Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Protege	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3382 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. I make no money by writing this story

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Dawn, and the promise of a splendid spring day brought a whirlwind of activity in the lower quarters of the Last Homely House. Upstairs however, things were slower to get under way. Its occupants returned to consciousness slowly, opening their eyes and ears to the calm and beauty of Imladris.

Legolas stirred, turning his face to the open window and sensing the sun and a light breeze on his face. He had been comforted by his people last night and felt marvelously relaxed and renewed, apart from the dull throb in his forearm. His cheek, still a little tender, had healed well, leaving only a slight bruise in its place.

He sat up and realised he was alone. Stretching his back, he pulled his legs over the side of the bed and began to rise. He was naked, as he usually was when sleeping, but when visiting he would normally don a shirt or loose sleeping pants. Ah well, good job nobody had thought to visit him yet.

He padded into the bathing area and began his daily ablutions, slipping into a pair of loose-fitting linen trousers once he had finished. It had been dictated that today would be for rest and relaxation, and Legolas would not disappoint. He wished to walk around the estate, familiarize himself with the house and its lands, visit the exhibition areas he knew existed, which contained articles dating way back to bygone ages, paintings, artifacts and weapons of warfare. He would visit the stables and the library, and perhaps go into the warrior’s compound and observe their activities. He was here to learn, his father had made that very clear, and this meant immersing himself in the every-day routines of the predominantly Noldorin elves that resided here. Of course, Thranduil had also made other things clear, such as observing strict protocol on formal occasions, and achieving as many export contracts for their woodland produce as he could. No small task, but one that would be most rewarding on a personal and political level. His father had every faith in him, he knew, but that did not lighten the burden. As part of his obligatory luggage, was his princely crown and gown, but the king had also insisted he took the attire for his other, higher status, in the event that he should be recognized in that capacity, although Legolas had already insisted that now was not the time.

Just then, a light knock at his door had him donning his brown silk overgown.

“Come”, he called.

A maid stood in the open doorway, mouth slightly open as she collected herself to carry out her assigned task.

“My Lord, do you wish to break your fast in your rooms, sir?

“That would be very agreeable, my lady.” Replied Legolas.

He was glad he was not required to dress and eat in the dining hall. There would be plenty of time for protocol, right now, he was hungry, and frankly too comfortable and relaxed to bother with minding exquisite manners.

“Very well, my Lord. Any special request for the kitchen, sir?”

“No, my lady. I will partake of what the kitchen has to offer. You have my thanks.”

“Of course, Prince. ‘Tis my pleasure to serve you.” She said then, a furious blush rising up her face from her neck, mortified to have actually said that and with the worst possible intentions one could deduce. She hurriedly curtsied and rushed to the kitchens, she had a report to give and a bet to collect!

After combing and braiding his hair informally, he dressed in brown suede trousers and a white shirt, leaving the first three clasps undone.

Still bare-footed, he moved over to the doors that lead out onto a large balcony and opened them wide, moving further out until he reached the railing, grasping it in his strong hands. The view from here was spectacular. Below, a portion of the courtyard could be seen, but then spanned out into the gardens immediately surrounding it. After this, trees and allotments where some kind of produce was obviously being cultivated. Further into the horizon, were the woods that surrounded the valley, and finally, the rocky cliffs, beyond which the multiple waterfalls raged.

He breathed in the sweet scent of nature, closed his eyes, and called out to it in greeting. All was well, there was no evil afoot and they were content, as they sang out their greetings to he who protected them.

“Is all well in fair Imladris this morning, young prince?”

Startled by the courteous interruption, he opened his eyes and turned his head to the right, where he found a tall, grey-clad man, leaning on a gnarled staff, looking back at him from the neighboring balcony.

Mithrandir was momentarily startled by the brilliant green irises. He had not meant to startle the creature, but could think of no other way to break the silence than to comment on what he had sensed. He had wanted to catch the prince alone since he had arrived the previous evening, but had not had the chance.

After a few seconds, Legolas broke his silence.

“Istar?”

Momentarily taken aback by the elf’s astuteness, he replied with a simple nod of his head.

“You are the protégé of Manwe, are you not?”

“Aye, that is so, young prince. And you? Who is your protector? For you have one, do you not?”

Now it was Legolas’ turn to be taken aback. He had not counted on the presence of a Maia, he would, of course, see right through him, well almost, perhaps.

“I am not inclined to speak of it at present, I hope you will forgive my impertinence, my lord.”

