by erobey
unbeta'd

For Lyn: With Best Wishes for a Wonderful Holiday

NOTE: Here is the first of the Xmas fics. I am writing them and posting them in the order the requests reached me, so please do not be offended if yours isn't done yet. I am starting to post them now because I realise it may take me longer than hoped, and some of the stories may not be done by Xmas. They WILL be done and I will post them up as soon as each one is finished. This means Aearlinn will be on the back burner for a time, because as all of you know, this (27000 words) is a short fic for me. So count on the rest being around the same length, too. I hope this makes sense and folks understand. Once all of the stories are complete, I'll probably gather them under one heading on the website, but for now they will just appear in the Table of Contents like the rest, placed at the top. And now, on with the story:)


"They are a proud people and rightly so, for they are fiercely protective of their homeland and every living thing under the eaves of the forest. They are not so different in this from us and in the beginning we were all one people. If our fate had placed us in like circumstances, you and I would be just as they are. Remember this in all your dealings with the Wood Elves: their King is my own kinsman; we share the same blood. Honour him and all he holds dear just as you would me."

So Lord Celeborn had spoken in earnest and forthright tones, his expression grave while his cool grey eyes were alight with a gleam that only came upon them when he was engaged in narrating a tale from his youth when Doriath was the mightiest realm in Arda. It had been easy to accept the truth of his words, to hear the overtones of nostalgic appreciation for what once was, to respect the ties of blood he held in such esteem.

Haldir had never intended to do otherwise.

He noticed the golden elf right away. Who could fail to mark him? Haldir was certain there was no more compelling being in all of Eru's creation. The attraction exceeded perfection of face and form, though such quality was undeniable; there was something about the archer that drew more than his eye. Previously, the March Warden would be the first to scoff in derision at claims of instantaneous recognition of one's soul-mate, but now he could think of no other words to describe what he felt whenever Legolas was near or, indeed, whenever he was distant.

Legolas. That was his name, a tribute to the ancient tongue of his sylvan mother, Haldir had discovered, kin to the very people who had migrated to Lothlorien so long ago. That was all he'd had opportunity to learn, for the dangers of the mission precluded socialising on more than a perfunctory level. Even so, Haldir found himself reliving their one brief conversation over and over.

"Three scouts, half-league due east," whispered the woodland elf, landing lightly on the branch next to Haldir. He was himself a scout, breathing hard from a swift race through the canopy here in the gloomy environs of Mirkwood near Dol Guldur.

"Arrows or swords?" Haldir managed from a mouth gone suddenly dry. The archer had sidled down onto his belly right next to the Lorien warrior and the heat and scent of his body was having an unexpected effect. Physical allure Haldir knew how to handle and had total control over his body's reactions, but quelling the veritable geyser of exuberance erupting within his faer, an entirely new experience, was an impossible task.

"Archers on wargs," answered the Mirkwood scout. "They'll be here anon for I gave them reason to follow." He glanced at his counterpart and a small frown creased his brow; the elf seemed distracted, as though dreaming. "Make ready your bow."

"Aye, they'll not get past this point," Haldir replied, embarrassed to be caught staring and uncomfortable to realise his heart was hammering, the sound like the raucous pounding of hooves when elk herds migrated across Talath Rhosg (Brown Land). As he nocked an arrow, the golden elf moved to a lower branch, verily flowing from one to the other with the smooth and silent motion of a snake. His bow was armed in seconds following the reposition and Haldir watched in fascination as tension rippled across his shoulders and back.

The March Warden didn't even realise he was staring again, eyes tracking the motionless form and indelibly recording every detail upon his senses. Sunlight dappled the shining crown of the flaxen mane; a thick lock slid away from the rest and hung freely out into the empty air. The movement exposed a delicate ear tip, pink from the recent exertion. Shadow and sheen played over the fitted tunic and leggings of muted green and tan; a minute strip of pale apricot skin was revealed where the top had ridden up due to the extreme extension of the warrior's arms as he prepared to shoot. Below that small gap, a tight, compact, perfectly round rear joined finely muscled thighs. A sudden spasm flexed through those powerful sinews followed by the distinct zing of a bowstring's release.

A grunt preceded the demise of the Orc and its mutated mount went down next. The Greenwood scout was already firing again before Haldir even had the beasts in his sights and killed the second set as well. By then Haldir finally managed to locate the last of the three and dispatched these before the Orc could escape and report on the presence of the elves so close to the Necromancer's abode.

"Two for me!" announced the golden elf with obvious glee, righting himself and flashing Haldir a radiant grin. He leaped back to the higher branch and crouched beside the Lorien elf, appraising him with curious but friendly interest. "I am Legolas, one of Ernil Gildin's archers."

"Mae govannen, Legolas. That is an ancient name seldom heard for the language has died out, or so I was told."

Legolas shrugged. "It has not vanished from Greenwood; it is the speech I learned at my Nana's breast."

"Then that explains your melodic accent," Haldir smiled and placed his hand over his heart. "Haldir o Lothlorien, March Warden to the Lord and Lady. My herth is located two leagues back, due north toward Thranduil's stronghold." Haldir was pleased to have such an impressive title to announce, though prestige had never been an issue for him before, and felt a warm glow surround his heart as the ellon's expression registered due appreciation for encountering so esteemed a warrior.

Before more could be said, the brusque caw of a raven distracted Legolas and he rose. "My brother calls; I must go and make my report. Farewell, Haldir o Lorien."

And just like that, he was gone, slipping into the high canopy where cunning, stealth, and the shielding multitude of green leaves rendered him invisible.

For two days the combined forces of Mirkwood's prince and Lothlorien's March Warden had been inching ever closer to the vile obstruction marring the once peaceful and bountiful woods sprawling over the rolling hillocks on the edge of the valley of Anduin. In Ages past, the region had been a thriving colony of Greenwood, Amon Lanc, until the advent of the dark sorcerer's arrival. His army of Orcs had swept into the forest and invoked such bitter and bloody warfare that the elves had at last fled, crossing the narrow strip of open land, plunging through the icy waters of Nimrodel, stopping only when the heart of Lothlorien was reached. Now the Necromancer kept both forest realms under his constant surveillance, though Galadriel's Ring prevented his eye from piercing the boundaries of the Mallyrn, and his ever increasing legions preyed upon the Wood Elves freely. The way was no longer safe between the divided country; distance and danger had isolated the once united people.

That was not a condition preferred by either Celeborn the Wise nor his distant kinsman, Thranduil the Bold; though, kings Amdir and Oropher had not seen fit to bridge the widening gap between them. The Sindarin ruler had presented to the White Council his intention to cast down the Black Tower, only to have the plan rejected by Saruman and his cohorts, notably Elrond of Imladris, Galadriel of Doriath, and Círdan of Mithlond. Those three were considered Noldorin folk and Thranduil had made certain to be plain in his criticism, linking their dissent to their heritage and history of abusing the Telerin elves. The slighted King withdrew to his cavernous fortress and broke off what little contact he had maintained with the rest of elvendom after the Last Alliance.

The meeting ended bitterly but Lord Celeborn had not sided with Saruman. In secret he communicated to his cousin the desire to see the endeavour succeed and Thranduil had responded enthusiastically, requesting whatever aid the Lord of the Golden Wood could spare. To that end, Haldir had been dispatched to Greenwood with a large contingent of warriors: three full troops of archers and spear-bearers, each 120 strong. They had evaded the Necromancer's detection by travelling over Hithaeglir and back, crossing west through Caradras and returning east through the High Pass and the ford at Carrock.

Haldir and Gildin had met at the forest gate and the prince had led the Lorien soldiers deep into the heart of Greenwood. Though the March Warden had seen and met many Wood Elves, including the Sindarin King, not until the assault was launched had he observed the golden elf who so quickly and completely took up residence within his heart and soul.

What to do about it was a quandary that had occupied Haldir's mind unceasingly since that moment.

There was Legolas, not more than a tree's width distant, perched on a narrow talan beside a second woodland warrior. Haldir could easily leap the gap and initiate a conversation, yet he hesitated. What if the golden elf had no wish to expand their brief acquaintance? Perhaps the sensation in his surging soul was not reciprocated. No sooner had the thought occurred than Legolas glanced over at him, met his eyes, and smiled, a soft blush racing to his ears as he looked away.

Haldir's heart was pounding again and he forced his features into a stern mask lest anyone discover his secret desire. As luck would have it, Legolas chose that instant to take another furtive peek, eyes widening in surprise ere he quickly turned from the forbiddingly haughty expression. Silently, Haldir cursed every Vala he could think of for this misfortune. Now he would have to work doubly hard to convince the archer to consider him. The prospects of winning this glorious creature seemed bleak, judging by the interaction between Legolas and the other woodland archer.

The warrior was obviously much older and addressed the golden elf in a distinctly proprietary manner. Haldir watched as he insistently queried Legolas as to the reason for his inattention and sudden black mood. The charges were vehemently denied and the two argued over some minor point regarding the fletching of Legolas' arrows. While the older one's tone was critical and insistent, his posture and demeanour were familiar and openly possessive. In return, Legolas was rather flippant and dismissive while simultaneously following every suggestion his comrade made.

The March Warden was unclear if this unknown person was a brother, a father, or, worst of all, a lover. He hadn't thought far enough into his new status, that of determined suitor, to imagine he might have a rival for his heart's fulfilment. The realisation was both a profound shock and a source of intense jealousy.

Abruptly, the older elf turned and fixed his gaze upon Haldir, glanced back at Legolas, then resumed his study of the March Warden, his stare narrowing into an expression of open menace. He positioned himself so to prevent his companion from catching sight of Haldir, missing the swift dip to the side Legolas made to snatch another glimpse of the Lorien elf, and then announced they were required to report to their captain. To this Legolas objected half-heartedly before relenting, and the pair left the area.

Haldir didn't care; well, not overly much. Legolas had sent him a mischievous smirk and an impossibly fast wink in those few seconds that the older warrior's back was turned. The March Warden was unaware of the star-shot quality of his giddy grin or the number of his comrades who noted it.

"Muindor, are you walking in Dreams?"

This query was accompanied by a sharp nudge in the side that finally gained Haldir's attention. His assailant was Rumil, his youngest brother, and so the March Warden graced him with an equally forceful shove and an irritated frown.

"No, I am thinking on a matter of great importance. I realise that is not an activity you engage in frequently, Rumil, yet you should know better than to accuse me of idle wool-gathering."

"I did not say it was an idle dream, Haldir," defended Rumil. "I only wish to help. What is it, or should I ask 'who' is it, that has you so distracted?"

"Thank you for your magnanimous offer, but this is something I must handle on my own."

Silence fell between them and Haldir fell once more to pondering how to approach Legolas while Rumil kept watch over his brother, concerned over this complete alteration of personality. Never had the duty-driven March Warden expressed anything but indifference at best and contempt at worst for the softer sections of the heart and soul. Love, he often scoffed, was nothing but an instinct required for preservation of the species. A soul-mate was but a glorified bed-mate, nothing more nor less.

As to bed-mates, Haldir had enjoyed many; this Rumil knew well, yet none had come near to the March Warden's soul. Had this elf been about to become only the latest to fall prey to his brother's legendary libido, Haldir would have acted at once, minding not at all if the stern-looking sylvan warrior was already involved with the slender blonde archer. No, what worried Rumil was the notion of Haldir falling for this particular elf.

