer to me. I scented his aura, a curious mixture of summer grasses and the fresh winds that swept over them. There was also a feral note intertwined within it, something purely Wood elf. “You hold yourself high like any Lórien elf might do. You are educated, well bred. But this aloofness that you are displaying is not a natural part of your character. It only exists with the visible aspect of your personality, not the internal.”
He was mentally striping me of that in which I hid from everyone, and he was succeeding. “And here we are in private, discussing my character. I’d say you hide it just as well as any Lórien elf,” I said with a smirk.
“I only speak in private for your benefit, not for mine. You’ve been raised to hide that which comes naturally to you. I have not. Wood elves do not smote the flames that burn within. It is our fire that makes us fierce. And it is your fire that I see burning brighter than any other, but it is contained … trapped deep inside you, nothing more than a flame. But if you were to stoke that fire, let it burn white hot . . .” He paused and gave a deep indecorous laugh. “Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you are not that different from a Wood elf.”
He had me almost ready to release that fire, but I reached far back into my training, to that which I protected most, and let my ire rise in order to cover the truth. “I am nothing like the Wood elves, I assure you of that,” I said defiantly. “I might hide parts of my personal life to keep my secret, but I do it for a good cause. There are very strict rules in the Lórien army that ban what I believe you are suggesting and–”
“Yes, your biggest downfall,” he interrupted. He moved even closer to me, and his cunning smile flashed in my direction. “Soldiers are men only, and men shall not fraternize with one another because it would be … distracting. I disagree with that way of thinking,” he noted. He was standing behind me, and I did not move a muscle.
“It is a rule that I must uphold, no matter my circumstances.”
“But you easily admit that you are inclined to admire the male form,” he said. His breath touched the back of my neck. “Curious how you have no trouble revealing yourself to me.”
“I appreciate many forms. It doesn’t mean I act on my admiration for them.”
I felt his hand lift the hair from my neck. “I guess my next question is … do you want to act upon it?”
I took a step forward and turned to face him. “Are you suggesting that you and I –”
“Since you have brought it up.” His eyes traveled down his own form, settling on his lower region. I understood the innuendo.
“I don’t think that would be … appropriate,” I answered nervously. I could not deny that Legolas was an alluring creature. There were many aspects to his beauty besides his looks. He was bold, unafraid to acknowledge his wants and needs, though I was unsure whether he was used to being denied them. He was honest with himself as well as others, but he had that luxury, didn’t he? I wondered at what life might be like in Mirkwood, where there were no rules against elves of my situation within their army. It didn’t seem to make them any less a soldier. They weren’t rutting like beasts, ignoring any threats from the outside.
But then, the Wood elves would not venture out too far to confront the enemy. They’d been pushed, herded almost, until they were contained to their underground palace. I was reminded of a turtle that sunk into its shell, waiting for the danger to pass before he would come out again. I was sure that the jaw of our enemy was strong enough to crush that shell, and I was reminded of my mission and why I was in Mirkwood in the first place.
“Would you please take me to see your father now? It’s been long enough. I’m sure his meeting is finished.”
“Will you still dine with me tonight, Rúmil? I do enjoy your company,” he asked sincerely.
“I cannot refuse the Prince of Mirkwood, now can I?”
“Well, you could, but it would not bode well for you.”
I couldn’t help a smile escaping the corner of my mouth. He was a charmer to be sure, and I liked playing his game. “Then I accept your invitation wholeheartedly.”
We left the library and made our way along more corridors and a bridge, where we finally came to the King’s meeting chamber, reserved for private audiences only. We entered the room, decorated with detailed tapestries of past battles. Hanging in the center of the room was a candlelight chandelier made from multiple deer antlers. And on a chair near the hearth was a throw made of rabbit pelts. On the floor before the hearth was a bearskin rug, the head still attached and staring towards the door, mouth open, and bearing its canine teeth in a perpetual roar. And on the other side of the room was a long table made of thick wood, carved with leaf patterns that represented the many beech trees that grew within Mirkwood.
I was a bit shocked to see the antlers and animal skins. I’d never known any elves to keep trophies such as these. Legolas must have seen me observing the bear rug in particular. He commented right away. “Nothing is killed for sport, I assure you.”
“I’m sure it is not,” I smiled skeptically. “In Lothlórien, we have better uses for animal hides besides decorating the floor. We would make clothes or boots out of them.”
“Here, the spiders would scent the furs easily,” he said. I could see his point.
I walked around the room, admiring the tapestries. One in particular caught my attention. “The Battle of the Five Armies?” I wondered aloud.
