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The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2097 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is the sole creation of JRR Tolkien. The characters in this story are, therefore, not mine, with the exception of OCs. I make no money with my writing, it is purely for pleasure.

Chapter List
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As the new day dawned, the royal party slipped into the house unnoticed. Each headed to their quarters, except for Glorfindel, who stayed with Legolas until well into the afternoon of the next day, resting beside him, watching over him as he sat out on the balcony in contemplative silence. Erestor had delivered the strange chest that had been left at the tree line from which Legolas had emerged. It was heavy, made of a deep red wood and what appeared to be antler, or bone of some kind. The carvings upon it were of the highest workmanship, intricate, twisted, almost in the likeness of the forest lord’s hair. It lay at the base of the bed, unopened for now.

Early evening saw a wet Legolas sitting before the dressing table, Glorfindel behind him, a look of deep concentration on his face as his fingers deftly picked out the adornments that had been worked into his hair.

There was already a considerable pile on the sideboard, with all manner of objects that Glorfindel had not been able to see that night. Just the weight of it all must have been difficult to bear, there were even river shells in there, a colorful rock and a chunk of moss for all that was holy! He was intrigued, delving into the twists and swirls of golden hair, wondering what on Arda the symbolism of it all was.

“Will you tell me, fair Legolas, of what happened in the glade?” asked the warrior, not really expecting a full telling, but trying anyway.

“One day, yes I will tell you, but today, and tomorrow, I must try to get it into some semblance of order, for I would not know where or how to start. Today I am lazy and pensive, preparations must be made for the next and final step, and my mind is astray.”

When Glorfindel did not make to answer him, Legolas continued.

“’Tis not for want of hiding the events from you, my love, for I have no reason to do so, yet I must prioritize now, I know you will understand when you see what is at hand. All I know, is that I love you above all others, would have you, my valiant Lord of Gondolin, by my side always” he whispered, gazing into Glorfindel’s brilliant blue eyes, opening his mouth to receive a passionate kiss that the warrior could not hold back.

“We should dress and at least make an appearance at dinner. My people will be puzzled at my disappearance, and you know how tenacious Galdithion and Henian can be.“, he added, as he rose and began to select his clothing for the evening, slowly but surely coming back to himself, out of the shell he had retreated into after their forest incursion.

“Oh yes, Elrohir and Elladan can vouch for that,” he snorted, as he followed Legolas to the wardrobe.

“This shirt is stunning, informal yet sensuous, of the highest quality weave, pale green will contrast with your new eyes, not to mention your new hair…”

“You sound like the royal tailor, Glorfindel”, chuckled the prince, slipping the beautifully-made tunic, designed to be worn open at the chest, showing just a hint of what lay beneath, erotic indeed. Black velvet breeches and a matching sash completed the outfit.

Sitting down again at the dressing table, he sighed as he observed his ‘new’ hair. A whim of Yavanna herself, he knew. He analyzed the dual layers, one thick undercoat of straight, silky hair, and a mass of twisted locks that made up the topmost layer, both reaching down to the small of his back. He would have to find new ways of harnessing it, in battle it would be a disaster to leave it loose, he thought then that he could actually kill himself if he did so, and at rest, well, he had never had hair this long, he simply did not know how to dress it.

Glorfindel watched his lover’s face as he peered at his hair. It was stunning to look at, a work of art, yet Legolas seemed irked with it. He, however, was mesmerized, for it was so exotic, he had never seen a style such as this, nor hair as long, except when he had gazed upon the face of Mandos.

Coming up behind his lover, Glorfindel began to try this, and that, until it occurred to him to gather up the entire upper layer and pin it high at the back of his head, now what to use to keep it there – a regular hair slide was nowhere near big enough to do the job, and so his eyes slipped to the collection of unlikely objects he had plucked from the mane earlier. Assessing the usefulness of each item, he finally reached for a length of vine and two carved twigs. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The silky cascade of straight hair was crowned with the thick twists, brought together in a high pony tail and secured by crossed sticks at the back – it looked beautiful, and he said as much.

“Yavanna has peerless taste, sweet king of mine, and you are so very alluring”.

“’Tis not bad, I admit. You must play with it more, see what you can come up with.”

“Oh I will, now, shall we eat?”

“Food?”he asked saucily.