"Haldir, I have no doubt you can manage your own affairs, but that elf you're drooling over can never be more than a passing fancy. He will remain in Mirkwood and we will go home to Lothlorien. Besides, I've heard some talk. Subtle disfavour clings to him but no one will elaborate. Bed him and be done with it for there can never be more."

The March Warden turned to stare at his brother, completely taken aback by such a statement. "I was not drooling, Rumil, and I am stunned to hear you suggest so base a course of action. I want that elf and not for just a night. Would you begrudge me the chance to find happiness as you have done?"

"No, but that is not the elf to give you lasting happiness."

Before Haldir could demand an explanation, the warbling song of a wood thrush alerted them to the arrival of the Wood Elves upon whom they'd all been waiting and the March Warden signalled his troops to make ready. He moved cautiously forward, bow drawn and armed, Rumil shadowing him.

Today would make the third attempt to breach the defences of the Necromancer's Tower. The previous attacks had been repulsed before the elves came within sight of the broad black base of the stony spire and while no immortal lives were spent, injuries were extensive. The Orcs were well armed and well trained and now the element of surprise, which Haldir doubted had ever existed despite the stealthy woodcraft of the sylvan fighters, was lost. Gildin had called for replacements and reinforcements, positioning a full third of Greenwood's forces at key points around the perimeter of Dol Guldur. All were predicting vigourous resistance and casualties were expected to be high. Most of the Mirkwood elves had spent the hours before hand in ritual soul cleansing, the soft, sombre song of their prayers filling the air, preparing themselves to bargain with Námo, Lord of the Dead.

If this sortie failed, the prince would call an ordered retreat and the elves would regroup to consider other options, but Haldir was uncertain if he would be willing to place his warriors in danger again. The Necromancer's citadel seemed invincible and the sorcerer himself never needed to come forth, having an unending supply of expendable Orcish soldiers to send into battle. Some fifty Lorien archers and even more among Greenwood's warriors had already been wounded, some seriously. The March Warden was loathe to have that number increase and determined to preserve his people from death. While that was foremost on his mind, running beneath was a growing fear that Legolas could be among the losses tallied at the end of the day.

Then the signal came and Haldir deployed his forces, moving in an oblique feint to decoy the Orcs from Gildin's warriors and the main attack. It seemed to be working and the din of battle included much foul profanity in Black Speech as the demons met their ends at the hands of the gifted elven archers. Then just as quickly a commotion erupted on the March Warden's left flank and his troops were split as a small group of woodland warriors sped amid the branches, briskly pursued by lance-throwing warg riders. The Wood Elves were not in rout and periodically paused to fire upon the enemy, but they were not able to remain in fixed positions as the Orcs filled the air with their black bolts.

Haldir quickly reorganised, calling orders and absorbing the fleeing elves into his herth, establishing a counter attack that gained the Greenwood soldiers some breathing room. Yet even their combined efforts failed to halt the advancing glamhoth and the Lorien commander soon found himself being pushed toward the Dark Tower. This deflection would leave Gildin's forces vulnerable and he whistled a message of warning which was taken up and passed amid the canopy until it vanished; the battle was lost. With no hope of reaching the prince and the main body of the combined army, Haldir made a bold decision and ordered all his archers to turn and fight, for they must either break through or be taken prisoner in Dol Guldur.

The struggle was desperate and Thranduil's elves fought with such ferocity that Haldir hoped for a few moments that they would turn the tide. He clearly heard one of the sylvans exhort his fellows to defend the prince and felt a strong surge of approbation for such loyalty. Dearly he wished to give aid to the King's son, but it was not to be. In small groups the warriors ascended to the heights of the canopy and melted into the forest, and Haldir did what he could to hold back the unending swarm of Orcs pouring from the Necromancer's lair. At last it was over; every warrior was beyond the reach of danger and the sounds of war diminished. Haldir arrived at the meeting place, an outpost surrounding a small village of humans, to hear a familiar voice raised in strident argument.

"Nay, you must let me go to my brother! I cannot abandon him to Dol Guldur!"

Haldir caught his breath and Rumil, who had not left his side during battle, clearly heard. He watched in displeasure as the austere and solitary March Warden, known for his taciturn nature and brusque manner, forced his way through the crowd of Mirkwood warriors. Following him, Rumil perceived two Wood Elves physically restraining a third, who was injured but not so badly that he was unable to give them a good fight. Into this conflict Haldir inserted his formidable presence.

"What is happening here?" he demanded, eyes flickering over the elf and taking in a bleeding gash on the archer's thigh with alarm, for the restrained warrior was Legolas. "Unhand him; surely you can see he needs aid for that wound."

"Aye, we see and are attempting to do just that. Attend to your own and leave us to do the same. This is not your concern, March Warden. Ai!" The elf who answered, the very same warrior at Legolas' side earlier, received a solid kick in the shins for his insolent words.

"Let me go! I command it!" Legolas shrilled. "Gildin needs me!"

"Nay, Ernilen, you cannot command me thus for I am acting on previous orders given by your father," answered the other elf still busy trying to subdue Legolas' writhing body. "Be still and let me have a look at the injury for it is likely to be poisoned."

"It is not poisoned; I would know," retorted Legolas. "Galion, you must let me go to Gildin now!"

"I must do nothing save obey the commands of my King, who also happens to be my dearest friend. You know he has placed you under our authority. Would you have me betray such a trust? Have faith in Gildin's skill, Legolas; he will return to you."

"Aye, and I'm willing to bet he'll return unscathed, for he is not reckless and foolhardy," the kicked one admonished.

"I am neither of those," seethed Legolas, finally tired out as blood loss drained his energy. He became still and leaned upon Galion. "Someone had to distract those Orcs from Carnil else he would have perished."

"And was there no other elf in the vicinity that you had to risk yourself?"

"Enough," scolded Galion, sending his cohort an admonishing glare. "There is no need to berate his good heart, Sirion. Legolas is young; he cannot help his desire to aid his friends even at his own expense."

"Then may I never grow old if doing so means I will lose that desire," growled Legolas, though he knew that wasn't what Galion meant.

Now through all this Haldir had remained quiet, staring as one struck senseless as the scene unfolded, stuck on that reference to his golden elf as 'Ernilen'. For that he was unprepared, having taken Legolas for a common soldier of the Woodland Realm. Before he could move beyond the implications of this information, Legolas suddenly shook free of his captor, who had loosened his grip in response to the prince's docile attitude, and bolted into the canopy.

"Ai! You let him get away!" shouted Sirion, taking off after Legolas while having no doubt he would never catch him. It would be upon his head should the King's youngest fall into enemy hands and, besides, the worthy elf loved his young charge like a son, for Sirion had been Legolas' personal guard since the prince's birth. He called behind him as he moved, urging Galion's aid to surround the headstrong archer, and the Mirkwood elves climbed into the upper branches in pursuit.

Haldir and Rumil soon found themselves standing alone and now the younger Lorien elf decided to speak, for here was the perfect means to end this ill-fated obsession before it could prove detrimental. Before he could even begin, Haldir spoke.

"What am I to do now, Rumil? My golden elf is a prince of the realm and far beyond me."

"Valar, Haldir! 'Your golden elf' is King Thranduil's youngest; how could you not know?"

"Do you mean you did know?" Haldir was flabbergasted. "When did you meet him and why didn't you mention it to me?"

"I was assigned to Gildin's scouts, remember? Legolas was among them. I did mention it to you only it seems you were not listening very well."

"You said you were impressed by the prince. How was I to know there was more than one? Gildin did not reveal to me that he had a brother among the forces assembled, nor did Legolas mention that the brother he serves with is Thranduil's heir."

"It is as well you realise this now," Rumil counselled, "Legolas is not the one for you, muindor. Even if he felt anything for you, which is unlikely, his father would gainsay any permanent bond. And I say again, some pall hangs over him which none will explain."

"How can you say this?" demanded the March Warden. "You know nothing of Legolas; how can you demean his character so?"

"The folk of Greenwood are proud," insisted Rumil, "otherwise this lesser prince's failings would not be hidden. Even so, enough bad feelings exist to make it plain even to strangers. Whatever he has done is not condoned by his people and his father set two watchers to oversee him on this mission."

Haldir opened his mouth to object but a slight rustle above them precluded further debate. As the brothers turned their eyes upwards they beheld the very elf under discussion climbing awkwardly down to their level. Legolas was panting for breath and soaked in sweat and kept all weight from the injured leg. He nearly fell into Haldir's arms and groaned as he clutched the March Warden for support.

"I think it may be poisoned after all," he mumbled and promptly lost consciousness.



Legolas felt a great pressure upon his chest such that it was a struggle to breathe. It was as though the weight of a mountain bore him down and he fought to get from under the suffocating force. He discovered he was unable to move either arms or legs and panic flared through his mind. In vain he tried to call out for aid, unable even to open his eyes and see what villainous trap had him so skilfully bound.

Was I captured? Is this the dungeons of the Necromancer's lair?

His heart gave a tremendous surge and at last he inhaled a gasping breath, his entire body jolted by the spasm. Desperately he tried to get up, rolling to his side only to feel the solid floor beneath him disappear. He was falling, flailing wildly in the dark for any hand or foothold to halt his precipitous drop, tumbling end over end through the void, and shouted in furious terror. He could not end this way, buried in some bottomless hole. The next instant brilliant light seared his eyes, still shut, and he squeezed them tighter against the glare. Through the bizarrely tilting pit a voice reached him, distant and distorted so that he couldn't recognise the speaker.

"He lives! Legolas, can you hear me?"

Haldir was nearly as panic stricken as the ailing archer, frantically trying to bring life back into the rigid, immobile form. The poison had paralysed the prince and his lungs and heart had slowed until the March Warden could no longer detect either one. This despite his and Rumil's swift administration of the antidote Gildin had provided to the visiting warriors in case of such a wound. For several moments Haldir believed the cure had been applied too late to work and now this reprieve was almost as overwhelming to his quaking soul. Briskly he slapped the wan cheeks and shook the suddenly limp frame.

"Easy!" Rumil stopped the brusque treatment as a weak, incoherent cry escaped the suffering archer's lungs. "No need to bruise him, Muindor, he's going to be all right. The paralysis is loosening, see? Give him room; let him breath."

"Aye, aye, you're right," Haldir sat back and tried to steady his racing pulse, smiling a shaky grin as he met Rumil's anxious eyes. "Valar, I thought he was slipping away from me, Rumil." With that he returned attention to Legolas and gently took up one of the slender hands, squeezing tight in hopes he would know he was not alone in the ordeal. The moment his skin made contact with the deadly fingers, Haldir's heart fairly leaped through his mouth the sensation was so intense. That very instant, Legolas' eyes popped open and focused on him, and Haldir broke into an exultant grin. "Legolas! I thought you were lost. Speak and reassure me that you are really healing."

The archer's brow crinkled in confusion as he tried desperately to understand why this face and voice were so vitally important to him. He tried to speak and found his throat uncooperative; only a garbled collection of syllables emerged. He swallowed, instinctively gripping the hand wrapped around his.

