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Path of Honor-Part II: Far From Home	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4869 -:- 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
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Chapter Three

I laid in my new bed in a room somewhere down the empty guest quarters hall, surrounded by darkness, buried beneath the earth. I wondered if this was what it would feel like to die, to be set in a grave. Would my body know the coldness of stone or the loneliness of the dark? Would my fëa dwell here until it was called to Mandos? Maybe, if I died before I could sail West. Did it matter how I died as to whether my fëa would leave the body quickly or be left to flutter about waiting for permission to leave the vessel’s side? If that was true, I’d pray for a valiant end, to die in war and sacrifice myself so my fëa would depart immediately. Always the soldier, I thought to myself.
I was a guest of the King and of the acting King, and therefore, I was given permission to wander about certain areas of the palace. I thought that I would not, to only go where I was summoned to go, but my stomach complained quite loudly at this late hour. I’d been awake for too long and I’d grown hungry. Supper came to my room just as the Prince had ordered. It was scrumptious, even though it was only seasoned vegetables and a bowl of broth. I was sure Legolas was responsible for the choice brought to me. No meat, curious, especially after I looked distastefully at the unusual use of animal decor in the Kings audience chamber. He must have assumed that Lórien elves did not eat meat, which was completely untrue. Of course, it could have been ordered purposefully. That seemed more likely to me. Legolas couldn’t deny me food, but he could send me whatever he preferred. No matter. It would take more than a boring meal to chase me away. I came to Mirkwood for a reason, and I would not leave until my task was completed.
I got out of bed and dressed, only putting on my leggings and undershirt. The shirt was long enough. It resembled nightclothes, if anyone should be about the palace at this time of night. I slipped into my boots and left my room in search of food so that I could possibly go back to sleep. I never could sleep on an empty stomach. It was the reason I always kept a leaf-wrapped bundle of lembas with me. But it had spoiled long before I reached the palace, a moldy victim of the humid forest environment.
I somehow managed to find my way to the kitchen. Legolas had brought me here during our tour. I knew it wasn’t far from the main hall. I just had to remember which corridor to take in order to find it. Success was quick, and I found myself in a deserted kitchen. The pots were all clean and hanging in their proper places. The stoves were cold, the fires having gone out hours ago.
It was a very big room, the kitchen. One wall had shelves from floor to ceiling. Boxes, jars, bottles, and a number of miscellaneous items were housed here. Other shelves held smaller pots and pans, a few larger cooking utensils, baskets and dishes for serving. The wall opposite was where the fireplaces, wood burning stoves and fire pits were situated. And in the very center of the kitchen was a long wooden table where the meals were prepared. It was worn with knife marks and berry stains, and places where it had been scoured from multiple cleanings. Drying herbs hung above the table, where there was a grid of wooden dowels used for hanging the different plants. It smelled delicious; sage, lavender, rosemary, and thyme just to name a few.
I walked around the table, stacked with bowls, baskets, and cutting boards, and looked for any leftovers. They were all clean and emptied of their contents from the earlier dinner service. Not even a roll was left. The cooks were very thorough in their cleaning skills. My stomach complained audibly with disappointment.
“Looking for something to eat?” I heard him say. I turned and found Legolas in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing dark green leggings and a half-buttoned shirt. He leaned against the frame, one barefoot crossed over the other, and his arms folded. He wore no braids in his hair, and it spilled over his shoulders, framing his handsome face. His eyes looked over me with softness, not like the sharp slits they had been the last time we spoke. “Did you not find your meal enjoyable?”
“I did, though it was lacking sustenance. A few slices of venison or wild boar might have sufficed,” I answered.
“Which do you prefer?” he asked, head tilting to the side, and his eyes fixed on me.
“I’ve always leaned more toward venison myself. And you?”
“Venison is delicious, but nothing compares to a properly cooked boar. I like a meat that I can … sink my teeth into.” He was doing it again, making small talk while implying something more salacious. “You won’t find any meat here, though.”
“I haven’t found much of anything here,” I said, looking around the well-organized kitchen.
“Oh, there’s food here. You just have to know where to look.” He walked over to one of the shelves and stepped up on the third one from the floor, stretched as far as he could, and retrieved a basket. His frame was long and slim, but his upper body and arms definitely gave away his occupation, an archer’s physique for sure. “The cook always keeps something up here,” he said, lowering the basket, and handing it to me.
“How did you know?” I smiled, seeing five or six large red apples inside.