“For now”, smirked Glorfindel.
…………………………………………………………………

The dining room was alive with chatter, laughter and high spirits, with just a touch of anticipation, for rumor had attacked yet again, and the absence of the lords, albeit for less than a day, was the object of brutal conjecture. Hence, every single elf was at the dining table this evening, to see for themselves the truth or otherwise of the stories.

Elrond had arrived together with Erestor, followed shortly by Galadriel and Celeborn. They sat at the table as if the soul-moving events of the previous evening had never taken place, no one would guess that they had all been changed, touched by the light of the Valar, had given their pledge to the deeds that lay ahead.

“I wonder at his aspect now, after a bath and a good sleep”, mused Erestor aloud, “if he arrives looking like he did last night, we will have a riot on our hands” he said, his intonation acute, belying the obvious understatement.

“Oh yes, that would be food for fertile dreaming this night, that is for sure”, snorted Celeborn, remembering the thin skirt, the body paint, his hair, those eyes. He had been bonded to Galadriel for many years, but that did not make him immune to the sexual allure of others. Indeed in elven society, fealty was not a requirement in a bonded couple; life was too long to make that viable in most cases. Celeborn knew that should he wish it, he was free to take partners, as was she. But this elf was kin, albeit distant, yet it was enough to make sex an impossibility. Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor though, he envied them, for having one such as he, this portent of nature, that must be an unforgettable experience.

Scant moments later, Legolas appeared with Glorfindel by his side, and the hubbub of conversation was promptly silenced.

It was the wood elves, they had been making the most noise yet now they were silent, as Galdithion and Henian rose and walked over to their prince, stopping before him and staring at his hair, his eyes – Galdithion’s head cocked to the side, almost of its own accord as he struggled with the reality that was before his eyes – this was his friend, his commander, yet now he saw something else, for a power radiated from him, a light even brighter than his usual aura – it was the same when it happened for the first time, yet he had not changed physically then. Now, though - and then he knew. He knew that it had come to pass, this was not Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm, this was the Lord of the Forests.

His mouth dropped open slightly as comprehension dawned and he hung his head, bowing low and staying there. Legolas moved and touched his shoulder, signaling his friend to rise. As he captured Galdithion’s eyes, Legolas smiled as if confirming his friend’s inner machinations, nodding only slightly, for now was not the time to proclaim himself, not until he received his father’s blessings.

It was Henian who stepped forward then, bowing equally now, rising, and then reached into his tunic, pulling out a small scroll which he handed to Legolas, a knowing smile on his contented face.

“Read it, my lord”, was all he said.

Puzzled, Legolas carefully took the roll from his friend’s hand and peeled it open, reading the first line of beautifully-written Tengwar.

‘My son, my prince, and now, King of all the woodlands of Arda’

The letter was long, and now was not the time to read it, yet the first phrase had said what he needed to know. His father recognized his new identity.

He raised a stunned face to his friend, the question was in his eyes, for his own letter would not have reached his father yet, this had been written before events had come to pass. His father had known, Galdithion had hinted at it already.

Now, it was Galdithion’s turn to nod subtly as he smiled and walked back to the table with Henian and the rest of the woodland folk who stared on, watching the flowing movement of their prince’s strangely long hair as he slowly walked to his place at the head of the table, wondering at the exchange that had just taken place.

Legolas sat with the lords at the head of the table, nodding at them all graciously as he sat beside Glorfindel and Elrond, rolling up the parchment and placing it to one side.

Conversation was slow to pick up again, but there was already a low murmur of voices as plates and dishes appeared from the kitchens, and the fine aromas of Gaerwyn’s exquisite creations wafted into the air, wine was poured as the tension almost visibly relaxed and the elves began to enjoy themselves.

“My father knew,” said Legolas as he took up his glass. He knew this would happen here and sent his blessings with Henian even as we travelled to Imladris.

“Then you are free to do this, he has recognized you as his equal?” prodded Glorfindel. He did not want to press the issue, he assumed that Legolas would have to read the entire letter before understanding what had happened.

“He has recognized me as king of the woodlands of Arda, as he puts it. Yet I must read the entire missive later”, he finished, serving himself with the steaming game that had been placed before him.

“Well, that is the short of it, I suppose” mused Erestor. Yet one cannot avoid asking how he knew…”

“Precisely”, said Legolas.

“Your eyes have been green since yesterday” remarked the lady. And it was true, they had not changed at all, at least in the time she had been with him, since he emerged from the forest.