"Haldir?" he managed to rasp out and the expression of jubilant rapture this evoked upon his companion filled his heart with ease. He tried out a fleeting smile and blinked, suddenly exhausted, inhaling and exhaling a deep sigh as he drifted into a more normal and healthy state of rest.

Haldir was content and calm now, certain the worst was over and the wound would close without further incident. To make doubly sure, and to give himself something to do while Legolas recuperated, he cleaned and bandaged the shallow gash, giving a disgusted grunt at the very idea of one of the Orcish soldiers targeting his golden elf.

Rumil watched all this in silence. It was clear enough that his brother was hopelessly smitten, but he couldn't understand how it had come to pass. It was just as obvious that Legolas was drawn to Haldir, even in such a depleted state he remained firmly attached to the March Warden's hand. This made him uneasy, for Haldir could not hope to secure the prince to him in a sacred bond. The repercussions of such an ill-fated love loomed: Thranduil's predictable outrage, Celeborn's pained disappointment, the breech between the distant realms.

"Haldir, tell me how this happened."

"I believe is was a lance," said Haldir.

"What?"

"The injury was made by a glancing strike with an iron-tipped lance. You asked me what happened, Rumil; are you well?" Haldir eyed his brother askance.

"Valar, Haldir, I'm talking about you and your golden prince, not what kind of weapon struck him down!"

"Ah." Haldir surveyed his brother's distraught expression, suddenly aware that he had crossed an important barrier in the eternity of time compressed within the last few minutes. He no longer viewed Legolas as a potential mate but as his mate in fact, which of course was not yet the case. He frowned. "I don't know what to tell you except that those words you spoke are the absolute truth. He is my golden elf and no others. Those rumours must be false; Legolas has nothing but honesty and intelligence in his eyes."

"Even if that is true, he cannot be yours, muindor, not now or ever. Do you suppose the Wood Elves' King will permit such a union?"

"Surely it is Legolas' choice to make, not his father's," retorted Haldir, no longer willing to concede that something so paltry as a difference in status could keep him apart from his rightful mate. "These are Telerin elves not Noldor. No such restrictions can be placed upon the call of one soul to another."

"Ai, Haldir," groaned Rumil. "I want your happiness, but doubt you will find it with Legolas. He may be spoken for or he may have no desire for a male as a mate. What if he wants a family or…"

"Daro!" snapped Haldir. "You speak of my happiness and the worst fate that could befall me all in a single breath. I won't hear anymore. Until he refuses me, my heart must hope that he is mine."

An uncomfortable silence fell between the brothers as they waited for the Wood Elves to return. When they did, Gildin and his forces were leading the throng, weary and bedraggled and with many wounded. Galion was beside the prince, discussing the battle, which one and all must concede was a dismal defeat. Sirion was moping along behind them, no doubt having been taken to task for losing Legolas. Gildin saw the prostrate archer first and raced the remaining distance to get to his brother's side, Sirion and Galion right behind.

"Ai! Legolas, muindor, awaken!" the prince called, falling to his knees beside his brother and gently shaking him by the shoulder.

"He awakened a little while ago and was able to speak," Haldir reassured. "I believe the antidote was administered in time."

"I knew it was poisoned," groused Sirion. He surveyed the scene, noting the March Warden's protective hold upon Legolas hand. He tapped Gildin on the shoulder to get his attention. "Ernilen, that is the one of whom I spoke."

Both elves turned their gaze upon Haldir, who paled as Gildin's eyes fell to the spot where the March Warden's hand clasped Legolas. Thranduil's heir frowned, raising cool green eyes to Haldir, brow arched in censure. Haldir dropped Legolas' hand and reddened.

At this point Legolas awakened once more, sensing the loss of contact and missing it. He looked first for Haldir and seeing him reached out. "Haldir?"

"Aye, I am still here," the March Warden reassured, though the smile he offered was less openly jubilant and he declined to take the outstretched hand.

"Muindor dithen, how do you feel?" asked Gildin. "Can you make the journey home or do you want more time to rest?"

"Ai! It was just a slight wound and I am fine now," groused Legolas, mortified to be asked this in front of his peers and this Lorien elf who had so suddenly and thoroughly become essential to his sense of how the world should be. He pushed himself up with Gildin's help and shot the Lorien warrior a speculative glance, only to see the elf quickly avert his gaze. Legolas' heart sank. He let Gildin pull him to his feet and gladly departed with his brother.

"If you touch Legolas, you will answer to me. Such conduct is not permitted in Mirkwood, March Warden," rumbled Sirion, still looming near Haldir's shoulder.

"My brother answers to Lord Celeborn and at his command to your prince," retorted Rumil, "but not to you. Legolas, unless he is your mate, is free to choose whomever he wishes to touch him."

A loud gasp arose among the spectators and whispers of discontent arose, while Sirion's countenance blanched.

"How dare you accuse me! I am Legolas' guardian, nothing more! Did the degenerate imp imply otherwise? I will skin him!" Sirion followed his Lord's sons in great haste and high dudgeon.

The atmosphere took on a leaden menace as the assembled warriors glared at the Lothlorien captains. Haldir and Rumil shared uncomprehending looks, uncertain what had been said to so anger the woodland folk, for to their thinking Haldir had been the one slighted. At last Galion approached and settled a hand on the March Warden's shoulder.

"I sincerely regret any offence Sirion gave," he said. "It is his sworn duty to protect Legolas, but an intimate relationship between them would be most displeasing to the King. Such a union would be deemed wholly immoral."

"I understand and offer in turn my own regrets for our hasty reply." Haldir tried his most diplomatically ingratiating smile and bowed to the seneschal. Now that he knew Sirion was not his rival, his sole goal was to defuse the enmity within the population, for he would not purposely cause strife for his Lord and Lady if any action of his might prevent it. "I promise you, I have only the highest esteem for King Thranduil and his sons, and for all the warriors with whom it has been my privilege to serve these last many days."

"Aye," added Rumil, bowing also, "I meant no disrespect to either Sirion or Legolas, for the nature of their relationship was not known to me. Please do not let my unguarded tongue injure the accord between us."

Now the brothers' apologies together made as honourable a speech as any of Greenwood's folk could imagine, and many of the warriors offered nods and smiled to signal their approval. Galion summed up their collective feelings.

"Nay, no offence has occurred on your part. Let me extend my King's gratitude for your aid to his youngest son, and indeed to every one of Lothlorien's gallant troops for joining us in this endeavour. We are in your debt. Please, the wounded need time to heal and the hale have need to rejoice, even though the campaign ends in stalemate. Return with us to the stronghold now and let us forget these petty indignities wrought by the strain of battle."

All were appeased by these gracious words and plans were made to start for the King's stronghold.



The journey back was long and the elves were on foot, which is to say they travelled through the treetops along byways constructed amid the branches. This was not new to the elves of Lorien and the pace was thus regular and orderly. The two armies divided, Thranduil's warriors in the lead and Celeborn's archers behind, so that Legolas had no opportunity to renew his acquaintance with Haldir. Even had their been no division, he would not have managed it, for his brother kept him close beside him. From a distance, Haldir watched, noting that what Rumil had said was true. Gildin appeared to be berating his brother soundly and Sirion was equally abrasive, based on the facial expressions and gestures witnessed, for their voices did not travel to the March Warden's ears.

"What can this mean?" he asked Rumil, plodding along beside him.

"I haven't a clue, though I've attempted to draw Sirion out more than once, for he served beside Legolas on our scouting mission," answered Rumil. "Whatever he's done, Legolas has not been forgiven nor does it seem he will be soon."

The brothers could make nothing more of it and continued in silence. At length the entourage halted for daylight was fading and it was not advisable to continue in the dark, as the threat of spiders increased. The combined army reached an outpost, a large staging area established at the start of the campaign where a veritable village in the trees had been created for the comfort of the warriors. There were numerous talans and as many small clearings on the ground; suitable places to rest and recover.

Haldir departed to oversee assignment of fitting lodging for his warriors and once their disposition was assured, sought a place for himself to rest through the night. He found that he was weary in body and soul and wanted nothing more than to be done with this Mirkwood campaign and return to his beloved Mellyrn Taur. Rumil was probably right; he would not be able to win Legolas' heart for no doubt the prince was already promised to another. So it often was among the noble-born, though the elves of Mirkwood were not considered so lofty. Not only this, but Legolas was not Thranduil's heir, so mightn't he be less valuable as a mating partner? Haldir almost laughed aloud, realising the trend of his thoughts. In truth, it wouldn't matter if Legolas was the least renowned elf in all Arda; his beauty was sufficient to make him a worthy prize for anyone.

Haldir sighed as he walked upon the forest floor, willing the image of Legolas from his mind, glancing about as he passed. Everywhere, the Mirkwood warriors were collected in groups of two or three and it was plain enough their intent was to share more than the evening meal. There was a scandalous amount of naked skin on display and Haldir studiously avoided staring, minding the trail so as not to stumble into anyone's designated 'campsite'. It had been shocking enough to learn that the warriors of Mirkwood included both sexes and now he had to conclude that many of them were mated couples, or else lacked morals of any sort. He and Rumil had remarked on the behaviour upon discovering it during the first days of training with the Mirkwood elves, but then it had not been so pronounced. He guessed the increased avidity had to do with the recent battle, for exposure to such violence often inspired the First-born to seek comfort and release with a loved one.

He meant to concentrate on the outcome of the battle, reviewing the tactics employed to determine where the flaws had been and what had caused the venture to fail so miserably, but there was rather a lot of distracting noise arising from amid the sylvan soldiers. Sighs and moans and deep groans of pleasure, muted snatches of intimate exchanges truncated by passion, tender endearments voiced with loving fervour, the impact of flesh on flesh. It all made Haldir uncomfortable and he hurried, wishing he'd asked Rumil where they were to be situated before touring the section set aside for his archers. Visions of Legolas, naked, aroused, wantonly submissive beneath him, filled Haldir's thoughts.

"Haldir!"

The call came from above and the March Warden lifted his gaze into the branches, though his sight was inhibited by the dense foliage of the interlocking limbs. Quickly he scanned the heights and caught the movement of a hand motioning him forward. He smiled in great relief, for it was Rumil, and climbed up to the talan at once.

"Muindor, I am truly glad to see you," he said. "That was without doubt the most unsettling stroll through a forest I've ever taken. They're mating in the very paths!"

"Haldir, we've got company," Rumil warned, too late, of course, as his brother had already spoken the deprecating words.

"My people do not mate in public places," corrected an affronted voice and its owner stepped from around a small partition. Imagine Haldir's surprise to behold the golden elf, Legolas. "You may have erred and trampled across the boundaries set, for you are unused to such signs. Thus none will hold it against you for invading their privacy."

"Privacy?" Haldir scoffed. "I don't think that word can be applied to any of the activities taking place below." He saw the prince's brow contract in irritation and softened his tongue's edge, for he had no desire to alienate his guest. "Yet I misspeak, for it is true that I have no knowledge of the marks your people may use to designate an exclusive area. For that, I humbly apologise." To reinforce the notion, he bowed low from the waist.

Rumil's eyes rolled skyward and he shook his head. "We've saved you some stew if you're hungry and if you aren't then try to make Legolas eat for he refused. I will see you tomorrow at dawn."

