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Greenleaf & Imladris 7 - Forbidden Fruit	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 3382 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 2
- 3
- 4
Part III

The gardens behind the royal pavilion rang with shouts of encouragement and laughter. An impromptu archery contest had been set up amongst Elladan, Elrohir, Heledir, the warrior maid, Tathariel and a few others. Legolas had been sternly ordered to stay on the sidelines.

“It is no contest when you compete,” Elladan pointed out. “You will only outstrip us all.”

“Nay, you rate my skill too highly,” Legolas protested. “There are far better archers than myself.”

“If there are, I do not see them here,” retorted Elladan. “We will be fair about this, gwador.”—sworn brother. “You will not compete!”

The Rivendell twins had then proceeded to belie their claims of lack of skill. By the end of the contest they had proven their mastery. True to form, they accepted the approbation of the spectators with many a mock bow, which only drew more applause and mirth.

From the windows of his study, Thranduil observed them with some relief. At least, they were not indulging in some stomach-churning prank this golden morn. Since their arrival, they had already pulled off more than he could swallow with grace. Any more and he would be hard pressed to maintain his dignity as a king. He gestured to his companion to join him at the window. Beldoron came up beside him.

“Your son is very much a part of their circle,” the king said indulgently. “That should gladden your heart.”

“Yes, majesty,” Beldoron replied. “It is good to see that he will not be alone when I depart.”

Thranduil sighed. “You are determined to leave for the Havens then?”

His counsellor turned sad eyes on him. "'Tis not the same since my wife left this life. I feel weary, sire, and long for some solace in the West. And mayhap we will be reunited soon should the Powers grant it.”

Thranduil nodded. “I understand. You are fortunate, my friend, that you have the liberty to go when you will. If I had a choice, I, too, would depart this lands and seek my wife in Eldamar.”

“Is Prince Melthoron not ready for the throne, hîr nîn?”—my lord?—Beldoron queried.

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. “Melthoron is too much my father’s grandson. Ill-tempered and full of pride,” the king said. “Brethildor is not much better. He is good-natured but cares little for the running of this kingdom. He is a warrior first and foremost.“ He glanced at his advisor and grimaced. “There are times I think it a pity that Legolas is not my firstborn and heir. He has grown in stature and wisdom and is beloved of the people.” He frowned suddenly. “I have spoken too freely,” he said. He wagged a finger at the other Elf. “I trust you will not divulge this to anyone, old friend.”

Beldoron smiled and said reassuringly, “Your sentiments are safe with me, aran nîn.”—my king. “I, too, worry about the welfare of this realm.”

After the counsellor had taken his leave, the king turned to the window once more. He saw his youngest son now take up his knife to spar with Elrohir. Paternal pride filled him as he watched Legolas move with lethal grace and deadly skill. Parrying, thrusting, stroke and counterstroke. It was a joy to observe him and Elrohir as they matched each other. That was when he noticed Sirgon.

It was the intent stare of the young Elf that drew the king’s attention. A stare that focused on the prince with singular concentration. Thranduil frowned. There was something about the look in Sirgon’s eyes. Admiration there was, of course, and the encouragement of a friend. But what else was there?

He looked at the other spectators. They were mostly male but there were several Elf-women scattered among them. Naturally, they were not so much interested in the match as they were in the combatants. Adoring eyes alighted on either the golden-maned prince or the raven-haired lord. And a few gazed upon them with more than just adoration. Desire was in their eyes either for one or the other.

That was when it struck Thranduil. It was not unlike what he had seen in Sirgon’s unwavering stare. Only that stare was not leveled at some fair maid but at Legolas! The King mentally recoiled at the thought.

By Elbereth, what is Sirgon thinking?

In Rivendell, Lothlórien and the Grey Havens, where lords of Eldarin persuasion ruled, the ancient ways thrived. Elves’ preferences were of no consequence and some ultimately chose their own kind to mate with. Such passions were intrinsic to elven nature after all. Indeed, life-long relationships of Edhil of the same kind were sanctified in ritual bindings and were considered as true as unions between Elf-males and Elf-maids.