“When I was just an elfling, I spent a lot of time in the kitchens. I learned the cook’s secret by watching her. She would save the first loaf of a batch of bread, or the first pears from a fresh barrel. One time I found sweet rolls,” he explained, reaching back to the memories of his youth.
“Why would she hide food?” I asked. It seemed like an odd thing for a cook to do when there was always food available.
“Stems back to when she was small. Her mother and father were killed, and she was orphaned, forced to live alone in the wild, scrounging for anything edible. It’s a habit she was never able to break free of.”
“Sounds awful,” I sympathized.
“Well, it was awful for me when she found out what I’d been up too. Reveth, the cook, she scolded me something terrible the first time she caught me climbing the shelf and raiding her cache of food. Of course, I didn’t pay her any mind. I kept right on doing it.” He climbed back down as he told me his story, and took the basket from me, setting it on the table. Then he retrieved two apples from the basket and tossed one to me, continuing his tale. “And then one day, my mother died, and I stopped coming to the kitchen. I stopped going anywhere, stayed safely tucked away in my room, by order of my father, the King. He was terrified that something was coming for me too.” He paused from his story, and I could see the renewed pain lacing his face.
“I remember hearing the news about your mother. We sang a lament for her in Lothlórien.”
“I never knew that,” he said.
I nodded. “I remember it quite clearly. My mother sailed not but a year before. I was so young, I did not understand, and I thought they were singing for her, to remember her.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling the Prince this, but something compelled me to. “When I asked my father, he explained it to me, told me it was the Queen of the Green Leaves that passed.” I realized that I was taking the storytelling away from him and stopped. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to change–”
“No, it’s quite alright. You suffered a loss too,” he interrupted with a caring look in my direction.
“I wouldn’t say it was a loss, not like yours. My mother awaits her family in Valinor.”
“She was not there for you as you grew and matured. I would say that is a loss of proportionate size,” Legolas pointed out.
We were silent for a moment, and we broke the quiet by taking a few more bites of our apples. The sweet crispy fruit seemed to distract us from our sadness, and I suddenly wanted to know more about this cook and little Prince Legolas. “So, you are all grown up, and Reveth still fills her basket,” I said in a jesting manor.
“As I was saying, after I lost my mother, I think she felt sorry for me. Or maybe it reminded her of her own loss and hardship. I eventually came out of my room, once my father felt the danger had passed, but I did not climb the shelf anymore. I sat in that corner,” he said, pointing to the end of the wall with the shelves. There was an overturned bucket, probably used to mop the floors. “I was so lost during those first months without my mother. Anyways, one day, Reveth took me aside and asked me to retrieve something for her. It was inside the same basket where she used to hide her food. I climbed and reached inside, and I found an apple as well as a drawing of my mother, the Queen. Reveth drew it, and told me to never forget my mother, her teachings, or what she stood for. And that there would always be food for me in that basket.” He smiled at the memory. “And there always is.”
“You are very fortunate to have Reveth,” I said. “But why were you always in the kitchen? Didn’t you have a nanny to care for you when your father was away or too busy?”
“I had teachers and tutors, but no nanny. There was always someone by my side telling me what to do or how to do it. One taught swordplay, and another taught archery. One taught me to sing, and another taught me to read and write. But Reveth, she never taught me anything like that. She gave me life lessons … how to carry myself and be aware of my manners, how to behave like a proper gentleman, how to gain and keep an elleth’s attention . . .”
“You must not have listened very well to that one,” I jested.
He laughed and took a bite of his apple. I was shamelessly half way through with mine. “I paid attention, but I put my own version of it into play once I was older. How to charm an ellon, not much different from influencing a female, if you know the right things to say.”
“I’d say you’re still learning,” I said boldly.
He took another bite, and his eyes penetrated my own. “Are you offering your tutoring services?” A sly smile turned the corner of his mouth as he chewed. “Tell me, what I have done wrong when trying to gain an ellon’s attention.”
Embarrassed, I shook my head and looked away. “I don’t think I’m qualified to say.”
“You’ve had lovers, haven’t you?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Relationships?”
“Only two,” I answered.
“So what drew you to them that made you want to have a special bond rather than a meaningless fling?” he asked with enthusiasm. “Was it looks? Wealth? The size of his cock?” he laughed.
“Personality,” I answered without waiting. “We were compatible. We understood each other. We respected one another.”
“Interesting,” he said, setting his half eaten apple on the table. “If you were so compatible, then why are they gone?”
I bowed my head and looked at the floor, defeated by his line of questioning. “Because my love of being a soldier always comes first.”