"Where are you going?" demanded Haldir, suddenly uncertain about spending the evening alone with Legolas. His attraction was strong and while he longed to obey that pull, he had no wish to insult the elf or cause another misunderstanding. "Stay, Rumil."

"I am on duty, muindor, and go to stand first watch along the perimeter of the encampment. Legolas has last watch, so do not be stingy with the time you have." With that and an irreverent smirk, Rumil disappeared into the night.

Haldir eyed his guest speculatively, finding a distinctly disgruntled Wood Elf, arms crossed over his chest and face grim, watching him in turn.

"I thought you would not be averse to my company. I must have misunderstood; I regret placing you in such an intolerable position," said Legolas and he turned to go.

"Wait!" exhorted Haldir, bounding the two strides needed to place him in front of the Wood Elf. "I didn't mean to seem so cold. I would like you to stay."

"Yes?" asked Legolas, a sceptical note underscoring the word. "Yet perhaps the reason is not the same as that which drew me here. I suppose you will make me say it plainly and while I dislike such vulgarity…"

"Nay, I've no intent to make you do anything, Legolas, I…"

"…yet I will do so in the interest of avoiding further misunderstanding. It was my hope to spend this night with you engaged in just those intimate activities that had you so disconcerted on your stroll among the trees."

There, it was out in the open. Legolas braced himself for the inevitable rejection, meeting the March Warden's astounded stare with tense anticipation. Seconds sped by and still Haldir gaped, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, for all the world as if he'd never had such an invitation before. Of course, Legolas knew the real reason for this frozen stupefaction probably wasn't far from that. Undoubtedly the suave Lorien warrior had received many offers, just not from males. Legolas sighed and his shoulders drooped as he exhibited a faint shrug.

"I will leave you, then, and beg you will not mention this to anyone, especially my brother or my guardian." He stepped behind the partition to retrieve his pack and weapons.

"Nay!" The motion jolted Haldir from his dumbfounded trance and again he leaped to place himself before Legolas. "I haven't given my answer; would you go before hearing it? That is a strange invitation in which the reply is assumed before the offer is made. I was only surprised, Legolas, to hear so bold a proposition."

"I wonder what that means," said Legolas, searching the elf's face keenly. "Tell me plainly if your interest in me is more than idle curiosity, for I thought you looked upon me with recognition and have gone to no small trouble evading my minders to seek you out."

"Recognition?" Haldir found the way the forest prince spoke strange, but as he considered the word he decided it was not a poor choice. He nodded, a smile spreading over his features as he reached out and touched the cheek of that angelic face. "Aye, that is well said. When first I spied you, I had no idea who you were, yet there was a definite sense of longing to know you fully." Legolas did not retreat from the caress and so Haldir let his fingers migrate down to rest upon the slender neck.

"And though you felt this need, you have refrained from expressing it," said Legolas. "Why? Is it forbidden to desire a male in Lothlorien? That is the way it is here and so I am alone. Somehow, I do not think you are often alone, Haldir."

There was an undercurrent of resentment and pain in the golden elf's voice that evoked in the March Warden an immediate jolt of sympathy and remorse. "I cannot imagine anyone so magnificent being forced to remain alone," he said softly, "yet neither can I deny my delight to be the one chosen to eradicate that loneliness. As for me, I have had lovers of both genders, for mutual desire is never frowned upon in Lothlorien."

"What of the rest? You will have me since the offer was made and sate your desire in so willing a vessel, is that it?" asked Legolas, cheeks flaming hot as he stepped back, suddenly ashamed to have been so imprudently audacious.

"Elbereth! Where do you find cause to judge me so harshly?" demanded Haldir, torn between anger over the slur and fear that he would lose his chance with this glorious creature. "Please set aside this inaccurate perception you have acquired and hear my words. I will gladly answer you and hopefully allay your concerns. First and foremost, I never assume the favour of company so splendid will be mine to claim. Come, let us sit down and speak of these things which have you so agitated."

It was only then that Haldir noticed the room behind the partition and in doing so his heart soared, for someone had taken pains to make the place not only comfortable but luxuriant and that someone could only be Legolas. The bedding laid upon the floor was thick and covered with rich furs for warmth. A basket had been turned over and served as a low table, bearing the repast mentioned by Rumil along with a flask of what surely would not be water. Around it were several cushions for seating. In the gathering darkness, the flame from a small lantern danced and cast its glittering light upon a collection of glass bottles and vials resting on the mattress. The March Warden led his skittish guest to the cushions and sat him down, pleased beyond words to meet no resistance to this action.

"If I have been rude, forgive me," said Legolas, his manner changed from belligerent to docile. He didn't want Haldir to send him away but he didn't want to be a one night conquest of which the Lorien elf would boast either. Truly, what he wanted was a permanent mate and while he knew this was unlikely to come to pass he couldn't dispel the dream from his heart. Even were such possible, the likelihood of that person being this elf was faint at best. Legolas resigned himself to this single night, hoping perhaps for an encore before they reached the stronghold.

"You have not been discourteous; there is nothing to forgive," assured Haldir, desperate to alleviate Legolas' misgivings. "I was surprised by your offer only because I never imagined you would make it to me. I am a captain of the guard while you are the son of a mighty King among elves."

"Ah, so now I am a haughty aristocrat who scorns those of lesser rank. And I suppose that if I had been any common archer then you would have acted on your feelings at once?" asked Legolas in derisive tones. He made to rise and was abruptly seized at the wrist and yanked back to the floor.

"You are impossible," announced Haldir. "It doesn't matter what your rank is, not to me, but you have to admit it poses some obstacles."

"Aye," Legolas replied quietly, looking away. "Others who feel as I do are left alone to make their lives as best they can and invariably find a mate, or more commonly, two: one female and one male. That is deemed acceptable. I am not free to do that for I represent my father's House."

"That is most unfair," said Haldir, rubbing Legolas' slumped shoulders in commiseration. "I did not know Mirkwood's customs were so rigid in this regard. So then, have you never had a lover?"

Legolas tossed his head and his eyes flashed. "Now you think I am some kind of desperate virgin hoping for his first encounter. Ai! Why did I choose you? Gildin was right to warn me."

"What? You are the most exasperating elf! Legolas, stop trying to read my mind. What did your brother say about me that has created this mistrust?" Haldir again had to take hold of Legolas' wrist and this time he decided to just hold on, sliding a little closer to secure a more certain grip. Legolas made no objection to this contact and Haldir smiled. "Well? Tell me what horrible crimes I've committed to make you so wary."

"Not crimes, Haldir, but indifference. It is said you don't believe in love or desire a permanent mate."

"And this bothers you because you have chosen me to become your soul's eternal counterpart?" Haldir was grinning hugely, more pleased than he could find words to express, but failed to comprehend the effect this would have on Legolas. This time the archer pulled free and jumped all the way to his feet.

"Now you would mock me!" he fumed, features contorted in combined anguish and outrage. "Yes! If you want to know the truth, fine! I came here knowing you would not care for more than this one night, knowing you had picked me out to share your bed, knowing you would not turn me down. If the needs of the heart can never be fulfilled then at least this body will satisfy the needs of the flesh!"

"Legolas, what are you saying? This is not how I view you at all." Haldir rose and took hold of Legolas, one hand on each forearm; the sylvan was trembling. The March Warden's heart went out to him and he wished more than anything he could simply hold Legolas in his arms for a time. "I did not, and still do not, deem myself deserving of such favours; they are gifts to be treasured not rights to be exercised. It is a wondrous gift you place before me and I am simply amazed to be the recipient."

"Oh!" Legolas had to smile for this was very pretty speech. "And will you accept this gift, Haldir?"

"I would be a fool to do otherwise but not because I want a partner for the night." He sat, drawing Legolas down with him again. "I find myself attracted to you, that's true enough, but there is a deeper sensation, something that sets my soul singing whenever you're near. I've never felt that before."

"No? I felt that too and wondered about it. I wanted to learn if you were experiencing the same thing." This time Legolas offered a genuine smile and settled comfortably on the cushion, crossing his legs.

"Then your guardian intervened and got your brother involved. I am curious, how did you escape Sirion's notice tonight?"

"I had help. Rumil truly had last watch and I the first. I begged him to switch with me and he agreed."

Haldir smiled and reached for the flask, making a mental note to thank his brother, and poured out a measure for both. The scent from the vintage was strong and he sipped it carefully, knowing the Wood Elves' reputation for producing fey wine of extraordinary character. He was pleased to learn this was not a false perception. The warmth of the potent concoction migrated through his body and he took a moment to examine the prize he was about to unwrap. Legolas sat in a rather provocative position, elbows resting upon his knees, making absolutely no effort to disguise the evidence of his interest in Haldir. Not even caring what consequences might be, the March Warden leaned forward and trailed his fingertips over the concealed erection.

The result was highly gratifying, for Legolas moaned wantonly and uncrossed his legs, opening them wide.

"Elbereth, I cannot believe this is happening. I thought it would be impossible to win you. Of all the elves here, how is it that I am the one you've chosen?"

"Valar, what cheek! Are you expecting a compliment, Haldir? Will I tell you that none of the warriors in Mirkwood can compare to you in virile strength and dauntless courage?" asked Legolas, unceremoniously removing his tunic as he spoke. His tone reverted to the morose, sarcastic one. "Perhaps that is the truth, though it might sound treasonous for me to say it. Yet the reason is as I said before: none in Mirkwood will have me. Or rather, those who would have me do so with scorn and disgust. Does the idea of filling me with your seed disgust you, Haldir? Nay, don't answer for it matters not." He had discarded his boots by then and was working on the ties to the leggings.

"Ai! The words you speak are terrible!" exclaimed Haldir, watching in fascination as the golden elf calmly stripped down before his eyes. "Have your lovers really been so cruel?"

"There has only been one," answered Legolas, shimmying out of the leggings and casting them away. He reached for his penis and stroked it, sighing and reclining on his elbow. "I would much prefer you do this."

Haldir willingly scooted next to the recumbent form, removing Legolas' hand and taking firm hold of the hot, hard penis, fisting the slender organ for the first time, mind reeling at how right it felt to do so, how neatly it fit the contours of his hand. He squeezed tight and pulled and it jumped in his clasp.

"Ai! Yes, Haldir!" Legolas cried in tremulous fervour.

The March Warden prevented further vocalisations by taking possession of the succulent lips. They were sweet and pliant and at the softest tap of his tongue opened like flowers to the sun. He explored the warm wet mouth with relish, tasting and sampling Legolas' unique flavour, coaxing him to join the oral dance, steadily pumping the prince's cock the while. He moaned, feeling fingers infiltrate his hair, combing through the lengthy strands, tangling in the braids, searching for his ears. When they were located, the tenderest, most speculative touches mapped their contours and Haldir could not suppress either a deep shudder of anticipation or the rapid escalation of his passion.

He reached for Legolas' ear and stroked the graceful ear-tip, again making the archer cry out softly, the sound muffled even more by their sealed mouths. Haldir gave an answering moan as his action was copied by the woodland archer. He broke the kiss and lapped at the flushed cartilage, then sat back to appreciate the incredible sight of Legolas naked and aroused in his hand. His heart lurched and every muscle in his groin contracted; the red tip of Legolas' cock poked above his knuckles, wet and slick, and he swept his thumb across it.