“Yes, perhaps they will stay that way”, said Legolas with a calm voice. Truth be told he was a little perturbed at the physical changes that had been wrought on him. He had spent many centuries with blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair. Now he had green eyes, and his hair – well, it actually hurt his scalp it was so heavy.

His silence was not missed, as Elrond leaned forward a little, smiling kindly.

“You look lovely, Legolas”.

“Thank you”, he smiled. “I admit I look strange to my own eyes. Before, when my eyes would change to green, my sight suffered greatly, I could not see well at all, yet now I see just as well as I always have with blue eyes, and I can see my green eyes. And then this, he signaled to the twisted upper locks, not knowing what to say. “It is so heavy, can you imagine trying to slice an orc’s head off with this mass of… of… rope twisted around my head?” he was scowling now.

“Oh prince, I am sure we can find a solution to that. I can just see Llyn, or even fair Arwen fashioning some beautiful designs for you.

The lords chuckled as they imagined the ladies fussing over the long locks.

“Where is Mithrandir?” asked the prince then, for he had just realized that maia was not there.

“Mithrandir left this morning. He would not say where, but that he would return in a few days”, explained Elrond. He was accustomed to the comings and goings of the wizard and placed no importance on it.

“We should talk of the next step”, said Erestor. “You must tell us what you want us to do for the demonstration”, he prompted, for as Elrond’s chief advisor, the preparations would fall to him primarily, he knew.

“I would leave the planning of it to you, my friend. What I need is for the attendants to be outside, in the gardens after dinner, when the full moon is high. And speaking of attendants, we should invite anyone who is influential, Lord Cirdan, my own people, the list would be long…” he tapered off, thinking to himself now.

“How about this, my lord. We celebrate a formal banquet, followed by drinks and entertainment which would be set up in the gardens, and then the stage will be yours – does that sound acceptable?”

Legolas smiled. “Yes, very. Will you draw up a list of invitations? I will add those of the Woodland Realm of course.

“Then it is settled!” said Elrond, pleased with how easy it had been.

“How long will it take us to send invitations and expect their arrival?” asked Celeborn.

“Two weeks, perhaps”.

“Then we shall start diplomatic talks tomorrow, there will be time enough before the day arrives. Erestor, you will need to shine, for I will need you for both events. Your negotiating and organizational skills are second to none, and you will need to delegate.”

Erestor was already a little paler than usual, just the thought of all that responsibility was enough to weigh him down.

“If I may make a suggestion”, interrupted Legolas. “Lady Llyniel has much experience in the organization of woodland festivities. Perhaps she could work with you, Lady Galadriel in the decoration. Your Lindir and our Amanthor will work together to create the entertainment. Gaerwyn could speak with my people to create the menu and ensure the logistics. That would leave the invitation and reception of guests to you, Lord Erestor.”

“Well, that does sound a little better” he smiled, as the others chuckled back.

And so it was settled, Imladris, Lothlorien and Greenwood would come together to create an evening of combined cultural diplomacy and entertainment, as a backdrop to introducing Legolas in his new capacity as Lord of the Forests, it would be the perfect finishing touch to the Spring Festival.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Erestor had never been so busy, never in all his time in his capacity as chief councilor. Letters had been dictated, drawn up on the most exquisite parchment the Noldor could produce. Scribes had been set to the decoration of the missives, and then they had been sent by the fastest route they had - courier birds. And then he had drawn up the order of events for the diplomatic meetings between the Greenwood and Imladris. There were many proposals to discuss - the military alliance between Imladris and Greenwood was still not a formal reality - they were, to all effects and purposes, still not allied. And then the commercial agreements, what to import and export, cultural exchanges between artists, warriors, healers, the list was monstrous.

And then there was the ceremony itself. He had drawn up a story board of sorts, registering every meaningful moment and event of the celebration, yet he still had no idea what exactly they would be preparing for. He knew the guest of honour would be Legolas, that Elrond would introduce him in his new office, but what of this demonstration? He had no idea what that would entail - yet he needed a good excuse to have any luck in counting on the presence of the likes of Cirdan or Gildor. And so his dexterous mind had him scribbling notes furiously, calling for elves he would delegate this or that to, searching through the historical tomes of Imladris’ famous library.

He sat back for a moment and smoothed back his hair, blowing out a mighty puff of air and stretching his legs out from under the table.