“Ah, the army thing again,” Legolas said, nodding. “Funny isn’t it? One wants to fuck and chooses to fight. The other wants to fight and chooses to fuck.”
“It’s not really your choice, though, is it? Not when your father orders you to stay within the palace.”
“Oh, so now it is my father’s orders. Yesterday, you made it seem as though I hid underground instead of fighting with my people,” he said with temper beginning to flare.
I remembered what I said to him before and felt ashamed. “Our conversation yesterday went a bit astray, and I apologize for my comments. They were uncalled for.”
There was a flash of relief on his face to hear me say this, but it disappeared faster than it came, and he waved a hand in the air. “No need. Actually, I’m glad for it. You are an outsider looking in. You see things for what they are, and you’re right. I am following my father’s orders. I’m supposed to. It doesn’t mean I like it, but I must.”
I took a step closer to Legolas, coming to his side, and I put my hand on his shoulder. “Thranduil is King, but he is your father first. Talk to him. Let him know how you feel. Tell him you want to join the battle.”
“If it was that easy, I would have done it already. No, this is more than wanting to protect his only heir. This is punishment for a poor decision I made recently.” He turned to me with a forced smile. “But enough about me. You know you do not have to stay. Obviously you do not like it here. With my father away on business, and I left in charge of the kingdom, you could hold an audience with me, as acting King, and be on your way at first light.”
I hadn’t thought about that. He was right. I did want to leave, but I found myself drawn to this place all of a sudden. I’d learned a few of its secrets, and saw a glimmer of hope that I might convince King Thranduil to join Lothlórien in a war against Dol Guldur. And I thought I could do this by using his son to help him come to a decision. “Actually, it will be more beneficial if I speak directly to you father, since he has a final say in all matters concerning his kingdom. No offence to you, Prince Legolas.”
“None taken, and allow me to apologize for your meager meal earlier. I’m afraid that was my fault,” he said sincerely.
“A clean slate, they say, for us both,” I said and bowed.
“Remember, none of that while we are speaking casually,” he corrected, taking my elbow and gesturing for me to straighten. His fingers dwelt on my arm unusually long, but I found myself liking the feel of his touch. I couldn’t, though. He was the King’s son, the son of the elf I needed to convince to fight for the realm. No, I had to be careful how I interacted with Legolas. I pulled away and left his hand cupping the air. He watched me curiously, and then turned away. “Have I satisfied you?” he asked.
“Pardon?” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
Legolas glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes sparkling with some naughty thought. “The apple, was it enough or shall I acquire something else for you.”
“Oh,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Yes, the apple was just fine. I believe I’ll be able to sleep now.”
“And if you find that you cannot, don’t hesitate to knock on my door.”
I wondered when he was going to try that again. “Alas, I do not know where the Prince’s quarters are located. That part of the palace was not on the tour, if you remember.”
“Well, perhaps the next time sleep evades you–”
“I’ll know where the apples are hidden,” I said slyly, finishing his sentence.
He gave a chuckle and left the kitchen.
* * * * *
The next day, I showed myself around the underground palace, and somehow managed to find someplace new. What I thought was a corridor leading to the armory, emptied into a huge, brightly lit garden. I was shocked to see it. I didn’t think anything could be grown underground, but here it was right in front of me. There was row after row of herbs and vegetables, fruit trees and grape vines. Everything needed to sustain life under a hill in a dark forest was growing in this one place.
“Captain Rúmil, how good to see you again.” It was Messel. I hadn’t seen here since I was bound to my bed in the Healing Hall.
“You are a lovely sight this morning, Messel,” I replied with a proper bow.
“And how is your leg?” she asked with a bright smile.
“Almost completely healed. I saw the healer earlier, and she redressed the wound. I won’t need dressing the next time she sees me, she says. Delightful news to my ears. Those bandages begin to itch after a while.” I looked around the grand room with awe. “This is incredible. I had no idea it even existed. Tell me, how do you get the light to touch the entire floor?” In the ceiling, above the center of the room was an opening to the outside. Sunlight could shine down to the floor of the cave, but I couldn’t understand how it spread throughout the room.
“We use large mirrors, not unlike a lady’s looking glass that she might keep on her vanity. They capture and reflect the light from above, and send it in all directions. We can turn them to direct the light anywhere we want it to go. Or, like you see here, it delivers light evenly across the entire room.”
“What an ingenious design,” I said, stunned. “But what about the opening. Doesn’t it leave you vulnerable to attack?”