"Ah!" Legolas shouted, thrusting up into the contact, eyes wide as he met Haldir's triumphant gaze. "Haldir!" he called, voice trembling, lowering his gaze to see the March Warden's hand holding his rigid sex prisoner in its grip.

"Does your lover do this for you?" asked Haldir, bending down to lick the oozing slit.

"Yes!" gasped Legolas, pushing up from the floor but the tantalising sensation was already over. He groaned.

"And this, does he pleasure you thus?" whispered Haldir, leaning over the heaving chest to bite at the pink nipples rising and falling so temptingly, sucking one into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the hard, tight bud.

"Oh yes!" answered Legolas but as before the touch ended as quickly as it had come.

"Yet I wonder, does he do this for you?" inquired Haldir and this time bent his head over the aroused shaft, enveloping the velvety head with his lips, sucking daintily and swirling his tongue over the sensitive glans.

Legolas uttered a garbled shriek of delight and tried to thrust up into the torrid cavity, but Haldir held him firmly against the floor with one hand, working his cock with the other as the tongue laved and lapped at him unceasingly. One, two, three strokes the Lorien elf pumped him, Legolas resting a hand on the crown of moon-coloured hair to encourage him to take in more of the excited flesh, and just as his semen was about to explode, the worst happened. Haldir disengaged.

His mouth came away with a distinct pop and his fist retreated with a mighty pull from root to tip so that Legolas shouted, shuddering, and stared wide-eyed into the March Warden's face, but Haldir was not looking at him.

"Ai, Haldir why did you stop? Finish me, please," moaned Legolas, taking his wet erection in hand and pumping.

"Shhh!" hissed Haldir. "I thought I heard Rumil's warning call."

"Nay, he is safe, Haldir, please," Legolas panted. "Haldir, I need you."

That plaintive plea caught the March Warden's attention and he turned back just as Legolas' orgasm overtook him. There lay his golden elf completely undone: cock in hand, hips pivoting up for a final galvanising thrust that ended with a quick burst of seed. The vital fluid perfumed the air with its acrid scent as Legolas flopped back and exhaled a long moan, trembling.

"Have me at will," he growled softly, and opened his legs wide.

Haldir did not hesitate, quickly undoing his leggings and shoving them down around his hips, drawing forth his aching cock and positioning himself between the archer's knees, eager to get his penis inside the small red hole exposed for him. The blunt tip of his shaft was just sliding past the ring of guarding muscles when the worst happened.

"Haldir o Lorien! Make haste! Your brother is in need!" This urgent cry arose from somewhere amid the trees and Haldir froze, chest heaving, the head of his cock already in. He lifted anguished eyes to Legolas.

"Nay! It is not true!" insisted Legolas. "You can't stop now."

"Haldir, come quickly for there has been a spider attack on one of the sentinels!" another voice shouted.

The March Warden recognised this as belonging to one of his captains. He withdrew from Legolas without a word. In seconds he'd made himself decent and was hurrying away into the night.

Verily half the Lorien warriors and a third of the Mirkwood soldiers raced to the outer perimeter where the attack was supposedly occurring, yet when they arrived no one was more surprised by the uproar than Rumil. There had been no disturbance of any kind and he insisted he had not sent the alarm. A loud argument broke out as to who had issued the false report, with each realm's archer's blaming the others for the error. At last Gildin himself arrived and ordered his troops back to their rest. Haldir did the same for his warriors and the incident was over. The March Warden went straight to his talan but Legolas was no longer there. Haldir passed a miserable night, realising how close he'd come to claiming his golden elf and wondering if he would ever get another chance.

At dawn the next day, Legolas was nowhere to be seen. Rumil had already revealed to Haldir that a different elf had taken over the last watch. None of the Mirkwood warriors seemed disturbed by the younger prince's absence, since Sirion was gone, too, and everyone assumed he was on the wayward archer's trail. Gildin did not seem worried either and ordered the breaking of camp. By sunrise they were in motion. The entire day passed without sign or word of the missing elves.

The remainder of the journey was unbearable for Haldir. No matter who he questioned, no one had any idea what had become of Legolas. The March Warden, having discussed the situation with Rumil, concluded that he had hurt the golden elf seriously and he'd fled rather than face the humiliating outcome of the interrupted coupling. Rumil felt they should depart at once and return to Lothlorien before the incident could be reported to the King, a sentiment supported by the majority of the Lorien warriors. Haldir, however, refused to leave without some assurance that Legolas was well. The archer's deep melancholy had touched him and he truly feared Legolas might be suffering from grieving sickness. He wasn't sure that he wasn't under its influence either, for he endured an intense emptiness in his soul and a constant sorrow inundated his heart.

When another day had passed in this manner, Gildin finally informed him that Sirion had taken his unwilling charge back to the stronghold for disciplinary action. Haldir demanded to know what kind of discipline and for what offence, but was summarily told to mind his own business. The prince suggested in strong language that the Lothlorien warriors ought to return home without visiting the fortress, and this proposal Haldir rejected utterly. Indeed, he made it plain he would demand an audience with the King. Haldir was not only deeply worried about what had happened to Legolas, he wanted to approach Thranduil on the subject of bonding with his son.

It took four days to reach the fortress and during that time the March Warden came to suspect that there was some kind of conspiracy in effect, the purpose of which was to keep him away from Legolas. On the third day, he confronted Gildin, citing the examples Legolas had provided and charging that the false attack had been generated solely to get him out of the talan and prevent the two from becoming lovers. Gildin did not deny it; in fact, he admitted it and formally charged Haldir with lewd conduct, contributing to an immoral act, and the corruption of his younger brother. The punishment for that, he was warned, was a beating of fifty strokes with a willow cane, which he hoped to deliver personally. Instead of scaring him off, this threat made the March Warden even more determined to find Legolas and speak to the King.

The March Warden and his brother stood together in gloomy dismay watching the Mirkwood prince stalking away through the trees, his warriors collecting around him and addressing many a black and murderous look upon the Lorien captains as they passed. Last in the ranks came Galion and he paused before the visiting warriors, his features arranged in a sympathetic expression.

"It would have been better just to let it be," he said. "Gildin has had the raising of Legolas and takes this kind of thing very seriously. As long as you never admitted to the affair, the prince would have simply ignored the incident. Now he is honour bound to make you accountable."

"This is unbelievable!" huffed an exasperated Rumil. "Is Legolas a child? What of his accountability?"

"Oh, that was dealt with immediately and I assure you he has been punished. Gildin is very strict."

"Wait, I don't understand this at all," Haldir stated. "Legolas was punished for seeking me out? And why has his brother been made responsible for raising him? I had not heard that King Thranduil is ailing."

"Thranduil is fit enough," snapped Galion. "You ask too many questions, March Warden. I suggest you thank whatever Vala protects you, for you have not been taken into custody and you will be allowed to make your case before the governing council before a decision is made as to the consequences of your actions. Ernil Gildin is not unmindful that customs are different in Lothlorien."

With that King Thranduil's trusted seneschal joined his prince, leaving Rumil and Haldir more uneasy and perplexed than ever.

"Valar, Haldir! Why did you have to pick this blighted place to unlock your heart and this Mirkwood elf to give it to? Can you never do anything in an ordinary manner?" complained Rumil.

"Peace, Rumil. I certainly didn't plan it this way. If you think it best, take our troops and return home. I would rather you explain it to Lord Celeborn than to have him learn through rumours and gossip," mourned Haldir.

"Ai, alhand! (idiot)" fussed Rumil, draping an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Would I leave you at such a time? We will see it through, for perhaps we can think of a means to turn this situation to our advantage and secure for you your golden prince."

"Thank you, muindor," Haldir smiled grimly and ordered his warriors forward. "Though I doubt he'll have me now."



Haldir found himself in a small windowless antechamber in the stronghold of the Wood Elves' King, awaiting an audience with the monarch. The room was well appointed, the rough stone hidden behind panels of golden oak, the chilly floor carpeted in thick woollen tapestries of artful and whimsical design. There was a small grate where a cheery fire crackled and before it a small settee upholstered in leather and draped with the plush fur of a spotted panther. Next to that was a low table on which reposed a decanter of wine and a tray of titbits and delicacies. There were two doors in the space, placed opposite each other in the walls, one leading out to the corridor and the other opening into Thranduil's private study. Haldir circled the room, first in one direction and then the other, passing the inner portal each time and favouring it with a frightful glower. If only it would open!

Within were Thranduil, Gildin his son and heir, Sirion the surly guard, and Galion the cautious seneschal. The March Warden had no doubt as to what they were discussing and dreaded the outcome. Simultaneously, he longed for the conference to end that he might at last have the chance to state his case and plead for the chance to win Legolas' heart. He didn't care about the punishment and was willing to endure it if only he might see and speak with Legolas. No doubt the Sindarin king would be furious about the scandal, but Haldir hoped to prove he only wished to court Legolas properly and honourably. Was it so unusual that the strength of his love and proximity to the object of that love had caused him to become a little carried away?

Nay! Surely, the King understands these things, being an adult male and mated to his heart's desire.

So the March Warden sought to console himself, while in reality his imagination was conjuring all manner of dread consequences, from imprisonment in the fabled dungeons of the stronghold to expulsion and banishment from Lothlorien. It would not have been so unbearable if he'd had Rumil beside him, but the younger brother was delegated to oversee the warriors from Lorien in their captain's absence. Lord Celeborn's archers were understandably uneasy in light of the accusations placed upon their captain. He heaved an impatient sigh and stopped before the hearth, debating whether to try the wine or abstain until invited to do so. Before he could decide, the outer door opened noiselessly and a golden-haired elf peered in.

"Quickly, come with me," whispered Legolas, for it was of course him. He motioned for Haldir to make haste, eyes flickering over to the closed barricade at the March Warden's back. Once they were in the hall, he grasped Haldir's hand and dragged him down a dark and narrow side passage.

"Where have you…" Haldir began but he was cut off when Legolas suddenly turned and sealed their lips together. The kiss was fiery and ignited the March Warden's passion instantly. He followed willingly when their mouths parted and Legolas led him through a door on the right. The room was illuminated only by the warm red light of the fire and seemed to be another office or study.

Almost the instant it shut the Wood Elf wrapped his arms around Haldir and pulled him in for another long kiss, this one even more ardent than before. He broke away panting for air and backed away.

"I wanted to see you," he said simply.

"Where have you been? I thought something terrible happened to you," gushed Haldir, following, unwilling to let Legolas get too far from him. "I wanted to apologise for leaving you. I thought I'd hurt you, maybe even…"

"Oh, that? Nay," Legolas shrugged. "You had good reason. I would have done the same had I believed my brother was in danger."

"Thank the Valar!" Haldir was exuberant. "I feared never to see you again. I thought I'd broken your heart."

"No," Legolas smiled, a flush of warmth colouring his cheeks. "Not yet." He let Haldir wrap his arms around him and pull them close. The March Warden's eyes sparkled with a clear, bright inner light that Legolas found fascinating and he willingly melted into the lips that settled over his. "Haldir," he whispered. "Avo garo." (Don't do it.)