“Of course, well I am sure you have your reasons, know only that as one protégé to another, come to me if you need the help of an old man.”

Legolas smiled at the wizard who he had now decided was most kindly, and if he could indeed, keep Legolas’ secret until such time he deemed it necessary to speak, then the Maia would be a very good ally indeed.

“That I will, eh..?”

“Oh, Mithrandir, Olorin, Gandalf, Stormcrow...”

“Alright, my friend,” chuckled Legolas. “I think I understand!”

“Well-met then, young prince.”

“Indeed my friend, very well met.”

And with that, Mithrandir turned and entered his rooms.

So it was true, he had not denied it. He was a protégé, just as he himself was. Indeed Galadriel had been right, but that still left them with the question of who his protector was, and even more importantly, what his purpose was. For all protégés were chosen with a purpose, a task to perform or a destiny to fulfil. To this, he still had no answer, but he had a report to give, and a bet to claim.

Legolas had been called in from the balcony by another knock at the door, which revealed a different maid carrying a tray laden with enticing fare. However, she faltered as Legolas drew near with the intention of relieving her of the burden. He caught the tray just in time before it could crash to the floor. Apologizing profusely, she curtsied and dashed from the room, covering her quivering lips with a dainty hand, she had a new dress to claim!

As Legolas made swift work of his breakfast in the privacy of his chambers, downstairs in the main hall, the lords of Imladris, together with their advisors, chief military leaders and friends, were having breakfast together. There was an air of anticipation in the air, and the weather was beautiful, what a day this promised to be!

For Elrohir and Elladan, they were on a mission. They had heard the reports they had ‘requested’ and were even now, plotting subtle revenge on their general for having misled them. Their other mission was to make the acquaintance of the prince, if that is, they could get him alone. And then of course, Elrohir had a dress to deliver...

Elrond sat at the head of the table as usual, flanked by Erestor and Glorfindel, who were quietly talking together. During a lull in the conversation, they began to pick up on a conversation taking place further down the table.

“And where would the fair prince be?” huffed a warrior sitting further down the table. “Will he not grace us with his presence this morn?” He added, inspiring subtle chuckles from his fellow warriors he sat with.

Elrohir looked at the warrior, Melven was it? He had picked up a subtle disdain in the warrior’s tone. But before he could say anything, Gorfindel began to speak.

“He is resting, Melven. You will meet him tomorrow no doubt.”

“Twas only a skirmish with orcs, my lord. Perhaps he is not accustomed.”

Elrond knew this kind of conflict would arise, although most of his citizens were favorably inclined to this attempt at brotherhood with the Greenwood, some of the older warriors would undoubtedly reject the supposed superiority of the woodland warriors, and specifically the prince. He knew that tact was the best option right now, but that did not mean he would take impertinence from a lieutenant.

“Melven, where were you during the “skirmish”?. Inquired Elrond.

“I brought up the rear guard, my lord, protecting our troops at the back.”

“And how many orcs would you say were involved in the ‘skirmish’?”

“Oh I would say around forty at the most, my lord.”

At this, Glorfindel raised his eyebrows. “No wonder you call it a skirmish, Melven, but I would advise you to be more observant of the battles in which you participate, one of the reasons why you are assigned the rear guard my friend.”

Elladan and Elrohir looked to the ground, for they felt embarrassed for their fellow warrior. They knew him, although not well. A good warrior, but very set in his ways, he always had difficulty accepting orders from those younger or less experienced than himself.

Elrond continued. “Melven, we do not call a charge of one hundred orcs a skirmish, not in Imladris, ‘tis called a battle,” he instructed, emphasizing the last word and cocking his head to the side.

“Melven”, Glorfindel continued.” I will have no bad feelings between my warriors and those of the Greenwood. Do I make myself clear on this lieutenant?”

Melven looked to his general, tipped his head and replied.

“You do my lord. But with all due respect, I would have the woodland warriors earn our respect, rather than for us to take it for granted.”

“That is for you to decide Melven, I require only that you show due respect for a prince and his people.”

With that, Melven nodded to his superior, and turned his attention once more to his fellow warriors, low snickers could be heard from the group as Melven reluctantly stabbed at a sausage on his plate.

“We will have problems with him before the end,” marked Erestor. “He needs to learn his lesson and I believe he will be forced to learn it the hard way.”

“Then let it be so, for I would have him learn it. He is an able warrior,” replied Glorfindel.