“There are guards always stationed above. Any sign of the enemy, and they can signal to the gardeners below. There is a door that can be closed by the elves turning those big wheels,” Messel said as she pointed in the direction of the wooden wheels. “In only a few short minutes, the ceiling can be sealed. No light can pass, of course, but as soon as the threat is gone, the door is opened back up. We are very lucky that there has only been one such threat, but the guards extinguished it quickly, and the doors were not closed for very long.”
“Amazing. Simply amazing,” I gawked.
“You sound surprised, Captain. Did you not think that the Wood elves could invent something as useful and secure as this?”
“Well … I … I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it before. I just assumed there were gardens above ground.”
“There used to be, many years ago, but the threat from the enemy has become much too great to risk the lives of our farmers.”
We strolled down several aisles, and I took note of all the different types of food growing, peppers, tomatoes, lettuces, and corn, just to name a few.
“You must miss the topside world,” she stated after a while.
“I do, Messel, the trees in particular,” I said longingly.
“Then we must go outside, and cure what ails you. Come with me. I’ll show you to the practice grounds.”
My heart raced at the thought of shooting my bow. “Let me stop by my guest quarters first, so that I can grab my weapon.”
“Of course,” Messel smiled, and we were on our way.
* * * * *
Top side, at last. The air was a bit humid, but at this point I could care less. I was outside … above ground, and it was wonderful. Trees grew all around us. Not the gnarled diseased trees that grew in the dark parts of the forest, but healthy trees, beech, cedar, oak. The sunlight cut through the canopy, making beams that touched my skin, warming me instantly, filling me with delight. I hadn’t been outside in over a week, and I didn’t realize until now just how much I missed it.
“Where are the practice grounds?” I asked.
“Not far,” Messel said as we walked along a path cutting through the forest. After a little while, it opened up into a glade. The ground was flat here, no longer sloping where the hill was. I guessed we had left the palace behind, and we were now in the area surrounding the underground kingdom.
There was a group of Wood elves on the opposite side of the area, standing in a row, looking to their right as they listened to the advice of none other than the Prince. He spoke with the intensity of one who loved the sport, and so he should. He was the best in all the realms, but I had never had the opportunity to see his talent until now.
Legolas took his position in front of the targets, all the while telling the others what to pay attention to. He nocked an arrow, aimed and hit his target dead center. He did this all in one swift move, not even stopping to line up his aim. Then he did it twice more, talking to his men as he fired one after another. It seemed he barely even looked at where he was firing, and hit center each time. When he was through giving his example, he turned the others loose to practice on their own for a while. The Prince’s attention then turned towards Messel and me. He smiled and approached, and his eyes caught mine.
“You’ve arrived at the perfect time, Captain,” he said, using my proper title in front of the other elves. “The men will be busy for a while, and I see that you’ve brought your bow. What do you say we have a little target practice of our own?”
“I’d like that very much, Prince Legolas,” I responded.
“I’m sorry my Prince, but I must get back to my sister. We have some business to tend to. Hopefully next time I might join you,” said Messel disappointedly.
“Perhaps next time you and your sister might join me,” Legolas said, but his tone suggested something other than target practice. It made me wonder.
Messel, raised a skeptical brow, but she turned to me instead. “Shall I come back and escort you to your quarters when you are finished, Captain? It is easy to lose your way around the corridors.”
“I’ll bring him,” Legolas answered quickly. “I’m done with the men for the day, and I have some free time.”
“Very well,” Messel answered. “Captain, as usual, it is a pleasure.” She turned to Legolas. “My Prince,” she finished with a bow.
Legolas watched her walk away, a sly look on his face that surprised me. “If I were any other kind of elf . . .” He did not finish the sentence, but I understood what he meant. Just because we preferred males to females did not mean we couldn’t appreciate the beauty of a woman, and Messel was a definite beauty.
“And she is a twin,” I added.
He looked at me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You know something about twins?”
“Not … from … personal experience,” I stammered.
Legolas began walking away from the group of practicing elves, and I followed. “For a moment, I thought you might have been to Imladris before.” He looked over his shoulder at me with a sly grin. “If you should ever go there, be very wary of Lord Elrond’s sons.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, unsure of what he meant by that comment, and very curious all the same.
On the other side of the grounds was another practice area, with dummies made to look like orcs. It was a good likeness, I thought. I’d seen my fair share of the beasts to know.