He pondered then on the moment that fast approached. He was beginning to understand the magnitude of it, for this was akin to the crowning of Gil Galad, albeit only a handful of elves knew about it. But Legolas had returned as king of the forests, not of elves, yet the difference in his mind was scant. Gil Galad had a purpose – that of uniting Elvendom to fight against the darkness, and that he did. Yet Legolas’ destiny was imposed by the Valar themselves, and by restoring the king of men to Gondor, he would, in effect, be achieving the same purpose, only Erestor hoped that this time it would be for good, the darkness never to return.

He startled then, as his friend Maeron knocked, then poked his head around the door, Llyniel was with him.

“Lord Erestor, have we come at an inopportune moment?”

“Nay, Maeron, come in, take my mind off this infernal paperwork if only for a few moments.”

“Actually, my lord”, began Llyn, “I came to offer my services. I am experienced in the preparation of woodland festivities, and as this is to be a cross-cultural effort, I though perhaps I could help you.”

“Aye you can! Bless you sweet Llyn, and take a look at this” he said as he passed her the order of events he had drawn up.

As Llyn read through the document, Maeron sat, smiling empathically as he took in the piles of paper of varying sizes, the quills, the ink-stained fingers of their friend.

“You are busy”, said Maeron rhetorically.

“Yes, and you can blame your prince for that”.

Maeron chuckled, obviously aware of what was happening, although Erestor had not had it clear in his mind until then.

“You know then, what is to happen?” he asked the healer.

“I know, yes. Legolas came to us this morning. He did not say much, yet we know of what he speaks. We were there the first time she came to him, and I will tell you my friend, that that is a day I shall never forget, for to gaze upon the face of a Vala is most wonderous thing.”

Erestor smiled then. He had only seen her from a distance, yet the emotions her presence had wrought in him would never be forgotten.

“I saw her form, from a distance”, said the advisor, looking off into the distance, “she was tall and elegant, a flowing gown rippled around her, yet I could not see her face. But even so, I felt – I felt changed somehow”, his brow furrowed as he looked up at Maeron once more, finding him smiling beautifully.

“Then you know of what I speak; it accompanies you for the rest of your long days. It comforts you, gives meaning to your life, makes you a better elf.”

Erestor stared back at his new-found friend, his eyes alight as he tried to fathom it, for Maeron had also been a first-hand witness to her coming, he too had been changed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The day was warm as Legolas walked in the gardens with Henian and Galdithion. He had missed their company during his last few days in the valley, missed the friendship he had always enjoyed with them, for they were the few elves in whose company he could relax and be himself, without the protocol of high office.

His appearance had been a shock to all that had seen him. His people, his new-found friends – Melven, Gaerwyn, Brathiniel, Lindir, he had left them stupefied, even though he had washed the paint from his body and removed the adornments from his hair – with the help of Glorfindel – yet still he had been changed.

“Tell me, Legolas. Tell us, what… what does this mean for you and your future in the Greenwood? Must you leave?” asked Henian, for he had been thrown by the incredible events of the last few hours. Legolas had come to his people and explained what had come to pass. They had rejoiced, for sure, but then calm reasoning had brought to the fore what this really meant, for their prince, and for their nation, for they could not fathom their country without him, so loved and respected he was.

“Ai Henian”, he smiled, although it was not a smile of happiness, but of sympathy. “I do not know what to say, for I do not know myself. I hold to hope, and that the transition I must make will be gradual. I have faith that I will continue to guard our forests, aid my father and live under the trees of the Greenwood for a little longer. But a time will come when I must travel abroad and into my destiny, yet I hope that will be many years into the future, that I can enjoy the company of my very dear friends, your company, for I know not what I would do without your unconditional love”.

He held the watery gazes of his two friends, smiling genuinely now. For their love emanated from them like a beacon, he could feel it seeping into his pores, suffusing him with well-being and the true desire to serve, for he was as humbled by their devotion as they were of his regard.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Glorfindel had spent the morning restlessly pacing his study, for he knew not how to proceed in this. It seemed to him that events were escaping him, that he had no control over the what, when, or how. All he knew is that he had needed to give his lover time to assimilate his new status, to understand the onus of his destiny. He also knew there was nothing to be gained in pacing the room, and so he walked out into the gardens in the hope of finding his love there.

Sure enough, after ten minutes of wandering through the vegetation, he came across three sylvan elves, sitting cross-legged upon the grass, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled placidly as he approached them, sitting himself down beside Legolas, facing the prince’s captain and lieutenant.

Henian and Galdithion rose then, and turned to their prince.

“We will see you at the afternoon meal?” asked Galdithion.