The March Warden pulled back instantly. "Man avo garo?" (Don't do what?)

"Nín ind, Avo brietho den." (My heart, don't break it.)

"Ai! Never, Legolas." Now Haldir had his wish fulfilled and held Legolas close against him, feeling the tension drain from the supple body moulded to his, hearing the contented sigh as the golden head rested against his chest. It was pure bliss and he wished fervently the moment never needed to end.

"Your heart is racing," Legolas said, smiling, and squeezed tight.

"Aye, so is yours." Haldir chuckled, delighted by this breakthrough, for surely there was now an understanding between them. Yet their troubles, or rather his, loomed on the horizon, threatening to destroy this peaceful accord. Haldir heaved an aggrieved breath and eased Legolas away enough to meet his eyes. "I am in trouble for taking liberties; have you heard?"

"Yes. That is part of the reason I came to find you," Legolas wriggled free and wandered to the fireplace, staring into the glowing embers so as not to have to look into Haldir's eyes. "I can fix this so that no reprisals fall upon you. Gildin truly does not want to worry our Adar over this incident, you see. The problem is, you announced to the combined forces of both our people that you and I had been intimate. I told you that isn't allowed here."

"I know, but I was worried about you and forgot," apologised Haldir. He joined Legolas before the hearth but did not try to gather him close, sensing the pall of gloom gathering over his golden elf anew.

"I understand that; so does Gildin, but the fact remains that it is now public knowledge. Someone has to take the blame for it and it's best to let me be the one. You are foreign to our ways and it would be bad politics to impose punishment on elves who have come to our aid and defence."

"Those sound like words your brother would speak," said Haldir gently, leaning forward to try and catch Legolas' eyes, without success. A half-hearted shrug was the best Legolas would give.

"Perhaps they are, but can you deny the logic in them?" he asked, finally hazarding a fleeting look into Haldir's face. The depth of concern he saw made his heart turn over and in spite of their difficulties he felt hope. "I spoke to Rumil and he said your intentions are to propose a formal alliance between our separate lands, with me as glue." His eyes were shining as they examined Haldir's, first one and then the other. "Is it so?"

"How is it Rumil always manages to find you and I am left in dread and worry for your health?" complained Haldir, his smile beaming. He pulled Legolas close and kissed him quickly. "Aye, that is all true. Do you think your father will agree?"

While he spoke, he fiddled with the closure securing the sylvan's tunic, taking in with avaricious eyes the obvious state of arousal Legolas was suffering. He wanted very much to have it in hand again, to use it to bring the golden elf to sublime orgasm, to render him exhausted with ecstasy, and then to claim him. The image of thrusting hard and deep into Legolas' submissive body burst upon his mind and Haldir growled, lunging at the ruby lips, demanding another kiss, thoroughly exploring Legolas' mouth. Abruptly, he was shoved hard in the chest as Legolas separated from him.

"AI! Haldir, this is not the time or place." Legolas gasped from the unexpected contact and unconsciously touched his fingers to his tingling lips. He took a step back to put a little distance between them, for there was a look in the March Warden's eyes that simultaneously thrilled and worried him. He was torn, wanting those hands all over him yet knowing he must handle the immediate problem first.

"Ai, be at peace, Legolas," soothed Haldir, advancing in equal measure. "We are soul-mates, you and I, in every place, for all time. Can you not feel the pull to join with me? I know you do."

With that he gave a knowing smirk and reached out to trail a tantalising caress over the restrained erection bulging at the the archer's groin. The sputtery cry and the involuntary shudder this evoked made his desire surge higher. He moved closer and stroked a scarlet ear-tip peeking through the thick flaxen mane, leaning in for a less aggressive kiss this time. His efforts were rewarded with complete access to the golden elf's mouth and a bonus as hands delved into his hair and gently tweaked his ears.

"Yes, I feel it," shuddered Legolas and leaned closer to lick Haldir's ear. "But we cannot do this here. This is my father's private library."

"As long as it's private," Haldir moaned, "I don't care if it's you father's kitchen. I want you and this time I'll not be deterred, diverted, or delayed."

"Would that I could comply," mourned Legolas, "but you have an appointment with Adar." Legolas wiggled out of Haldir's arms and led him back toward the door, which he opened. "You will find that this conference addresses only the battle and the exemplary conduct of Lothlorien's forces. My father wishes to confer upon you high honours and send you home with his deepest gratitude and commendations for all the warriors. No mention will be made of your 'activity' with me as long as you don't bring it up."

"Gildin will surely bring it up," argued Haldir in surprise. "He has made plain to inform me what the punishment will be and plans to deliver it himself."

"He will not deliver any punishment to you. He doesn't want any of this to come before our Adar's notice, as it surely will if things progress as stated, for we are indebted to you and your warriors for joining our efforts to unseat the master of Dol Guldur. How would my father face Lord Celeborn, his kinsman, after treating with our allies so harshly? Nay, Gildin was simply caught in the anger of the moment and regrets his hasty words."

"Then why has he not come to me and said so?" asked Haldir. "I've spent a most unpleasant four days worrying about this, Legolas."

"Aye, he considers that much punishment just," Legolas smiled ruefully, "and charged me with the task of setting things right. To whit: say nothing of your scheme of alliance by marriage. As I told you, such matings are not favoured here and would be an insult to my father's House. Instead, let Galion work his magic, for he generally finds a means to extricate me from whatever scrape I happen to be in at the time." Shoving the March Warden out he leaned over the threshold and stole one more kiss, smiling a bittersweet smile. "Remain silent about us," he said, "and we may yet find a way to be together."

The door shut and Haldir was alone in the dimly lit corridor.

He returned to the anteroom to find Gildin and Galion waiting for him and there was no doubt they were aware of his meeting with Legolas. The prince favoured him with a sour frown but Galion at least made an effort to be cordial. Together the trio entered the King's presence and everything proceeded exactly as Legolas had predicted. Haldir had to bite his tongue to refrain from beseeching a private audience with Thranduil, for he felt in his heart the proper course of action was to state his intent honestly. How could he hope to succeed in his courtship without the consent of his golden elf's father? Yet, he kept quiet about it, thanking the monarch for his profuse compliments and commendations.

Then Galion fulfilled Legolas' expectations, suggesting to King Thranduil that in the interest of maintaining a closer relationship between Greenwood and Lothlorien, an ambassador of sorts might be appointed to go to the Golden Wood as Thranduil's representative. Who better to promote His Majesty's policies, opined the clever seneschal, than his own son? Would not such an assignment be perfect for Legolas? Indeed, the experience would be beneficial for him as well, adding to the young one's knowledge of diplomatic ways and means among the elven realms. To Haldir's utter delight, King Thranduil found this idea pleasing and proposed to bring it before his council on the morrow. The momentous meeting concluded with the promise of a lavish feast to which the Lothlorien warriors were all invited. The March Warden verily floated from the room on Galion's heels, wanting nothing more than to bow down and kiss the advisor's feet.

"I am most indebted to you, Galion," he enthused, gripping the elf's forearm tight.

"Actually, Haldir. this was Ernil Gildin's solution to our mutual 'problem', that being Legolas' inability to comply with sylvan law regarding his personal life."

"Ernil Gildin?" Haldir was astonished and turned to the dour ellon, offering him a stilted bow and a stuttered word of gratitude.

"There is not need to act so surprised," droned Gildin. "Legolas is my brother and I love him dearly. Besides, it is plain that nothing can be done to dissuade him from this course. He threatened to bring all this before our Adar and that I will not permit. Adar has suffered many losses and much grief in his long life; I will not allow Legolas to add to those burdens. Now,if you will excuse me, there is a large celebration to prepare."

With that the Prince of the Woodland Realm stalked away into the fortress, his displeasure over the turn events had taken obvious.

"Now that this is all settled, perhaps you would like to be taken to your quarters?" offered Galion. He motioned the March Warden into step and they moved into the less formal area of the stronghold.

"Thank you, I would appreciate a bath and a change of clothing before this feast commences. After that, would it be possible to see Legolas?"

"Ah. Inadvisable, March Warden. Do not be too forward; Legolas must be on his best behaviour from now until his commission as ambassador is approved. It is not a secret, his illicit taste in bedding partners, and not everyone on the council will be pleased to have him acting as Greenwood's representative."

"But we don't care about such things in Lothlorien," argued Haldir. "No one will blink an eye if he becomes my mate, except to congratulate me on so magnificent a match."

"Your mate?" Galion stopped and turned to Haldir. "Ai! That can never be. He can choose you as his lover but Legolas must not bind himself to you. That would be disastrous! Surely you understand that Thranduil is not to be made aware of his son's failings. You must not speak of this again, Haldir, for word has a way of spreading rapidly through these halls." So saying, he ducked into a room at the left, dragging Haldir with him and shutting the door.

"What? I think you must be mistaken; King Thranduil surely knows his son and is aware of his needs. No matter if those conflict with sylvan custom, every father only wants his sons to be happy." Haldir insisted.

"Listen to me, Haldir O Lorien," hissed Galion, poking the March Warden sharply in the chest with his forefinger. "I am going to explain something to you that is highly confidential. I do so because I believe that the truth will help you see that our way is best. You will not repeat any of it, not even to your Lord Celeborn, agreed?" When Haldir gave a swift nod of assent, Galion began:

"Thranduil has suffered terribly and nearly faded when his beloved wife perished. That was shortly after Legolas' birth, and so Gildin's wife took the elfling to breast. Legolas was practically grown before Thranduil managed at last to overcome the grief and remembered his new son. A large part of his recovery has involved his growing pride as he 'discovers' his youngest child, which Gildin has made certain to bolster by strict guidance of his brother's activities. Legolas is Thranduil's remembrance of his beloved wife; no stain upon this last gift from her loving heart must ever be seen."

Haldir was stunned, not knowing what kind of response he could make to such a situation. Fortunately, Galion took his silence as tacit agreement to aid and abet the goal of keeping Thranduil ignorant of Legolas' secret life as a sexual deviant. The seneschal led him to his rooms, a suite shared with Rumil, and departed. Haldir lost no time retelling his experiences of the day to his brother.

"This is a strange predicament," remarked Rumil. "You are given your golden elf but forbidden to claim him as yours alone. I know you want Legolas bound to you permanently, but have you discussed it with him? Perhaps he also wishes to keep his exploits from his father's knowledge." Rumil pointed out.

"Nay, I haven't really had a chance to speak to Legolas about anything," complained Haldir. "That is really what I need to do, but I've no idea where in this warren to look for him."

"Well, that's easy enough," said his brother with smug delight, "for I know where he lives."

"Take me to his rooms, then," urged Haldir.

"Why, he doesn't dwell within the mountain," said Rumil. "Legolas has a home among the trees, just as you do back home. Come, I will take you there."

The brothers left the fortress and traversed a short distance back into the forest, but when the ancient oak was located, Legolas was not at home and all appearances suggested he had not visited the talan in some time. Having no means of discovering the prince's whereabouts, the brothers returned to their rooms and made ready for the feast.