“So, you are the Captain of an archery regiment, sent in before the other troops to minimize the number of enemies on the front lines. Is that correct?” he asked as we stood before the dummies.
“That would right. We attack from the trees, mostly. Hit the enemy with a downpour of arrows, and while they are distracted, disoriented, and dying, the ground troops run in.”
“Interesting method. And successful?” he wondered.
“Very, my lord.” He seemed to wince at the way I addressed him, but rules were rules, and we were not alone.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, then.” He gestured for me to take my turn first. I nodded and took my bow from my back. Legolas went and retrieved a wooden bucket of arrows, and set it at my feet. “Wouldn’t want you wasting any of your well-made Lórien arrows. You’ll need them when you leave Mirkwood.”
I looked at the practice arrows, and I was dissatisfied with their quality. It would be difficult to show my talents with these used and bent sticks. Now, why would Legolas want me to use them … unless he feared that I might actually come close to his own natural ability? What had he heard about me, and from whom? It could only be Haldir, who had been to Mirkwood half a dozen times over the years. That made me curious as to what else they might have discussed during those visits, especially if my brother spoke of his family on a personal level.
“Any time you’re ready, Captain,” Legolas said, breaking my thoughts.
I pushed the bucket aside with my foot and smiled kindly to the Prince. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just use my own arrows. I can always make more for the journey home.”
“As you wish,” Legolas answered, and he moved away to give me enough personal space to ready my mind and my body for archery.
I cleared my head of anything but my goal to hit the enemy where it would bring instant death. I took my position, adjusted my stance, my back, and my legs, reached into my quiver and nocked an arrow. Elbow up, arm straight, pull back, feel the right amount of tension in the strings, aim, breathe out and . . . Just as I hoped for, right through the heart of the beast dummy.
“Excellent death shot,” Legolas said sounding impressed. “My turn.” He took his place, drew his bow and an arrow from his quiver, and fired hitting it right between the eyes. His moves were so swift, yet smooth like a dance. I almost didn’t see him looking at his target. “Now, aim to deprive him of death,” he said.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Let’s say you only want to impair him so you can interrogate him as your prisoner,” Legolas explained.
“And why would I want to do that?”
Legolas rolled his eyes. “You soldiers are all alike. Kill, kill, kill. But there are times when information must be drawn from the enemy. Where do you shoot him?”
He was testing me. Fine, I would play his game. I moved faster than I did the first time, and pulled another arrow from my quiver, nocked it to the bow and fired into the leg. Then I quickly repeated my actions, burying my arrow into the other leg. I smiled, proud of my choice. “Alive and immobile.”
“Not bad, Captain, but now you will have to interrogate him where he lay, since he cannot walk. And in Mirkwood, it is never a good idea to stay in one place for very long.” He took two used arrows from the bucket and nocked them. Then he gave a clever smile. “Watch this,” he whispered.
Legolas stood with his feet apart, back straight, elbow up and parallel with the ground. As he brought his arm back, I could see his biceps tense. He would have to pull back further than normal in order to fire two arrows at once. He aimed at the practice dummy, but then he raised his bow at an angle. When he did that, I couldn’t help but notice how long and straight his body was. He had perfect form. No wonder he was the best. I was so enthralled just watching him line up his shot, I almost missed said shot. Still, he was using a pair of worn arrows, and I could clearly see that they had a slight bend in the shaft. This would never work, I thought to myself. The arrows were useless. He’d be lucky to hit anything but the ground. And then, he released both arrows at once. They flew upwards, crisscrossed and came down in perfect synchronicity, striking the dummy in each shoulder. I was truly amazed by what I’d just seen. I was speechless for a moment.
Legolas turned to me, confidence brimming. There was something about an extremely confident ellon that made my blood pulse faster through my veins, and Legolas reeked of it. “You see, Captain. An injury like that leaves your captive free to walk, but he can’t use his arms. That way he cannot fight back as he is taken into custody. The arrows in the shoulders are also good for forcing the information from him if he won’t talk. It is a very painful injury, especially when the arrows are moved about. Renders his arms utterly useless, but the pain is excruciating. Just a twist, and he’ll give you the name of every piece of scum in his army.”
I hardly heard what he said. I was still astounded by the fact that he’d used arrows that weren’t even fit to pick my teeth with. “We … don’t usually … interrogate . . .” I stammered, but my words faded as I walked up to the dummy to examine it more closely. “These arrows are bent.”
“Yes. And?” he said nonchalantly.