But Mirkwood was a bastion of Silvan culture though its ruling family was of the Sindar. As such, Thranduil was of a more constrained bent of mind, as were his people. He did not doubt that there were pockets of those who had different passions from the rest of the population and he certainly did not forbid their choices. But at least, they are discreet and do not flaunt their desires as this Elf does, the Elvenking thought indignantly. And for my own son yet!

His first impulse was to have Sirgon brought to him that he might question him. But then the king remembered that Sirgon’s father was leaving Mirkwood within the week. Beldoron had been so relieved that his son was among friends and would not be alone.

Thranduil scowled. Suspicious he may be about Sirgon’s intentions but he had a great regard for Beldoron and did not want to distress his erstwhile counsellor. I will speak with Legolas about this after Beldoron leaves, he decided. Surely, nothing can possibly happen in such a short period of time.

Could Thranduil have foreseen the events to come he might have changed his mind and bundled Sirgon off to the fastness of Lothlorien within the hour. Unfortunately, the foresight of the Firstborn is not always absolute and even then events have a way of overtaking one’s best efforts.

Three afternoons later, Sirgon found himself luxuriating in a rare stroll with Legolas. He had not had the chance to be alone with the prince since the twins’ arrival and he now made the most of it. They were in the woods behind the royal stables, following the long path that cut through the forest to one of the tributary streams of the Forest River.

They said little, content to just make their way among the ancient trees, enjoying the warm sun for here the forest was not so close. Sirgon could not help glancing frequently at his companion though, mesmerized as he was by his uncommon beauty. He did so surreptitiously so as not to attract the other’s notice. He was therefore taken aback when Legolas suddenly gazed at him, curiosity in his sapphire eyes.

“You keep looking at me,” the archer commented. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sirgon faltered. “I-that is to say—“ he stammered.

He was saved from making any further attempts at replying when they heard a great shout followed by the sounds of something crashing through the brush. Before either Elf could move, two figures burst from the thick greenery and collided with them.

Stunned, Legolas found himself on his back with Elrohir atop him while to his side, Sirgon was entangled with Elladan. The twins, in turn, stared at their unintentional victims with surprise. In the distance, the sound of furious neighing could be discerned.

“Geheno nin, Calenlassen!” Elrohir gasped as he tried to extricate himself from his friend. Forgive me, my Greenleaf!

Sirgon felt a stab of intense jealousy upon hearing the twin’s use of such an affectionate, not to mention intimate, endearment with the prince. He thrust Elladan off himself with startling vehemence. Quickly rising, he turned and grasped Elrohir by the arm. As the Elvenlord was already rising to his feet, it was with surprise that he felt Sirgon’s tight grip on his arm and even greater shock when the former forcefully yanked him off Legolas. His sharp, “Get off him!” was all that was needed to render everyone momentarily speechless with bafflement.

Legolas wondered at his friend’s temper as the latter pulled him up. But before he could speak, Sirgon turned on Elrohir in fury. “You could have hurt him!” he snapped. “Ever have you and your brother cared only for your own pleasures without regard for others!”

“Hold, Sirgon!” Elrohir said angrily. "'Twas an accident. You have no right to speak to us so!”

“Oh no? What were you doing that you should stray from the path? Up to mischief again, no doubt!”

Elladan spoke up coldly. “Watch your manners, Elf. Common courtesy requires that you allow us to speak in our defense!”

Sirgon swiftly turned to him, scathing words ready to issue from his lips. But Legolas quickly got between the two, pushing them away from each other.

“Enough!” he exclaimed, bewildered by the sudden hostility. He turned to Sirgon with a frown. “Elrohir is right. ‘Twas but an accident. No one was hurt, least of all myself. There is no need to be so upset.”

Sirgon mutinously pursed his lips. “You would take their part,” he responded hotly. “And why not? After all, I am just the son of a mere counsellor!”

He turned on his heel and walked rapidly away leaving the others to stare after him in bemusement.

“What ails him?” Elrohir commented. “He even turned on you, Legolas, and that is not a thing I would have expected him to do.”