“Aye, I will be there – I should train later, if you will join me?”

They nodded then, and left their friend in the company of Glorfindel, walking towards their warrior’s quarters.

Legolas leaned over to Glorfindel then, and kissed him fervently on the lips, watching for his reaction.

“I have missed you Glorfindel”, said Legolas simply.

As soon as he had uttered the words, he moved into the warrior’s magnificent body and kissed his neck.

Smiling down at the snuggling prince, he squeezed him tight.

“Will you not whisk me away and have your way with me?” asked the prince sweetly.

“No whisking away, I would have you up against that wall now, fast and hard.”

Legolas felt his body react acutely to Glorfindel’s words. He looked up and saw the wild expression on his lover’s face. He was serious, the realization made his blood pump even harder as he moaned his approval into the warrior’s neck.

“Do it then, have me. Take your pleasure, lord of Gondolin.”

Glorfindel’s jaws tightened as he tried and failed to control his pulsating body. Rising unsteadily, he all but dragged the prince into the corner of the gardens, pressing him up against the stone and verily ripping his tunic apart, and then his undershirt, opening the cloth wide and pushing it a way down the prince’s shoulders, effectively trapping his arms yet barring his magnificent chest.

He pressed his body against that of the trapped prince, grinding his confined cock against the prince’s, kissing him painfully, hands frantically touching and squeezing, now fumbling madly with the ties of Legolas’ breeches, finally losing patience and ripping them open, pushing them half way down his thighs.

Dropping to his knees, he engulfed the prince in one swift movement, making his lover jerk at the sudden onslaught. Legolas was drowning in the sensation, he could not breathe in enough air as he panted wildly, for Glorfindel was sending him into a spiral of feverish bliss. Trapped as his limbs were, he felt tied, immobilized, dominated as his body was used, and it was driving him into a frenzy as he bucked his hips, trying to fuck the mouth that was ravishing him.

Glorfindel was beyond reason now as he rose once more and turned the prince around, slamming him into the wall face first, holding him with one arm across his shoulder blades, as he yanked his breeches down to his knees. Kicking Legolas’ feet to the sides as far as his breeches would allow, he grabbed his steel-hard cock and skewered the prince in one, violent thrust, his hips slapping audibly against his lover’s muscled backside.

Legolas inhaled sharply, arching his back and throwing his head back, but Glorfindel gave no quarter as he began impaling the prince, thrusting with a force that was grinding him into the wall almost. Legolas could feel the warrior opening his legs wider, angling himself deeper as he realized Glorfindel’s face was right next to his own, his deep panting and grunting sending the prince into sexual madness as he began to moan and pant himself.

“Come inside me, come hard, my lord.”

This tipped Glorfindel over the edge as he released a strangled scream, thrusting once, twice, thrice, each accompanied by a stream of hot liquid.

Legolas could not get to his own cock as his arms were confined, he wanted to come with his lover, to pump himself and spurt his hot seed against the stone wall, but he couldn’t. He could feel Glorfindel releasing inside him, taking his pleasure, groaning deep in his throat as his seed finally stopped flowing.

He felt his body pulled backwards and down to the floor, allowing himself to be lowered. He was rolled onto his back, and engulfed once more. He knew he would last only seconds, but oh what seconds of ecstasy as he felt himself starting to come. Arching his hips skyward as far as he could, he felt Glorfindel cup his buttocks as he rode out the prince’s powerful orgasm, swallowing chaotic jets of hot seed.

…………………………………………………………..

After they had made themselves minimally presentable, they moved into each other’s arms. Legolas felt a wave of love wash over him then, and the need to put words to the sensation took over.

“That was incredible, Glorfindel. You are incredible, and I love you dearly.” Tears had sprang to his eyes as he spoke the words.

Glorfindel felt empowered then, strengthened by Legolas’ words, infused with a noble purpose and gifted with such a special lover. He felt perhaps that the Valar were rewarding him for his sacrifice and then years of faithful service, and he felt like weeping himself – he could have thrown out his arms and prayed to them for the kindness they had bestowed upon him; instead, he grabbed the prince and sprinted out of the shady corner and onto the green grass, whirled his lover round in circles as he laughed and shouted his joy to the heavens.

A distance away, standing on the ample balcony of Elrond’s library, two lords and a lady watched as the two elves rejoiced and frolicked in the gardens below, each with a placid smile upon their lips, and a turmoil of thoughts in their minds.
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The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests