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Fifteen Years	By : Ertia Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 14168 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: This is not my garden. I just play in it.

Fifteen Years

Chapter 6: Namarie, Prince.

Thranduil and Legolas agreed that all must be done as much as secrecy as possible. In three days, the escort would arrive with the new courtesans, and leave with Mirie and Legolas, and there was little time to make arrangements and prepare.
Thranduil chose a loyal guard, Hereval, Legolas' own personal bodyguard from childhood, to ride with them. Officially, Legolas was going to train with the Galadhrim for a time, while Hereval was to take Ferdal's place in the Courtesanship Exchange. They would return together in fifteen years time. The kingdom and family accepted this explanation readily enough. All had wondered if someone would come forward and spare Ferdal. The older courtesan was much loved in Imladris, and none wished him sorrow or pain.
Arrangements were made in secrecy with Thranduil's best smith, and a collar was wrought and fitted, to be permanently placed on the morning the escort arrived. Mirie undertook to prepare Legolas as much as possible for his arrival in Lorien.

"Stand straight. Legs apart." She chastised again. "Remember, you will always be watched. Any time another is in the room, you must always be aware of their eyes upon you."
Legolas tried to stand straighter, balancing on the balls of his feet. Since he had sworn his oath, Mirie had become a stranger to him. The public facade she kept slipped away when he was alone with her and she treated him as her equal, instead of as a Prince such as he was used to.
"Eyes up, Legolas! Stop daydreaming!" She ordered lightly, her voice cutting into his musings. "I can assure you, Lord Celeborn will not tolerate such behavior. When you are in a room with him, your attention should not deviate from him for a moment."
Legolas felt a shiver run down his spine. "What is he like, Mirie?"
"You will love him." She answered dismissively. "What you must make sure of is that he loves you."
"Now, posture! Lower your head, and bow... Good. Again."

Legolas fell into his bed wearily. All thoughts of bedding anyone had fled. He was exhausted. Mirie was a fierce taskmaster, ensuring that he knew dance steps perfectly and that he knew how to bow; not as a prince who automatically had respect, but a servant who had to earn it. Hours of drilling about his sexual habits, and what he had done, how often and with whom had been coupled with lessons on hygiene, diet, proper exercise, even hair conditioner and fingernail buffing!
He was beginning to think that this entire thing had been a mistake. Still, he had to admit, he felt better prepared to face his new life after Mirie's intensive lessons.

Thranduil presented him with his formal contract, and the trade contract for Lorien. Legolas read it through, surprised when he read that he would receive five pounds of gold per year of service, to be paid at the end of contract, provided he fulfilled his terms.
When he glanced at his father, the King had shrugged. "I know. Most courtesan contracts are for eight pounds a year, but I had not intended to cease your royal stipend while in service."
Legolas gave his father a short bow, a smile flickering across his lips. "You are most generous, father."
Thranduil had merely harrumphed and dismissed him, leaving a rather happy prince to contemplate the sum that would await upon fulfillment of his contract.

When the time had arrived and the border patrol reported the approach of the escort from Imladris, he still couldn't help the jolt of terror he felt as he tidied his room for his absence. Mirie came to help him pack what he would need, and then stopped, and gave him a steadying look.
"Have you thought of a name?"
Legolas paused for a long moment. "I do not know. Everything I consider doesn't sound like me, somehow."
Mirie smiled and gave his shoulders a slight shake. "May I then name you?"
Legolas narrowed his eyes, wondering what she could possibly have come up with. "Do you have a idea?"
"You will have to be strong, Legolas. Currently, your name is that of something green, growing, and alive. For a while yet, you will need to have the stillness and strength of these stone walls." She reached out to touch the carved wall lovingly. "I think you will have to be Sarnlass."
"Sarnlass. Stoneleaf." Legolas said with a smile. "Yes, I like it. Just do not call me Sarnie."
Mirie laughed warmly before producing a small bundle. "Here. I've brought you a gift."
Pulling back the cheesecloth, Legolas smiled. It was a blank book, bound in red leather, and stitched neatly by his sister's hand. The paper was of Laiamel's make as well, he noted, sliding the fine pulp-pages through his fingers.
"I took the initiative to inscribe it." Mirie said softly, pushing open the pages.
Legolas looked down and read;

"My friend, over the next years, let your thoughts that you cannot speak aloud light upon these pages as if you were whispering in my ear. I shall think of you often, and when the time comes, and you are free, and I am free, perhaps you will think of me kindly."

Faithful Sun, Mirie.

He smiled at her, his churning stomach easing somewhat. "Thank you, Mirie."
"Use it well, Sarnlass." She replied with a gentle smile before touching his cheek gently. "Come along, friend, we have much to do."

