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Ranger's Folly, Prince's Fate	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3410 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ringsand no money is madefrom this story, main characters and settings created by JRR Tolkien.

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Chapter Four: The Prince of the Woodland Realm

Legolas ran for about three turnings of the corridor, enough to permit his rattled nerves time to settle and his mind time to reassert control over his instinctive flight. He slowed to a walk and inhaled a deep breath, adjusted the towel, and glanced apprehensively over his shoulder. No one was there. The Man from Imladris would not follow, surely not; he could not be so stupid as that.

Yet he was sufficiently obtuse to mistake Thranduil's son for a Seron (courtesan).
How in all of Mordor had he come to such a conclusion; where had he learned both Legolas' name and his whereabouts? Legolas stopped and turned, listening down the hallway, but heard nothing. At once he spotted the tell-tale track of drips and dibbles marking his passage and frowned. Determined not to meet anyone in his present state of undress, Legolas had chosen a circuitous route through seldom used areas of the stronghold, but the Man would easily trail him if such was his intent.

Nay, the minstrels will detain him; my loud words enough to raise their curiosity.

He relaxed, a small smile reworking his features as he imagined the questioning the poor mortal was likely to undergo. Two of the singers were Legolas' cousins on his Nana's side and good friends as well. They would probably report the Man's trespass to Galion and the unfortunate human would have to endure a lengthy period of distinctly uncomfortable soul-delving. Galion was gifted in dissecting auras and combing thoughts; he would discover everything there was to know about the young Man before dinner time. Legolas suddenly felt sorry for him. He hadn't actually done any harm and his interest was almost flattering.

I'm sure he had no idea he was intruding.

He recalled the open admiration and pure, unadulterated desire he'd seen in the comely face, the sweeping gaze that scanned him from head to toes, halting on his rigid cock in evident delight, the light, placating laugh as Legolas covered himself. He remembered the evidence of the Man's prominant arousal, the hard organ eagerly leaning out toward him, pushing at the fabric of the heavy robe. Suddenly Legolas' heart was pounding, his flagging cock rebounding and rubbing in a seriously maddening manner against the damp cotton cloth. Never before had he been the object of such flagrant lust and he discovered this was more than a little exciting.

Oh, he'd been with his share of Seryn (courtesans), but had never proceeded beyond erotic massage and that wasn't the same at all. Even if he had engaged in full intercourse, the Seronath registered identical interest in everyone; there were no favourites. When a Seron found one elf who touched his or her soul as no other could, at that time they stopped being courtesans. Indeed, the desire to share pleasure and give joy was almost a sacred calling, a level of passion beyond the hungers of the body. To discriminate and prefer one elf over another was unthinkable. The Seryn were more like spirit healers and if they were drawn to any it was to those mired in grief, sorrow, or loneliness.

Legolas sighed; they were always seeking him out these days. He was appreciative but at the same time it was depressing. Didn't anyone want him because he was alluring, daring, and fun?

This unknown Man quite obviously wanted me, Legolas, specifically and with enough feeling to seek me out.

That was definitely a point in the mortal's favour. He shivered and pulled the towel tighter. That he'd been mistaken for a Seron explained much, of course, but even that was rather exciting. On long patrols there was always talk of sex, being an activity sorely missed by all, and nearly everyone had a favourite courtesan whose erotic skill would be lauded and extolled in graphic detail. Even those elves who were bonded with mates and families recalled the Seryn of their single years with affection and barely suppressed salivation, it being grossly inappropriate to expound on the private activities between married couples.

Legolas had often found these stories both fascinating and frustrating, since the Seron under discussion was not there and he had no means to alleviate the pressing need the lurid descriptions incited, other than masturbation. Sometimes, though, he had the feeling his cohorts were purposely embellishing their romantic endeavours just to see if they could get him all bothered. He frequently had to excuse himself in the midst of these lengthy narratives and bore the ensuing teasing over his highly responsive libido with as much grace as he could muster. It was, in a strange way he couldn't quite define, rather gratifying to have the Man want him the way he'd wanted those lionised lovers.

Legolas stopped abruptly, suddenly realising he had apparently been the principal subject of just such an explicit tale told to this unknown Man from Imladris. His face reddened in angry shame; he'd never imagined such a thing, especially since he had no sexual exploits for which to be renowned. He was not, after all, one of the Seronath and everyone knew it. Alarm joined the emotions motivating his racing pulse; the Man's interest now sickening and infuriating. It could only be that someone had deliberately filled his head with such stories and, knowing of Greenwood's courtesans, the gullible mortal had assumed Legolas was one of them.