“And they … well you…” I pointed upwards, and then downwards, my finger ending at the entry wound. “They crossed and . . .” I looked back to see Legolas smiling, his white teeth glimmering and his eyes alive with joy. I think it had been a very long time since he’d impressed someone new.
“Another lesson for you, Captain. Use what you’ve got and make the best of it.”
“Will you show me how you did that?” I felt like I was an elfling again, just learning to fire my bow.
He laughed and called me back to him. I walked at a fast pace, ready for my first lesson. Then he took two arrows from the bucket and handed them to me. These were just like the ones he shot, bent, notched along the shaft, and even blunt at their tips. They looked utterly useless.
“The idea is to make them work for you. You know a bent arrow never flies straight, but you can still force it to work to your advantage.” He took one of the arrows from me and pulled a small knife from his belt. As he did so, he pushed aside the dark green robe he wore, and I could see the outline of his waist because of his snug-fitting tunic. He was very lean. Legolas proceeded to run the sharp knife along the edge of one side of the yellow fletching, reshaping it. He held it to his eye, looking down the shaft of the arrow, and then handed it back to me. “Do you see what I did?”
I looked down the arrow’s shaft, and noticed the bend and the adjustment to the fletching. “It counters the bend?” I asked, one eye closed as I examined it.
“Exactly. And it is also important to hold the arrows to the bow so that they bend away from each other.”
I nocked both arrows to my bow, and thought about what position to put them in. I’d shot countless double arrows in my lifetime. That much I knew to do, but firing bent arrows? That was confusing me.
“Here, let me show you,” said the Prince, coming up behind me. His body contoured to mine, and his hands rested on my forearms. “Turn them so they are bending away from the string,” he said. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my ear. Ignoring as best as I could, I adjusted the arrows.
“This does not feel right,” I said.
“It’s not supposed to. You’re using arrows that should have been turned into kindling.” His hand traveled down the length of my arm to my hand, and his face came up next to mine. “If the arrows are pointed inwards, they would nick each other. If they face up, they might come back to you, and that would be a very bad thing. Turn them downward and they’ll hit ground. But turn them out and away from each other … and now look at the fletching where I shaped it.”
I did as he said and suddenly I understood the flight of the arrows. “They’ll turn away, and then they’ll start to spin, but the fletching will steady them.”
“And they’ll crisscross and come down straight,” he finished explaining. “That’s why you want to aim the bow up at an angle.” His hands left mine, but they found their way to my sides as he adjusted my stance. “Use your lower back,” he said. One hand came to rest at the small of my back. “And tighten your abdominal muscles.” His other hand pressed against my lower stomach, and he made a grunting sound. “You are very firm, Captain,” he commented.
I did my best to keep my composure, but it was difficult with Legolas touching me in places that were very close to parts of me that hadn’t been touched in more than a year. There was no denying the charge I felt from the contact.
“Now,” he continued. “Hold your waist steady, lift your aim up.” His hands left my waist and took hold of my biceps. I noticed that his grip was tight, as though he was examining me. I automatically flexed, hoping he was impressed, and heard the slightest of moans, though I could have been wrong. “A little further. Good. Now, pull back, gently … gently.”
“It’s difficult to hold the arrows in this position for very long,” I commented, feeling like a new recruit. It had been a few centuries since anyone gave me a lesson by example. “I mean, because they are curved. It feels unnatural.”
“That’s the thing, Captain. Everything you do should feel natural to you. You don’t let something control you. You control it. You make it do whatever you want it to do.” His voice was like satin. His breath was caressing my ear and my neck. Suddenly, I’d stay in this position all day just to hear him speak and feel his words wash over my skin. And just like that, Legolas released me from his trance and his grip. He stepped away from me and spoke with authority. “Now fire.”
I lined my vision with the angle at which I held my bow, and saw nothing but trees. I knew the target was out of my sights, and I had to trust that my arrows would land where they needed to go. Feeling like I was firing blind, I released the string and watched as the bent arrows flew up, crisscrossed, and came down hitting the dirt at either side of the practice dummy. I’d missed the shot completely.
Legolas laughed from behind me, and then he clapped a hand to my shoulder. “That’s alright, Captain. No one does it on their first try. Takes a long time to achieve that shot,” he said mockingly.
So, that was his reason for all of this. He wanted to see me fail at something, and he knew there was not much I could not achieve, since I was well trained in archery, and a Captain at that. I knew what he’d shown me as an actual technique, and I understood everything he told me. But he distracted me with his suggestive voice, and the intimacy of his warm breath. And now look at him, puffing like a peacock. Just like a Wood elf to play dirty. Well, I was not about to let him get one over on me. I could make that shot. He’d given me all the tools. I just needed to put them together in the right order.