Mirie stood by silently as Legolas entered the smithy. His father was already there and somehow his courage was bolstered as their eyes met. Thranduil swallowed hard, his own courage failing somewhat. He gestured to the low stool and spoke with as much command as he could muster. "Sit and gather up your hair."
Legolas did as he was bidden, gathering the yellow strands and twisting them onto his head. The smith stepped forward then, and tilted his head forward, dropping the collar over his head and bringing it closed around his neck. It was beautifully wrought, solid silver with three golden rings. A leaf pattern interwove around the entire length and in the center was Thranduil's signet.
Thranduil stood back as the smith worked, his fine fingers bringing the edges together and tightening the tongs around them as he lowered the heated brand, expertly welding the metal. Legolas grunted rather unflatteringly as the burning heat scalded his neck, and if he had been looking up, he would have seen Mirie softly rub at the back of her own neck in memory.
The moment would be ever etched upon his memory. The stinging burn, the smell of hot metal and the heaviness around his neck, all mingled with the roaring of the furnace, the clanging of the smith working at the anvil outside, and the knowledge that he had chosen this for himself. The searing pain was soothed by a cool, wet cloth, and then a soft salve. The smith stood back, and admired his work for a moment. "We're done here. It looks good, I think."
Thranduil smiled at the smith, and nodded his head. "Finer work the dwarves could not do, my friend."
Legolas stood up, turning his head this way and that, testing the unfamiliar weight. Mirie came to his side and draped his high necked cloak about him, fastening it over his collar. "This will hide it until we are out of the Wood. The weather is breezy enough none will take notice."
Legolas nodded, accepting the cloak.
"How do you feel?" She asked, her silver blue eyes wide with concern.
Legolas shrugged, trying to decipher how he felt. Was he different? He did not feel so. "I know not. It doesn't quite seem real."
"Legolas?" Thranduil said softly, clasping his sons shoulder, "They are arriving. It is time to go."
Thranduil greeted the escort at the main courtyard while Mirie and Legolas returned to gather their meager belongings from their rooms. When they arrived in the courtyard, kneeling before Thranduil was a beautiful black-haired elleth with eyes the colour of burnished oak. Behind her, awaiting his turn, a blond ellon wearing a striking collar of burnished bronze inlaid with black enamel stood with head bowed, his contract to Thranduil held lightly in his hands. Legolas looked closely at them. Neither seemed nervous or frightened, as Legolas certainly felt. And if he felt this nervous now, how would he feel when they reached Lothlorien?
"My word!" Mirie whispered to Legolas as they approached the horses, all notice of their departure gone by the wayside as all turned their interest to the newcomers. "That is Verdean, Galadriel's head Courtesan! I wonder however he ended up so far from her side?"
"No wonder he doesn't seem nervous." Legolas murmured in reply. They had reached the horses and tied their bundles when Hereval joined them. His hair was loose as well, and his cloak also concealing his throat, though for lack of collar, not to hide one.
"Come, Courtesans." A crisp voice spoke clearly. "I would be past the borders by tomorrow noon. We have far to go."
Legolas cringed as he heard the voice he had heard only a few times on his visits to Imladris. Turning his head, he found himself facing Lord Glorfindel, Seneschal of Imladris. The sudden stirring in his groin reminded him of the little blue book he had discovered in the library and he had to take a deep calming breath as he greeted the famed warrior.
Mirie, on the other hand, turned, dropped into a curtsey and smiled warmly, "Thank you, my lord."
Legolas mounted, only dimly aware of the appraising glance that Glorfindel ran over Mirie's form. The blond lord returned her smile with a suggestive grin. "So, Mirie! We meet again. You are for Imladris?"
Mirie nodded as the reborn Balrog Slayer himself gave her a leg-up into the saddle, her voice sly and not-so-innocent as she said, "Ai, my lord. I look forward to experiencing the wonderful fonts of Rivendell. Are they as great and powerful as it is said?"
Glorfindel gave a hearty laugh. "Well, my dear, you shall soon discover that for yourself." He paused as he looked at the other two riders, and made recognition. "Prince? You ride with me, for you know the dangers inherent in these woods better than any other."
Legolas nodded and urged his horse to the side of Glorfindel's golden palomino, its harness dripping with bells and its yellow mane and tail blending with the locks of the golden lord as he mounted and called the order, "Riders, Move Out!"
As they trotted under the archway, Legolas looked back over his shoulder, memorizing the scene. His father looked up and raised his hand in the traditional wave, palm inward, gesturing the riders back home. Legolas raised his hand as well and swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. He had been away before, he told himself. This was no different than the times he had gone to Imladris to train with their soldiers, or gone on trading missions to the north.
But the sudden heaviness at his throat and the stinging burn at the back of his neck told him this was very different. He left home not as a Prince, with all of his privileges and fineries, but as a servant. Beneath his cloak, his garb was plain cream linen, his hair was loose and unadorned, and around his neck, the collar whispered the word, 'courtesan'.

ta da!

---------------------------

Super special thanks to:

Manitou: for keeping my head firmly in America while my heart is in Middle Earth.

Emmess: Here! Here it is! I was gonna wait one more day to be sure it was perfect, but since you asked so nicely... Ya know, writing would be easier if I wasn't so distracted with visions of lovely Elf twins boffing it on the Shards of Narsil! :p

Nikkiling: Thanks so much for the compliment. I was a bit worried about creating this a/u aspect, but it's like Toress himself is whispering the Little Blue Book in my ear.
Tuxedo Elf: Wow! My best chapter so far? I was worried about it because the tone so far has been kind of light and fluffy, and it gets more intense from here on out. AND Orophin, too?!? How very greedy! :D

Analia: ;) Who is Toress really? Well, here it is.
I cannot tell. I was loaned the Little Blue Book in perfect confidence from it's author, who has long left the courtesan life behind and is a now a well respected Elf of power and position. I would not dare injure his reputation by disclosing his true identity. :)

MorierBlackleaf: YAY! Thanks so much for not letting the Het label scare you off! I promise there is MUCH hot, angsty slashiness ahead! There is much to happen before we cross into Lothlorien. And, uh, I'll pass that on to Legolas about the helping, kay?
Soda: The author is not to be held accountable for ruined keyboards, herniated stomach muscles, or any other possible damages from laughter. But I am thrilled that you are enjoying it. I'm afraid the next few chapters are a bit darker. Hot, dominant Haldir? hmmm... perhaps... :D
Minuial Nuwing: Thank you so much for the warm email. It made my day! And I'm glad you weren't frightened off by the het warning, either.
I'm trying to post one chapter a week, and trying to stay four completed chapters ahead of the postings. You all have made posting this little adventure so much fun! Big HUGS to all of you!!!
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Fifteen Years