Someone set him up; someone is using him to ridicule my lonely life!

The young archer first denied the idea; none of his friends would play such a joke on him. Then he had to face the fact that only an elf of the household would know his favourite haunts so well. There were one or two cousins, his rivals amid their peers, who were jealous of his esteem as a warrior and his place of favour as the King's only heir. Yes, they might do something like this if they'd learned of his secret wish. Fury replaced his discomfort and he was about to turn back, deciding to interrogate the Man himself and learn who could be so unkind, when his keen hearing picked up the soft footfalls of an elf approaching from ahead.

Dismayed, Legolas looked down at his near nakedness, observing with irritation that his penis simply reused to lie down quietly and wait until he was in more comfortable circumstances to deal with it. It occurred to his agitated mind, filled as it was with rage over the cruel prank, that the perpetrators might actually be coming along to see the results of their malicious deed. Perhaps this was one of them; he became convinced it must be so. He did not want to face either one in this vulnerable estate, with just a wet towel covering his recalcitrant cock, the perfect target of their jeering laughter and lewd remarks. Panic replaced anger and Legolas glanced nervously left and right.

A doorway stood near, firmly shut but this was not an area of private quarters for either family or staff. Mostly the rooms here were for guests and since there were few of those mostly they were unoccupied. He hastened to the portal, threw it open, stepped inside its dark confines, shut it silently, and leaned an ear against the barrier so to mark the elf's passing. Yet, it was not what might be happening in the hall that garnered his notice. Behind him came the soft rustle of silk on bare skin, a mild grunt of surprise, and a murmured 'What was that?' followed by heavy breathing and a stilted 'What was what?'.

Legolas held his breath, eyes enormous; he wasn't alone. There was a distinct sense of motion in the dark room, the subtle noise of bodies rubbing against each other, a low moan.

"Stop! Someone's in here," came a hoarse whisper amid the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh and the minor creaking of some piece of furniture bearing the strain.

"Nay, nay, nobody's here. Oh! Just let me…" Another groan, deeper and more urgent, cut off the words.

Legolas' stomach bunched into knots; he could not stay in here and witness the lovers' intimate climax. Praying the couple never found out who had invaded their secret tryst, he lifted the latch as quietly as possible, stepped back into the corridor, shut the door silently, turned, and ran right into the elf he'd been trying to evade.

They collided with enough force to make Legolas stagger backward, he being the one barely moving while the ellon whose path he'd crossed was walking briskly along the passage. Legolas gave a startled cry and gaped up at the ellon, who gave a startled cry and peered back, grabbing onto the prince's biceps to keep him from stumbling into the wall. Two pairs of eyes locked in stunned enthralment, caught in an unexpected moment of sudden and inexplicable recognition.

The harried archer stared into the most compelling grey gaze he'd ever encountered, watching in wonder as he saw desire fill it, acutely aware of the strength in the hands holding him, the raw, virile power of the tall, lean frame before him. The ellon was exquisitely beautiful, well-formed beyond masculine fantasies depicted in erotic books, and Legolas knew this because all he was wearing was a simple cotton robe tied loosely at the hips. It gaped open all the way to the small, inward fold of his navel. Black hair trailed freely over his shoulders and down his chest, defining the tantalising strip of naked skin revealed. His feet were bare; his lips were smiling, and one dark brow arched high in enquiring amusement.

Slowly, slowly those incredible eyes tracked over him, scrutinising him the way he might an expanse of unknown terrain, pausing to memorise specific landmarks: his ears, his mouth, his nipples, his blatant erection. There the eyes remained as eons of time sped away and it was only then that Legolas realised he was no longer holding onto the towel. In fact, now that he was aware of its absence about his waist he could feel its damp weight atop his left foot. There was absolutely nothing guarding his modesty, nothing between that devouring stare and his rigid red shaft. That, to his complete mortification, made him grow even harder and invoked an involuntary quiver along the entire length of engorged flesh.

The movement elicited a sharp, excited breath from Elladan, for it was he, and his gaze flew back to the fair visage. Expecting to find open invitation there and hear a ribald quip, instead he found himself peering into blue eyes awash in abject embarrassment, burgeoning with desire but only the desire to disappear. Elladan's smile faltered and he passed his sight over the beautiful countenance again, noting now the faint shadows above the cheekbones, the strain around the parted lips, the weariness and loneliness hidden in those infinite eyes.