Legolas was walking back to the elves at the other end of the practice grounds, and I noticed that the men hadn’t been practicing all this time. They’d been watching us. I gasped internally, feeling my stomach clench tight, as I thought about what it must have looked like, having the Prince touching me, pressing his body against mine. Instinct told me to worry about the outcome of such intimacy, and I had to remind myself that I was in Mirkwood where no one cared if you rutted on the ground before the King and his court. They probably liked to watch, I said as an afterthought in my anger at the arrogant Prince.
Instead of following him, I turned back to the practice dummies and went straight to the bucket of used arrows. I found two that looked horribly unusable and pulled my knife from my boot. I shaved the yellow feathers of the fletching, just like he showed me. All the while, I could hear Legolas’ men tell him to turn, that I was going back for a second try.
“You’re wasting your time, Captain Rúmil. You’ll never make that shot. Took me months to perfect it and I was the quickest to learn,” he called to me.
I ignored him and continued with my task. Maybe I wouldn’t hit the target, but damn it, no one tricked me like this, especially not a Wood elf. I was raised proper, to help when help was needed, not to set someone up for failure, and then laugh at them. These Mirkwood elves lacked manners and an understanding for the world outside of their caves. They spoke offensively without knowledge of doing so, or perhaps that’s what they wanted everyone to think. They were ignorant and uneducated. And none other than the Prince himself was pissing me off to a degree that no one ever had … for lack of better words. He’d made me just that mad.
Finished with the arrows, I took my position, adjusted my stance, nocked both arrows correctly, straightened, felt the heat of Legolas’ handprint still touching my back and stomach, and realized that the focus of my anger was not for playing me as a fool. It was for liking the feel of his hands on me, for internally swooning to the sound of his voice and the suggestive innuendos behind his words. I was angry at myself for wanting him.
“Fuck!” I said in a berating whisper to myself. I tried to unlearn the sensations, but it was too late. Prince Legolas had touched my lust, and I could not take that back. All I could do now was to stay true to myself. I was an elf of Lothlórien. I would not let some Wood elf have his way with me. I knew what he was about now, and I’d build my defenses to ward him off at every turn. A week, the messenger had said about the return of King Thranduil. Just a few more days in this deplorable kingdom of darkness and heathens, and I could leave and never return. How in Mordor was Haldir able to come back here? He was more tolerable than I would ever be, I’d give him that. Or . . .
Or was he seduced by the Prince also. Did Legolas try the same tactics on my brother? I laughed. Haldir would never give in so easily. But then again, he had been to Mirkwood six times. I shook my head of such thoughts. “Ridiculous,” I said. “Now, make this shot or look like an even bigger fool, Rúmil.”
I pulled my arm back, tilted the bow up, closed my eyes and said a quick prayer to the Valar. Then I released my arrows and watched them fly. They crossed each other, came down towards the dummy and . . .
The left arrow sunk into the ground just behind the dummy, but the right one hit it in the upper arm. It wasn’t the shoulder, but it was a hit nonetheless. I did it! Well, only one arrow, but I did it. About this time, I realized that I wasn’t breathing and took a gulping breath of moisture filled air. The ringing in my ears dissipated, and I heard the cheers from the other elves. I turned to shoot them an arrogant look, and found Prince Legolas coming towards me at a quick pace. When he was just a few strides away, I straightened my shoulders to look down my nose at him. “What do you have to say to that?” I gloated.
He never slowed his tread as he approached. He was not smiling, nor did he look like he was going to congratulate me. Was he angry? Was he going to pull his knife on me? I braced myself for whatever was going on in his mind. He was just about upon me, and I was sure he was going to punch me. I raised my hands in fists, prepared for him to strike me. Instead, he pushed my hands away and grasped the front of my tunic, pulling me to him. His face was only an inch from mine. His blue eyes had darkened like the sky when it is about to storm. His brows were drawn together. He looked dangerous, unpredictable, and fierce.
“Come on then! Do something!” I challenged, prepared for anything except for what was about to happen.