“I do not know,” Legolas answered. “He has been troubled of late but he has not confided his problem to me.” He looked at the twins. “What were you doing off the path?”

Elladan sighed. “We heard of the new stallion your father purchased and were told that it roams the woods at will. We tracked it to see for ourselves if ‘tis as magnificent as word has it.”

Elrohir took up the tale. “We found it near the stream and attempted to come as near to it as we could. ‘Twas then that we discovered why ‘tis still unbroken. I had not imagined that there were any horses that would not cooperate with an Elf!”

“In other words, it chased you here,” Legolas grinned.

“We barely got out of its way as it is,” Elladan said.

"'Tis hardly our fault that you and Sirgon got in ours!” Elrohir added. “I have never seen him so angry and for so petty a reason.”

Legolas nodded, his grin fading. “Yes, it is strange. I cannot fathom what is wrong.”

Elladan was about to say something when he suddenly stopped, an expression of surprised enlightenment on his face.

“And what ails you, muindor?”—brother?—Elrohir asked, noticing his twin’s reaction.

“I just realized what may be troubling Sirgon,” Elladan answered thoughtfully. “Legolas, I believe he is jealous!”

“Jealous?” Legolas stared at him. “Of whom?”

“Elrohir and me,” Elladan replied. “Have you not noticed of late how he regards us? I would wager that he wishes we would end our stay here and leave Mirkwood soonest.”

“But why?” Elrohir demanded. “What have we done to gain his rancor?”

“Not what we have done but what we have not done.” He glanced at Legolas. “We have not given him the chance to be with you as much as he would like, I think.”

Legolas was surprised but after considering the matter, he nodded in agreement. “Aye, that is so. Since his return from Lothlórien, I have kept him close by my side to make him feel welcome. But your coming has altered that and I have scarcely been with him these past many weeks.”

Elrohir frowned. "'Tis not as if he will not have you to himself when we leave, Legolas. There is no need for him to be hostile.” He was still smarting at Sirgon’s rough handling.

Legolas clasped a soothing hand on the younger twin’s shoulder. “There is no need,” he agreed. “I will speak with him about the matter.” They heard once more a wild neighing, much closer than it had been before. Legolas chuckled. “Come, we had best head back before my father’s esteemed stallion decides to continue its game with you!”

But it was not until a few days later that Legolas got his chance to talk to Sirgon. The following dawn found the prince with Elladan as they stalked the stallion, a beautiful chestnut beast. The animal had gone to the stream for a drink and this was where the two Elves found it. They crouched in the thick brush observing it with some apprehension.

Neither noticed the dark figure in the trees watching them in turn. There was no need to be on guard in these parts for the woods behind Thranduil’s halls were well secured against evil from without. Sirgon silently observed the two, wondering what they planned to do, envious of Elladan’s proximity to Legolas and hurt that he had not been asked to join them.

For their part, the two Elves were wondering about the stallion’s surprising independence. It was rare for a horse to resist the beguilement of the Elves. For some reason, this one had. No one had ridden it yet, not even the king. And it had repeatedly tried to break out of the stables upon its arrival. Whereupon Thranduil had ordered it to be set loose so that it would not do injury to itself. It roamed the forest behind the palace, hemmed in only by enchantment and the vigilance of the Mirkwood guards.

“I do not know why I let you talk me into this,” Legolas groused.

“Because you could never turn down a chance at adventure, ernil daur?”—forest prince?—Elladan whispered.

Legolas scowled at him. “If we end up in the house of healing again, my father will flay us alive.”

“I have heard that threat so many times I almost wish he would just carry it out and be done with it.”

“How is it that Elrohir had more sense than you today and refused to get out of bed?”

“Elrohir had a late night, if you must know. A very late night with one of his maidenly admirers.”

“Hush!”

The stallion was done with its drink and was headed their way. The two Elves tensed as it suddenly halted, whinnying softly as if it sensed something was not right. It began to toss its head, eyes darting around as if looking for something.

“Move,” Legolas whispered urgently. “I do not like the look in its eyes.”