He had thought running into this young, wet, naked, and aroused Seron an unprecedented bit of luck, since he was on his way to the hot springs to seek one, but now he felt it was all a horrible mistake. The ellon was clearly not a courtesan and thus his presence in public in such a state bespoke some grave event just transpired. Indeed, he was trembling, shivering in all his gloriously dripping, vulnerable nudity, betrayed by his own body into revealing what was obviously a confusing reaction to someone he did not know. At once the intrepid Orc-slayer's heart was overwhelmed with compassion and he wanted nothing more than to put this young warrior at ease and punish whoever had placed him at such disadvantage.

Elladan acted on impulse, hoping to vanquish humiliation with humour, and whisked off his robe. With a flourish he wrapped it around the ellon's slender body, smiling into the surprised face. "Seems only fair," he shrugged, "that I give you the same opportunity."

He took a step back to show he was not a threat in any way whatsoever and prayed fervently that this unbelievably alluring creature would not bolt. He found his heart thudding and his soul swelling more quickly than his cock, a reaction he'd never experienced, and briefly wondered what one did to relieve an erection of the spirit. The quandary vanished as he beheld the most beatific smile overtaking the ellon's distraught expression. He grinned back in what he was sure must be a foolishly besotted manner but didn't care in the least. His companion was easing his arms into the sleeves, careful to keep the robe draped over his excited cock; the fabric billowed into an enticing little tent atop his groin. Elladan noticed, but kept his eyes on the becoming face. At last the vision spoke.

"Thank you," Legolas said quietly, snuggling into the robe still warm from contact with its last wearer. Oh, that was a delicious thought; he wrapped it even closer against his skin.

He let his eyes make the same journey the visitor's had, realising only now that this must be one of the famous twin sons of Elrond. His heart redoubled its efforts to supply him with enough blood to keep from saying something stupid and making an utter fool of himself, so much of the vital fluid being bound up in regions where thinking was not required. He wanted to make a clever and sophisticated remark that would convey both his gratitude for the ellon's courtesy and appreciation of the fine physique so proudly on display. Legolas exhaled a wistful sigh. How could he ever do justice to such grace? If he had been the epitome of male virility when covered, the noble descendant of Eärendil unclothed was nothing less than the personification of masculine perfection. Here, then, was what Iluvatar had in mind when he'd decided to make elves.

All at once a faint blush crept up the mighty warrior's cheeks and he looked away, for all the world as though he felt self-conscious, and gave a bemused chuckle. Legolas was chagrined to realise his brain had decided to blurt that thought aloud without consulting him.

"Well, male elves perhaps, but I doubt my sister would want to look as I do," said Elladan coyly, marvelling at how much the compliment pleased him. "I think you're the most glorious ellon I've ever seen," he heard himself say, shocked to find his usually glib and gilded tongue returned to the blunt banality that had plagued his adolescence. Yet the humble, though certainly heartfelt, superlative made his admirer positively sparkle with delight and so Elladan could not help but be happy.

He glanced covertly at this amazing person who so deeply affected him and then away, unaccountably unsure of himself, uncharacteristically wanting to cover his nakedness and fighting the urge to use his hands to do so. More than his body was on display; Elladan felt his innermost heart was exposed. Everything he understood about the world and his place in it vanished, replaced by absolute certainty that the elf in front of him was the very core of his reason for being. He wanted him; they belonged together. The power of the realisation disturbed him, unused to this feeling of out-of-control, head-over-heels, giddy exhilaration.

There was the towel on the floor and Elladan hastily took it up, permitting himself the briefest touch of the long slender foot beneath it, and tied it around his loins. Instead of hiding his inordinate interest, the covering only called more attention to his perky erection, but he felt better anyway. He raised his eyes, found the ellon lifting his from their focus on the same place, locked with the intense blue stare, and after a second of soul-sharing they both erupted in light and nervous laughter.

"Ai, Tawar nin beria!" (Tawar protect me) exclaimed Legolas, tearing his sight away for a moment only to return it at once, fearing the ellon would prove to be but a dream if he didn't keep his eyes on him. "This is terribly awkward."

"Aye, but I would rather suffer the discomfort than not have run into you," admitted Elladan. "Permit me to introduce myself: Elladan of Imladris." He held forth his arm, a more easy and winning smile upon his face.

"I am honoured," announced Legolas, giving a polite dip of his head as he wrapped his fingers around the steely muscles below Elladan's elbow. "Legolas of Greenwood."