As Haldir sat at the banquet table in the legendary underground stronghold of King Thranduil, he found it necessary to exert great effort to present a pleasant, interested demeanour. It wasn't that the food was poorly prepared or meagre in quantity, for the fare was excellent and the wine superb. It wasn't that the caverns were claustrophobic or gloomy; in fact, only in Imladris had Haldir beheld such opulence and evidence of wealth coupled with a refinement in taste that bore witness to King Thranduil's noble blood. The halls of the king were vast, open, brightly lit, and decorated with furnishings veneered in precious metals and jewels. Nor was the evening's entertainment anything at which to scoff, for there was music and singing to accompany the meal. What had Haldir so worried was the sombre mood of Thranduil and his immediate family, said family reduced in number by one, lacking the fair golden prince.

The March Warden was seated next to Gildin, and though he tried to engage the prince in conversation, hoping to learn where Legolas was, Gildin remained distant and distracted. Beside Gildin was his wife and she was even more reticent than her husband, giving Haldir quick, anxious smiles instead of responses when he attempted to talk to her. Further along were Gildin's two daughters and their families comprising so many generations that it was impossible to keep all their names within memory. Rumil was situated among these and was too far from Haldir for them to discuss Legolas' absence. At the head of the table sat Thranduil, resplendent in jewel-studded satin robes, a crown of ivy encircling his brow. An empty chair was to his right, just opposite Gildin's, and on the monarch's other elbow reposed Galion.

Thranduil was not angry, Haldir decided, but deeply saddened and he could not doubt that this was in some way connected to Legolas. Even as he watched, the king drained his goblet only to have Galion instantly fill it. That Thranduil also gulped down and the butler replenished the wine just as quickly. Silence blanketed the lofty table once more so that the sounds of knives and forks and chewing and swallowing all became unbearably pronounced. Apparently the noise bothered the king, also, and he suddenly stood, taking up his goblet with him.

"Let us pay homage to the one for whom this feast is given tonight," he said and at once all the music in the great hall stopped.

Haldir's eyes grew huge and his face grew hot. This was absurd and flattering at the same time, for while he knew the King of the Wood Elves had called the feast in order to honour Lothlorien's aid, to single him out in this way was unexpected. Still, he had no desire to insult his host or appear oblivious to such acclaim and so he stood, taking up his glass and smiling in what he hoped was a serenely humble manner.

The King's eyes fell upon the visitor, the expression within them filled with a vague sort of irritated bemusement. What in Mordor was he doing standing during the Tribute to the Fallen? It was unheard of, but he dismissed the strange behaviour with a quirk of his brow and a mental shrug. The elf was from Lothlorien; no doubt customs differed somewhat and allowances must be made. Thranduil took a breath and began his speech.

"Never forget the day, though ten thousand Valian years pass you by. We were both blessed and cursed that day; enduring unbearable sorrow while our hearts felt ready to burst from joy too great to contain. Such is the fate of the tawarwaith and we have known this duality of emotions many times before. Everyone of us has felt it; everyone of us has endured it. Those who could not endure are gone, waiting on the distant shores of Eldamar for us to join them. Will we go or will we stay?"

Almost as one the assembled elves leaped to their feet and called out loudly: "We stay! As long as Thranduil holds fast, we will never falter!"

"Aye, we stay, Sindarin and sylvan, warriors and artists, male and female, all of us will stay. In the forest we remain and by our united efforts shall the Shadow's vile encroachment be stayed, driven back to the foul mountain in Mordor whence it arose. So spoke my father when he came upon the borders of Greenwood: 'We have come into a green world and here shall we abide until the end of days.' To that I hold!"

The Wood Elves clamoured loudly their approval, tapping upon the tables with their utensils and chanting an ancient vow, slightly modified for the occasion: "Tawar sustains us; Thranduil protects Tawar!"

By this time, Haldir realised he was not the object of this deeply moving accolade. Yet now that he was on his feet, it might be a far greater affront to take his seat again. It was unbearably awkward, standing there in silence, unable to join in the vociferous chanting, unable to unobtrusively drop into the chair. He glanced about to see if anyone was paying him even passing notice and found Rumil watching him with a bemused smirk. Haldir's face grew red and he resigned himself to the inevitable teasing. It was as nothing compared to his anxiety over what had become of his golden elf.

"Aye, we stay," Thranduil continued when the crowd became quiet again. "Tawar needs us here, every one of us. Since the time before Anor and Ithil, the Wood Elves have dwelled beneath these trees, enjoying the bounty of the forest, protecting the ancient woodlands from the Shadow's evil. For everyone of us here, many more have been sundered from us by this same malevolent presence. We stay to honour them and their sacrifice, to assure their loss is not meaningless, and to ensure the Greenwood still stands for the day of their return."

Now the silence in the hall was palpable, anger and pain and sorrow and hope all woven together into a thick and heavy drape of restrained emotions, yet there was, too, a strained and expectant energy in the crowd.

"Let us never forget them, the Lost and the Fallen, the Dead and the Wanderers. Keep them close to your hearts and ever running through your dreams. This is a day both joyous and solemn, yet it is our choice which emotion to foster. I say it is easy to sink into sorrow and tears; too many are the numbers sundered from my presence. I choose hope instead. Those absent today will be returned to me, whole and healthy. For that I rejoice!" Thranduil lifted his goblet high and all the assembled elves did likewise.

They waited, but the King did not complete the tribute, frozen in his efforts to maintain composure, for it was obvious to all that the sorrow he'd been keeping at bay threatened to overwhelm him at last. Then Gildin moved to his side and placed a hand upon his father's shoulder.

"Praise the fallen warriors; praise our lost kinfolk; let them dream for now in Golden Light. Námo, Lord of the Halls of Waiting, do not keep our loved ones longer than their healing demands, for great is our longing to see them again. Return them to us!" Gildin raised his glass and drank and everyone did the same, even Haldir who had reason to find such a commemoration moving. Indeed, who among the First-born did not have relatives removed from them by the vagaries of ill-fate?

No more was said and everyone returned to their places at table. For a few more moments, the musicians refrained from striking the chords. Gradually the low murmur of voices filled the hall again, but the sound was more subdued and sombre than before. Haldir, at first lost in his own memories of his parents' demise during the rampage of Durin's Bane, startled when the King leaned toward him and spoke.

"No doubt you wonder what dread anniversary we mark in such a strange manner, holding a great feast with dancing and laughing and song and good wine," he said, his smile strained and his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Aye, Hiren," replied the March Warden cautiously.

"He thought you were about to praise him and his warriors' efforts in the assault upon the Dark Tower," Gildin broke in, hoping to lighten his father's mood. It worked, for Thranduil chuckled appreciatively at Haldir's reddening cheeks and dismayed expression.

"Well, he had reason, I suppose. When I announced there would be a feast this night, he may not have realised it was an annual event. Naturally, he assumed the cause was Lothlorien's participation," the King said. "No matter, Haldir of Lorien, I am glad you are here to celebrate with us."

"It is the anniversary of my Naneth's Begetting Day," Gildin explained. "She perished many years ago…"

"Three hundred and seventy five years ago," inserted Thranduil, following it with another gulp from his goblet.

"That is the cause for our sorrow," the prince continued, "but there is reason for gladness, too. This is also the anniversary of my younger brother's Begetting Day."

Haldir startled visibly. "Legolas' Begetting Day?" he repeated. "Then where is he? Surely he ought to be here to join the festivities." At last he must have a direct answer and turned to the King to make sure he got it.

"He is indisposed," said Galion quietly, his eyes intense and filled with warning when Haldir met them. "He is still recovering from the injuries he received in battle."

Now Haldir was about to open his mouth and refute this statement, for it was plainly false and he could not understand why the seneschal would lie, when Thranduil exhaled a woebegone sigh.

"The healers say he will be fine, but refused me admittance to his sick-room, saying he was deep in healing slumber," remarked Thranduil. He favoured Haldir with a frightfully sad smile. "He would not want us to postpone the celebration, though, so do not be disturbed."

The March Warden trained his flustered stare upon first the seneschal and then the erstwhile heir, and finally shared his shocked disbelief with Rumil. What could this bizarre falsehood mean? He was soon to receive his answer.

The doors to the great hall creaked open slowly and an elf slipped between the narrow entrance thus created. With halting strides he made his way toward the dais and as he passed the many tables gasps and hushed exclamations flew from the feasting elves. In no time the music again dwindled away and the whispering increased, while every now and then an elf reached out to clasp the new arrival's arm as he passed. Thranduil rose at once, proud and pleased, eyes shining with relief and love, but he did not go down to his son, for of course this was Legolas.

"Legolas!" called Haldir, ecstatic to see his golden elf approaching, but this joy quickly gave way to dread as he watched the archer's slow, ungainly progress.

"Muindor," Gildin's voice was admonishing, "you are supposed to be resting."

"Hênellon darlanc," (Stubborn boy) muttered Galion, shaking his head, but his face radiated approval.

"Eglerio Varda," whispered the King softly, though elven hearing easily detected the praise. "You are awake; you came."

Haldir peered at Legolas, who had not acknowledged him, desperate to ascertain what had caused this dramatic change. Had there been some call to arms of which he and Rumil were not informed? Spiders, perhaps, had tried to attack the stronghold; he simply couldn't comprehend anything else that made sense, for Legolas was clearly in great discomfort, though he wore garments fitting to such a grand occasion and his hair was shining in the light of the lamps.

Finally he was upon the dais and stood before his father, blue eyes gleaming with determination and joy. He took the goblet from Thranduil's hands and lifted it high, turning a bit to make sure everyone in the hall did the same. Briefly his gaze encountered Haldir's, offering a quick smile of gratitude when the March Warden snatched up his cup as well.

"I drink to the memory of my Nana, Roval'aer (Red Wing). May her return from Mandos be speedy." He drank deeply and drained the glass dry, thumping it down upon the table roughly.

A subdued cacophony filled the room as the elves added their endorsement with a hearty yet solemn "Nasan" (So be it) that echoed through the tremendous space. Only then did Thranduil react, embracing his son tightly and holding him fast. Everyone at the table could see Legolas flinch and hear the sharp hiss as he breathed out.

"How bad is it?" asked Thranduil quietly, not letting go for fear that Legolas couldn't remain standing if he did. "The healers denied me entry else I would have been there when your awakened."

"Could be worse," answered Legolas, "but still I am weary and need rest. Your permission to retire, Adar?"

"Ai! What a thing to ask!" fussed Thranduil, cautiously shifting his hold from around Legolas' shoulders, noting again the unmistakable wince the contact evoked. The reaction worried him, for the wounds his son was suffering seemed unlike those typically received during battle. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and quietly escorted Legolas from the Great Hall.

Haldir and Rumil exchanged a swift glance and both rose, following quickly after the king. As expected, both Galion and Gildin moved to intercept them. They all stopped in the outer courtyard and the March Warden let his temper flare.

"What is going on here? What happened to Legolas? He was fine just hours ago. I should have been told at once!" He loomed over Gildin, not caring a bit that his actions were threatening to a prince of a foreign land in which he was a guest.

"Mind yourself!" seethed Gildin, face red in fury. "You will not speak that way to me. I owe you no explanations, especially regarding Legolas' activities."

"Nay, do not play this game of politics," exhorted Rumil. "Can you not see what your brother means to mine? Answer him!"

"There is nothing to tell," soothed Galion, hoping to calm the agitated March Warden and his King's heir both. "Legolas will be fine; the hurts are superficial."