“Yes it is. And this one over here is the Battle of Dagorlad,” he said with pride. “My father and grandfather fought in that war. Only my father returned.”
“It is said that your grandfather fought bravely.” I knew the story well. Oropher was very stubborn and set in his ways. In the first assault on Mordor, he charged into battle before Gil-galad gave the command to do so. It cost Oropher his life, as well as two thirds of his army.
“He was brave and strong, but he was hasty. Had he waited for his orders, there would have been more elves on the battlefield. His life might have been spared.”
“Is it not the way of the Wood elves, to rush headlong into battle?” I asked.
“You make it sound as though we run amuck without any sense of direction or strategy. My grandfather gave his life for the cause.”
“Gil-galad commanded the armies, not Oropher. When your grandfather charged into Mordor, he did so without orders,” I argued. “Had he waited for–”
“We wait for no one,” Legolas responded, clearly irritated by my statement. “And no one commands a Wood elf besides his King.”
I stepped away from the Prince, and spoke before realizing what I’d said. “And you are a prime example of this, otherwise you would be out there fighting alongside your people.”
I was positive that I was going to be sent to the cells this time. I don’t know what came over me when I got into these discussions with the Prince, but it was as if I wanted to raise his dander and test him. It angered me that he was such a remarkable talent, but he was being held back, locked away like one of his father’s precious jewels. I began to wonder if Haldir made the right decision by sending me here. If he thought I would be able to get through to the King, he might end up disappointed.
Legolas’ brows had creased together, and his eyes had turned to dagger-filled slits. I thought it was safe to assume that our dinner arrangements were canceled. All fine and well with me. I’d deliver my message to King Thranduil, tell him it was his duty to join in an attack upon Dol Guldur, and whatever else we might discuss, and in the morning, I’d be on my way back to Lothlórien.
I waited for Legolas to respond to my unwise statement. He glared at me, and I did not back down or look away. Just when it seemed he was about to say something, there came a knock on the door. Both of us turned to look, and Legolas beckoned the visitor in. It was a messenger, sent by the King.
“Prince Legolas, your father has sent me to inform you of his whereabouts,” the messenger said.
“Why? Where is the King?”
“He has decided it would be best for him to respond to a few situations in person. He said not to expect him to return for several more days. You are to rule in his absence.”
I stepped forward and addressed the messenger. “But I’ve requested an audience with your King. We were to meet here.”
The messenger, a slight elf with long auburn hair, smiled arrogantly, and gave a bow of his head in my direction. “Captain Rúmil of Lothlórien, I presume. I’m sure His Grace will apologize for any inconvenience he has caused. If you must return to Lothlórien, I’m sure you may do so tomorrow morning.”
“However,” Legolas interrupted suddenly. “If he wishes to wait, he is more than welcome to stay as my guest, and I shall see to it that he has everything he needs to make himself comfortable.” He turned to me, hands folded behind his back, taking his new role as ruler seriously. “But the Captain has voiced his concern about the length of his stay already, and he is anxious to return home,” said Legolas speaking for me as though I wasn’t in the room. He knew how badly I wanted to leave, and after our small disagreement, I was sure he was glad to see me go. But I was not about to be forced out.
“Shall I prepare your departure for tomorrow morning, Captain?” the messenger asked.
I could stay, wait for the King to return, take a chance that he would refuse to do his part in this war, and waste a week in which I could have been traveling back home. Or, I could finally get out of this forsaken place. Haldir would not be pleased. No doubt, if he were in this situation, he would stay. He would say I did not try hard enough, and he’d be right. No, I couldn’t leave, not yet. I never did anything half-arsed, and no pretty blue-eyed Prince would chase me away.
“I’ll be staying until I speak with the King,” I firmly told the messenger. I could feel Legolas’ eyes upon me, and they were not looking upon me with kindness.
“Escort Captain Rúmil to the guest quarters, and see that a meal is sent to his room,” Legolas commanded, and then in a hushed whisper he added, “I doubt he will want to dine with us heathens.”
I left with the messenger and did not look back. I smiled to myself, though. I guess no one had ever stood up to the Prince before, and I knew he would not have been so angry if he didn’t already think that I was right about his father holding him back. Deep down, he knew this. He knew his talent was being wasted, sitting beneath the ground day after day while his friends risked their lives. I may have to live two separate lives and hide my secret, but at least I was not being held back from doing what I loved most. The same could not be said for Legolas. He had the freedom of living without fear of discovery, but he was burdened by his royal blood when it came to fighting. I guess he was right to say that we had a lot more in common than we thought.
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Path of Honor-Part II: Far From Home