Elladan's eyes opened wide and his mouth actually fell ajar for a second or two. "You are Legolas?" he asked in obvious disbelief. He'd been so sure this ellon was no Seron and found he didn't like the idea of anyone and everyone having access to him. "Are you all right?" he blundered out, keeping his grip tight on the slender arm, scanning the slight frame keenly, recalling now the frantic upset which had caused Legolas to run into him in the first place.

"Yes, to both questions," answered Legolas, confused but gratified by the intensity of Elladan's concern for him. Then he remembered what had happened earlier and what an image of panic he must have presented. He flushed in embarrassment to have revealed his distress so fully. "Ai, it was nothing, now that I have room to think on it. I was soaking in the spa and just wanted to be alone. Someone barged in, made a rather base and demanding suggestion, and so I just got out of there."

"Oh, well, if you are certain," Elladan reluctantly released Legolas' arm. Considering the aroused state in which he'd met the elf, he rather doubted the encounter was as innocent as this, but it was not his place to pry. An uneasy silence replaced the newly crafted accord between them. Elladan huffed out an exasperated sigh and decided to just plunge ahead. "Will you be at the feast tonight?"

"Yes, at least for a little while. Will I see you there?" Legolas smiled encouragement.

"Most assuredly," answered Elladan. "In fact, I was hoping you would accompany me as my escort for the night."

"Escort?" Legolas' brows rose in bewilderment, for this almost sounded like Elladan expected to bed him, but he quelled his instinct, thinking he was biased by the earlier confrontation with the Man. "I would be honoured to be your companion for the feast."

"Thank you!" enthused Elladan, bowing regally, why he didn't know. "I am the one honoured, Legolas." His antics made Legolas laugh, a bright jubilant sound that sent his heart soaring. He beamed as Thranduil's fair Seron tendered him an equally courtly bow.

"Until this evening, then, Elladan of Imladris, namarië." Legolas turned and pranced away down the hall, brighter in spirit than he'd been in months, and decided to dress and go find his Ada. He wanted to put Elladan's name at the very top of his list of possible suitors. Suddenly what to wear to the festivities took on supreme importance. He glanced behind and found the raven-haired Lord staring after him in dreamy-eyed stupefaction and smiled, lifting his hand in farewell.

"Namarië, Legolas of Greenwood," Elladan murmured, waving back, and watched until his new paramour disappeared around the curve of the passage.

How long he stood there he couldn't guess, for a series of wondrous images passed through his inner eye, not all of them explicitly sexual. He saw himself with Legolas at Imladris participating in Yule festivities, hunting in the fields, sharing a quiet moment on his balcony stargazing, making love before the hearth. The golden-haired ellon fit seamlessly into his life, accepted by friends and family alike, and the years rolled by them uncounted in effortless bliss. The daydreams were brutally shattered by a hand clamping roughly to his shoulder and spinning him round. A face dark with savage fury hovered inches from his.

"What do you think you're doing? I saw you talking to Legolas; what did you say to him?" Aragorn demanded, having tracked the Wood Elf only to find him parting from his foster-brother under highly suggestive circumstances. He'd wanted to apologise and make things right, still hoping to garner the lovely Seron's attentions for the night, and now here was Elladan sporting nothing but the very towel Legolas had run off in. Features twisted in disgust, he looked his brother up and down. "What did you do, fuck him right in the corridor?"

"Take your hand off me." Elladan didn't wait to be obeyed and shoved the offending fingers from his person. "What I had to say is not your concern, Estel, and that accusation is disgraceful."

"You did, didn't you?" shouted the Man, overcome by disappointment, humiliated to be shunned in favour of his brother. "You knew I wanted him; I told you last night. Why did you have to do it now? I trailed him all the way from the grotto to gain his favour. Couldn't you wait till I'd had him first?"

"Enough!" thundered Elladan, grabbing Aragorn by the arms, lifting and shoving him hard against the wall, pinning him there. "You're the one who assaulted him in the spa?" The memory of Legolas trembling in misery filled his mind. It took every ounce of his restraint to refrain from pounding the insolent Man into a bloody pulp. "What kind of person are you?"

"I never assaulted anyone! Release me!" Aragorn struggled to get loose, shocked and frightened by the murderous look in his brother's eyes, and kicked out, aiming for a very tender zone, but Elladan was very fast and evaded the strike. He pivoted, turned, and slammed Aragorn against the opposite wall. The Man groaned. "I never touched him, Elladan; if he said so it's a lie," the frantic young Dúnadan babbled out his explanation. "He was pleasuring himself and I just offered to do it for him, hoping for the same in return. I want to bed him, not force him!" he cried.