Legolas captured me with those stormy lust raging eyes. “You, Rúmil, are never afraid to break the rules, fearless when challenged, and, by the gods, I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes upon you.” Before I knew it, he was kissing me. His lips were hard and demanding. He devoured my mouth, insistently pushing his tongue between my lips. His body pressed against mine, and I felt his urgency, as solid as an iron rod against my thigh. He pushed me backwards until he had me up against a tree, grinding his hips into mine. Legolas was as uncontrollable as a wildfire, and his skin was a hot as one. Sweet Eru, he felt as though he’d stepped out of the flames of Mount Doom, and it made my own body heat and respond. I couldn’t think straight, and I started to give into his persistence when I heard whoops and hollers coming from the other elves.
To say I was embarrassed was an understatement. I was mortified. I was bloody angry for being taken advantage of. And I had a cockstand that felt like the size of an oliphant’s trunk. Legolas had me braced against the tree, my arms locked in his grasp. I needed to get free, so I quit resisting him and started moving along to his gyrating hips. His hands slowly slipped down my arms, reaching for the belt at my waist. The fingers of one hand brushed against my leggings, traveling along the length of my swollen cock. My hips bucked involuntarily, and he smiled against my lips, proud to have produced such a reaction from me. I used the small window of opportunity when he left my arms free to move, clenched my hand into a tight fist, swung up and caught him in the stomach. Legolas doubled and pushed away from me. He was shocked at my reaction, and so was I, because somewhere deep down, I didn’t want him to stop. It was all so confusing.
At the same moment, the party of onlookers stopped laughing and crowing. Now I heard arrows being pulled from quivers, strings being stretched, and feet marching towards Legolas to protect him. That’s when I realized that I’d punched their Prince. No one assaulted royalty that didn’t end up in a cell. That’s it. I was going to be arrested.
Without turning to his men, Legolas held up a hand to stop them. “I’m alright,” he called to them, and they stayed put halfway across the field.
“No one hits the King’s son,” one of them answered. I watched as they started to come forward again, each set of eyes trained on me.
“I said I am fine. Leave us,” Legolas commanded.
“But–”
“Go!” the Prince demanded, cutting short the elf who argued. Reluctantly, the group of elves left the training grounds.
We stood there, facing each other, but unable to look at one another, until we were completely alone. I knew I must apologize. I should never have hit him, but my mind and my emotions were such a jumbled mess. Eventually, I straightened my tunic where Legolas had pulled it out of my belt. As I did, I used the opportunity to speak. “I … I sincerely apologize, my lord. That was uncalled for. I should never have struck out at you.”
“It … it’s not your fault. I was wrong to … I should not have … but … Valar as my witness, I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re an elf of Lothlórien. I’m not supposed to want you. I’m not even supposed to like you. And … and then you . . .” His words faded into silence.
I could feel the power shifting between us, and I used it to my advantage. “I defied you. You challenged me and I passed the test. I proved you wrong. I surpassed you at something. Admit it, Legolas, you wanted to punch me for showing you up in front of your men. I bested you at something that you were good at … the only elf to accomplish it, and I matched your skill.”
“Something like that,” he responded with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you come here acting all high and mighty like every elf from Lothlórien thinks they are when compared to the Wood elves. I expected it, to be truthful. Your brother reeks of arrogance towards Wood elves. You try to behave like Haldir, but you’re nothing like him. There’s something untamable simmering just below your surface, and I feel like it is my duty to release this beast. I felt it just now as I kissed you. I felt it even more when you punched me. It’s all right there, Rúmil, and I can be the one who sets it free. And to know how close I am to unleashing you sets me aflame.”
“I’m sorry … but … I can’t. I can’t have anything to do with you.”
“Why?” he argued. “You are not bound. You are not betrothed.”
“But I am not free,” I admitted. My own words shocked me. I hadn’t expected to say this, but now that I had, I saw clearer, the reason why.
“There is someone else, isn’t there?” he asked. He almost sounded angry.
“There is … well … there was, but–”
“What stops you, Rúmil?”
I searched deep in my soul for the answer that had alluded me for more than a year now. Here it was, staring me in the face, demanding that I acknowledge it. “Love,” I said. I closed my eyes and turned from Legolas. I was defeated, and so soon after my victory. I was an emotional mess. “Which way back to my quarters?”
Legolas gave an audible sigh … frustration. “Come, I’ll take you there.”
“No,” I said rather quickly. “I’d prefer it if you just told me the way. Please, I want to be alone right now.”
Legolas gave me directions and I left. He respected my wishes and did not follow, but I could tell that he wanted to. He still wanted to know about me, about my past, the real reason I could not set myself free, as he put it. I was far from ready to discuss my past, to say the one name that hadn’t passed these lips in quite some time … Túron.
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Path of Honor-Part II: Far From Home