They silently crept away as quickly as possibly, Elladan somewhat ahead of Legolas.

But just as it seemed that they would get away unscathed, the horse reared up, snorting angrily. With terrible suddenness, it plunged forward and broke into a gallop heading straight at Legolas.

Legolas knew that he would never be able to outrun the stallion, not when it was bearing down on him so quickly. Scrambling to his feet, he turned to face it instead.

“Legolas!” Elladan shouted in dismay. What was his friend doing?

A short distance behind him, Sirgon had jumped to his feet, his heart pounding with fear. He began to plunge through the brush, wanting to protect Legolas but not quite knowing what he could do.

At the last possible moment before the horse could run him down, the prince jumped to one side, grasped it by its mane and vaulted onto its back. Immediately, it began to buck. Legolas gritted his teeth and hung on for dear life.

Sirgon stared in astonishment. Even in his fear he had not failed to notice the startling grace of Legolas’ movements in mounting the horse. It filled him with awe, as did the prince’s strength and determination that kept him astride the animal when all others would have been thrown off. The feeling of wanting grew ever stronger within him.

Just when Legolas thought he could hold on no longer, the horse stopped. Surprised, the prince looked down at the suddenly quiescent beast then glanced up at a stunned Elladan. Afraid he would be noticed, Sirgon quickly hid himself once more.

Warily, Legolas dismounted, half expecting the animal to go wild once more and therefore readied himself for flight. But instead the stallion turned its head toward him and gently whinnied. Disbelievingly, Legolas reached out in wonder and stroked its noble face and neck. The horse nuzzled his hand with its nose.

Elladan stared at them in amazement. With understandable hesitation, he neared them. But the stallion did not flinch at his approach and simply contented itself with being stroked by the prince.

“How did you do that?” Elladan asked in a hushed voice. He raised his hand to the animal and found that his touch was now tolerated.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Legolas admitted.

“You could have been killed, you crazy Elf!” Elladan pointed out. “Why ever did you do it?”

“It was either ride or be trampled,” Legolas retorted. “I did not have much time to think, gwador.” He smiled at the animal. “Mayhap it wanted to choose its rider and not the other way around.”

Elladan glanced at him and smiled back. “Mayhap.” Or perhaps the beast had simply fallen under his friend’s spell.

*******

Thranduil and his three other children stared in astonishment as they watched the stallion approach the royal halls, bearing Legolas and Elladan. And they were not the only ones. Many gathered to see for themselves that the king’s youngest son had indeed tamed the heretofore untamable beast.

Thranduil looked at his son with an expression that defied description. Knowing Legolas and coupling that knowledge with Elladan’s presence, he just knew the two had barely escaped disaster. Before Legolas could speak, he shook his head and simply announced, “Whatever you did, do not tell me! And, yes, since you tamed him, you may have him.”

Beside him, Brethildor and Nimeithel smiled in admiration at their brother but Melthoron pouted in envy. Legolas saw his oldest brother’s expression and barely managed to suppress a smirk. Elladan, however, had no such compunctions and blatantly snickered at the Crown Prince’s reaction as he and Legolas dismounted. That earned him a glare, which he blithely ignored as he grinned at the youngest Thranduilion.

Sirgon watched the proceedings from behind the King. He’d hurried away after ascertaining that Legolas was safe. However, he had not expected them to ride the stallion back. He’d been taken unawares when they had returned astride the animal, Elladan behind Legolas. The Elf-warrior, not quite trusting the horse, had wrapped his arms rather tightly around the prince. That the older twin had done so out of precaution and nothing else did not soothe Sirgon’s ruffled feelings at all.

He felt misery well up within him and resentment toward Elrond’s older son. Unguarded, he did not realize that Legolas had seen him until he looked up and met the archer’s blue eyes. Flushing, he lowered his head but, by then, Legolas had seen his unhappiness.

What troubles him? The prince wondered. He was not only miserable but he looked quite capable of murdering Elladan. I must speak with him soon.

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

Glossary:

Thranduilion - son of Thranduil

To be continued...
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Greenleaf & Imladris 7 - Forbidden Fruit