"Silence! Do not say such things!" Elladan was beside himself; he couldn't hurt Estel but even less could he abide these coarse references to Legolas. "If I ever hear you talk about him like that again I'll break something you might need one day, and break it past mending. Stay away from him!"

"Sídh, Muindoren, sídh!" implored a voice behind them. "Let him down, Elladan; that's Estel you're mauling!" It was Elrohir and his cool voice of reason reached both his brothers. Elladan dropped the Man and sheepishly mumbled an apology; Aragorn straightened his robe and offered a curt acceptance. They stood about in a disjointed knot of bewildered enmity. Elrohir advanced and took his twin's arm. "Elladan, what happened here? Fighting Estel for Legolas, when you both may have him, is madness."

"Nothing happened!" the elder brother exploded, tearing free and backing away. "Why do you both assume Legolas would let someone just…that he would want to be used like that?" He paced to and fro in barely contained fury. "And in public?"

"Muindor, I never suggested he…"

"No! I won't be placated," Elladan lunged back nose to nose with Elrohir, eyes flashing with outrage. "Legolas is not like that, I tell you, and you're both to stay clear of him." He turned and stormed away toward the hot springs, unable to trust himself not to punish them for their slurs and slanders.

"Elrohir, what's got into him?" demanded Aragorn, confused and more than a little frightened by Elladan's behaviour. "I swear I never laid hands on that ellon."

"I don't know," Elrohir said, deeply troubled by what he suspected might be happening to his brother. He did not want Elladan to fall in love with an ellon whose calling it was to love everyone and anyone. It would break his brother's heart. Quickly he decided on a plan of action. "Estel, go and see if you can find Legolas and learn how close the two have become. Try and convince him to renounce any promises to keep company with our brother."

"What?" Aragorn was stunned. "Why? Not that I'm complaining, but…"

"I'll explain later, Muindor, just do as I ask, please," Elrohir turned concerned eyes upon the young Man. For a moment, gazing into Estel's earnest countenance, he felt guilty for what he was about to do, but Aragorn was mortal and doomed to die. Elladan was not and never would if Elrohir had any say in the matter. He clasped his younger brother's shoulder firmly and then left, following Elladan into the depths of the fortress.

Aragorn gazed after him a moment then wheeled, determined to carry out his task, smiling at the mental images success would promote to reality.

Once the hallway cleared, the shut door opened and two heads peered cautiously out, examined the empty corridor in both directions, and then two Men emerged from the darkened room. They stood in silence regarding opposite ends of the passage and then shared a long look of salacious delight ere they parted and exited, one following Aragorn and the other the Twins.

They were delegates to the trade convention, of course, one from Dale and one from Laketown, indulging a carnal craving forbidden by their culture. Andaith had brought his lover here, thinking only to enjoy a thoroughly rousing round of sexual hijinx, and had come away with much more than the pleasant sense of relaxed fulfilment currently inundating his person. Having been insulted and mistreated by the Wood Elves, as he saw it, the petty Man was pleased beyond telling to have a means of embarrassing them in turn. Plus, he felt he'd found just the right diversion to distract the wily Elven King and gain the upper hand in the ensuing negotiations.

He knew who Legolas was; he'd been briefed on the Royal Family of Mirkwood prior to leaving Laketown. In mere hours the whole city was gossiping over the greatly exaggerated news of the prince's indiscretions with not only the Twin Lords of Imladris but their human companion as well.

All in all, it was shaping up to be a most interesting feast.
TBC

NOTE: Well, Legolas and Elladan shared something of a spark. Poor Aragorn has his work cut out for him. And if we didn't know it before, we now realise Andaith is the Bad Guy in the tale. Hope everyone enjoyed this update :D You guys are the very best and I am so glad of your friendship and continuing support.

Glossary:

Seron - lover, courtesan

Seryn - more than one courtesan

Seronath - all couretesans as a class

Baragûr - Fiery-heart

Andaith - a mark denoting a long sound for a vowel.

Ela! Elladan ar Elrohir, tultâ di gwa-lassiê - Behold! Elladan and Elrohir, come under the leaves. ( a traditional sylvan greeting in primitive elvish)

Brûn flad-en-gwaew, pedich farn - Old bag of wind, you speak enough (you talk too much)

melethron - male lover

Ernilen - My Prince

Elboron - Brave Star
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Ranger's Folly, Prince's Fate

Chapter Four: The Prince of the Woodland Realm