Talk continued well into the morning until finally, Elrond rose and bid good morn those in the hall, making his way to the healing wing. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and many preparations were to be made for the Spring Equinox Festival and opening ceremony to the gathering.

..............................................

Mithrandir wandered down the corridors of the upper floors of the house. He had, originally, intended to seek out Galadriel and inform her of his findings so far. However, he was for some reason, compelled to respect the forest prince’s wishes of not disclosing his status as a protégé. He had said the time was not right, and Mithrandir just happened to agree with that. This festival was of the utmost importance – Thranduil would come out of his self-imposed exile, the two realms, and, he hoped, Lothlorien, would be allies, joining against he who would bring doom to Middle Earth. Indeed he perceived that this event was somehow a precursor to the task he had been assigned, fundamental to his purpose in Arda. And so he took the ample staircase down into the courtyard and the gardens beyond, taking out his pipe from his robe pocket as he walked.

With breakfast finished, Glorfindel found himself with nothing to do. He had overseen everything, his only remaining job would be to visit the barracks later in the day. He could think of many things to do with his rare free time, and all of them included the enigmatic forest warrior, Legolas. Dare he seek him out and offer him a guided tour of Imladris? Well he was Glorfindel, damn it all, of course he dared. A determined look invaded his strong face, his jaw set and his eyes alight with the fire he felt in his soul.

Reaching Legolas’ rooms, he knocked a little too brusquely, over compensating for his state of controlled anxiety.

The door opened after a few seconds to reveal a smiling, jolly-faced and almost puerile prince. He seemed inordinately ecstatic for one who had spent the morning in his rooms eating breakfast, none the less he was delighted at the almost mischievous expression the elf wore,

“May I”, he ventured, gesturing inside the room.

“Come, lord Glorfindel, tell me you are here to show me the marvelous gardens of Imladris!”

“Well, my Lord, I had thought to invite you for a walk and to help you with any questions you may have, it that is agreeable to you, that is.” He ventured, looking at the prince to gauge his reaction. He truly wanted to know if his invitation would be accepted through courtesy, or whether he indeed wanted him, Glorfindel, as a companion for the day. He was not disappointed as Legolas’ face lit up in genuine gladness.

“’Tis settled then. Please sit while I finish dressing.”

Moving into another room of the suite, Legolas put on his deep green tunic, his boots, and returned to the living-room, where Glorfindel was staring reverently at the pack of weapons beside the bed, for from its depths protruded a dagger handle which brought unshed tears to his eyes as soon as he chanced to see it. The handle was crafted from silver with gold worked intricately around it. There were amethysts inset into the precious metals, all in a swirling design that was all too familiar to him, for it marked the house of the Silver Tree –

“Legaelair...” he whispered, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

“You knew my great grandfather, then, Glorfindel?” asked Legolas softly, understanding that their relationship must have been special.

“Aiya but I knew him well Lord Legolas,” he said, eyes cast down and sideways, as if visualizing something from the past. “He was one of such heart-breaking beauty – of the soul and of the face, and alas I perished before we could come together in the way of lovers, Legolas. And yet I am glad of it”, he added then, as he turned his gaze on the prince, “for had I not, you would not be here.”

As if surprised by his own monologue, he snapped to attention, realizing what he had said.

Legolas held his gaze for eternal seconds, and then he smiled, he smiled the most radiant expression of joy that Glorfindel had ever seen. No he was not offended, nor was he intimidated, he was flattered, and Glorfindel rejoiced with everything he was.

However, the mood needed to be steered away from its current direction, and so Glorfindel broke the magical moment and boldly approached the watching prince.

“Come, the trees await the presence of a wood elf!” he exclaimed, clapping Legolas on the shoulder and walking from the room with the unspoken invitation to join him.

Falling in with Glorfindel, Legolas pondered on what had just happened. Oh he was more than a little attracted to the renowned warrior, but was somewhat disconcerted with his own strange behaviour, for he showed no sound or reasoned judgement when it came to Glorfindel, he was all too ready to believe anything he said, all to willing to see the good things and discard any of the bad things. What was wrong with him? He had taken many lovers to his bed over the years, females, males, both, and had even dabbled in some of the less-accepted arts of pleasure, yet he had never been rendered an amateur by any, and yet his good judgement was under fire whenever he was in the presence of this revered elf.

And with that final though, Legolas stepped onto the green grass of Imladris for the first time, together with Glorfindel of Gondolin, friend of his great-grandfather and who threatened to become so much more to him.
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The Protege