"We all know he was only injured in the leg," barked Haldir, "and that wound had closed before we left the campsite. Yet he could barely stand upright just now and his father's comforting embrace clearly pained him. He has been hurt since returning to the stronghold and I will not be lied to about it!"

"What you will do is control your tongue," ordered Gildin. "Another outburst such as that and I will have no choice but to confine you to your quarters until it is time for you to depart."

"You threaten me unjustly," said Haldir. "I have told you honestly that my feelings for your brother are deep and everlasting. I have begged leave to make him my mate, agreeing to whatever terms might be required to ensure that outcome. You cannot expect me to simply accept that someone has hurt him. I would know who and why and where and when! And then I would demand the culprit be brought to justice, and I would think you would want the same, for your brother's sake!"

In silence the two glared at one another, Haldir furious on Legolas' behalf, Gildin outraged at the implication that he did not care for his brother's well-being. Once more Galion intervened.

"Aye, you are right to ask these things, Haldir O Lorien, and I am sorry the truth was kept from you. The thing is, Legolas did not wish for you to know."

"What?" Haldir's anger evaporated in an instant.

"Aye, he insisted everything go forward without your intervention, which he was certain would be strident and disruptive," added Gildin. "Legolas' feelings about you are equally strong, which is why I agreed to Galion's proposal regarding this ridiculous appointment as ambassador."

"Is anyone here going to actually explain things?" demanded Rumil. "Perhaps it would be best if Haldir simply spoke to Legolas. That way, he will see for himself the prince is all right and hear from his lips the meaning of these confusing events."

"No, for that is counter to both mine and Legolas' wishes. Galion, take them to their rooms." Gildin decreed, invoking his authority as Prince of the Realm and making no mistake about the indisputable power behind that title. He glared at Haldir in cold fury. "Is it not enough for you that you've stolen away Legolas from us? He is our Ada's hope and the very light of his soul. I have done all I could to make it so and now because of you…" Gildin suddenly broke off, aware that he had said too much, and turned from the Lorien soldiers, disappearing within the stronghold again.

Now Haldir and Rumil turned to the seneschal and because of the elf's success in arranging for Legolas' appointment, the March Warden had faith that he could convince Galion to disobey his Lord's edict. It was apparent the advisor expected as much for his face revealed his conflicted loyalties perfectly.

"I know what you would say," he began, addressing Haldir, "but you ask much. Think on it this way; in a matter of days you will have Legolas all to yourself and for as long as you wish, for he has made it clear he will not give you up, even for his father's sake. Be content, then, and do not pursue this matter."

"How can I be content knowing Legolas has been injured in some way? I cannot believe he truly wants me in the dark, though I am just as certain Gildin may have convinced him that would be best!" retorted Haldir.

"No, you misjudge Gildin. He loves Legolas deeply but this affliction the young prince suffers is as a personal affront to him. He believes, and it is true, that he is blamed for whatever flaws persist in Legolas' character. Gildin only hopes to spare their father learning of the blemish on his golden child, and spare himself the shame of admitting he failed his Adar," Galion defended Mirkwood's heir.

The Lorien warriors were not impressed. Said Rumil, a snort of disgust preceding the words:

"Blemishes, afflictions, and flaws! I do not recognise them in Legolas so much as this backward culture to which he has been subjected. As for his brother, mine had the raising of me and never imposed such harsh restraints or placed upon my shoulders such a heavy burden of responsibility. Gildin has charged Legolas with salvation of their Adar!"

"Aye, and that is a terrible wrong, for only Iluvatar can determine the fate of a person," agreed Haldir. He inhaled a deep breath and stood tall, peering down his nose at the Mirkwood elf. "I will search the fortress room by room if that is what it takes, but I will find Legolas and learn the state of his health this day."

"And I will search alongside him. Understand, Galion, that since Legolas holds Haldir's heart, he also holds his future. I will not consign my brother to death by unrequited love," added Rumil.

"Ai! You know that will not happen, for even if Gildin and I had not made Legolas ambassador, he would have followed you to Lorien anyway," fumed Galion. He could see there was no dissuading these two brothers and exhaled an exasperated oath. "Ulmo's Balls! I will take you to Legolas, but the consequences must rest upon you if you are discovered. I implore you to be cautious and have Rumil stand watch, for should Thranduil find you with his son I know not what he will do."

"Agreed!" Haldir beamed hugely and clapped the disgruntled seneschal on the shoulder. "Lead on, worthy Galion, and consider me in your debt. You must make certain to come to the bonding ceremony in the Golden Wood."

Galion stared in horror, for he had warned Haldir about such plans, but decided events had gone far beyond his ability to alter them and Vairë was not partial to interference from others once she began weaving a given fate. He did as he had promised and left the brothers in the vestibule of the prince's rooms.

Haldir stood before the simple wooden doors, hesitant now that he was here, worried as to why Legolas wanted to conceal his hurts. Though he suspected Gildin's influence, perhaps it was wrong to intrude on Legolas' privacy. Mayhap there was something here his golden elf was ashamed to have him know. What that could be, or the consequences of forcing him to reveal it, filled Haldir with trepidation. The last thing he wanted was to give the wary prince a reason to distrust him. Perhaps he should leave things alone.

"Ai, you know you want to see him," Rumil shoved him in the back. "Just go in. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than not knowing. Tell him how you feel and he will forgive this intrusion."

Haldir had to agree and steeled himself to open the door. With a last glance at his brother he slipped inside the dimly lit room.

As in many of the cavernous stronghold's chambers, lamplight was limited and the space was illuminated only by the glow of the fire in the hearth. Haldir walked in, gazing about in amazement for this seemed like a child's playroom more than anything else. There were shelves made low to the ground, the easier for small hands to reach the books upon them. There were cupboards filled with scattered toys, as though the owner had only left them an hour ago. A child-sized desk and chair sat near the grate and a diminutive table strewn with papers occupied another corner. Even the rugs covering the bare rock were woven in a whimsical design of forest animals and trees. It occurred to Haldir that this room must have served Legolas as a nursery while he was growing up. The idea made him grin and the urge to linger, to discover which books had been the archer's favourites, what toys had been most beloved, was strong.

Yet he did not tarry, keeping in mind his objective, and moved across the room to a second door. This stood ajar and from within spilled the golden glow of candlelight. Cautiously he approached, pausing on the threshold to peer inside, tapping lightly upon the framed arch. No response met this attempt to announce his presence and Haldir crossed the threshold. At once the March Warden caught his breath; his golden elf lay sprawled naked upon the bed, for it was in fact the sleeping chamber.

Legolas long lean frame filled the bed, in that it was made for an elfling, and his slender feet trailed off the end. He lay atop the covers half on his chest and half upon his side, face turned toward the March Warden, one arm tucked under his pillow and the other flung over the side of the narrow bed. His eyes were half shut and in the wavering light his lashes sent a delicate shadow quivering over his cheek. The flaxen mane cascaded in a luxurious tumble all around him, strands twining over his shoulders and back, so long they coiled within the depression where a tight round rear rose from the base of his spine. His pale skin was dappled and streaked where rosy firelight played upon his form.

Haldir stopped and smiled, an ache forming under his heart, for while Legolas naked was a magnificent sight, in this guise he looked innocent and vulnerable. It was like looking backwards in time to the prince's early adolescence and the March Warden was reluctant to wake him and break this spell. Then his fears re-ignited, for Legolas must be either dreaming deeply or unconscious not to have heard his knock. He moved noiselessly toward the small cot and, once his feet brought him within a few yards, gasped in horror. With a bound he was at the bedside and kneeling on the floor.

"Legolas! Beloved, awaken! Legolas, who did this to you?"

Haldir placed a gentle hand on the prince's shoulder and imposed the faintest pressure he could, for the high colour he'd noted was not due to the subtle influence of the fire's red glow. The entirety of his golden elf's back was covered in angry red weals from his shoulders down to his heels. One or two of the lashes had broken and bled, though it was obvious treatment had been applied recently and the injuries were healing. He could not believe that after all the dangers of battle his beloved had been so roughly abused in his own home. Furious outrage surged through Haldir's soul and he wanted nothing more than to inflict the very same punishment upon the criminal responsible for such horrendous torture. No sooner had the thought of punishment materialised than Haldir felt his mind twist in dizzy cartwheels as a new suspicion forced itself to the forefront of his brain.

At the touch, Legolas stirred and murmured a lethargic greeting, smiling in sleepy confusion to find Haldir here beside him, displaying all the indications of someone heavily drugged, which he was. He shifted to sit up and at once the lashes flared as his muscles pulled the skin. He groaned and lay flat again, fisting the pillow tight as the pain rolled over him.

"What are you doing here?" he managed faintly, face buried into the bedding for of course now he realised Haldir was aware of his hurts. The one thing he'd hoped would not happen, yet he'd known that trying to attend the feast might result in this very outcome. Even so, he'd been unwilling to miss the commemoration for his Naneth.

"I had to see you for I could tell you were not well at the feast. What happened, Legolas? Who did this to you and why?" Haldir's voice and face betrayed his distraught emotions and he settled on the edge of the cot, carefully gathering up the yellow locks in order to examine the injuries better. It was not a pretty sight and he hissed in sympathetic misery as Legolas shifted awkwardly more to his side. He was relieved to see the welts only covered the prince's back.

"Ai, Haldir, it is nothing. Please, just let it pass for it is over now and nothing can change it," Legolas said, raising chagrined and imploring eyes to his would-be mate. In spite of the embarrassment, it was gratifying to note the depth of Haldir's concern and Legolas offered him a smile, reaching for his hand.

"Let it pass?" Haldir grasped the archer's fingers readily but was unwilling to do as asked. "No, I cannot pretend this is nothing. You've been brutally beaten and I want an explanation and retribution and…"

"Elbereth!" Legolas' grin expanded. He reached out and laid his palm against Haldir's flushed, tense cheek. "You are rather feisty when your temper is fired up. These injuries are minor, though painful, and will be completely healed tomorrow. There is no one from whom to seek retribution; this is just the standard penalty imposed for what I did. It was worth it and I would gladly endure it again."

"What can you possible mean?" Haldir stood abruptly, looking down upon Legolas as though he was a completely alien creature, for these words gave the idea that so troubled him substance. "You willingly submitted to this?"

"Aye. I told you; once our 'indiscretion' became public, an accounting was required," reminded Legolas. "I was hoping you wouldn't find out what that meant, but here you are. How did you find me?"

"Gildin." Haldir swallowed in a thickly occluded throat and felt tears welling up. He didn't bother to hide them as he sat back down, once more passing as soft a touch as he could over Legolas' shoulder. "Gildin did this. You took my fifty blows for me."

"Yes, it was the only way. I wasn't about to let him lay a hand on you and when Galion saw I would put an arrow in my brother before I let him so much as slap you on the wrist, he proposed that I take your punishment as well." Legolas watched Haldir intently, worried about how virulent his reaction might become. The last thing they needed was an uproar and another public conflict with Gildin. All he wanted was to slip quietly away with Haldir.

"As well? Are you telling me you endured the same number of lashes for yourself?" Haldir's stomach squeezed and rolled and he feared he was going to be sick. "That is horrible! How could your own brother deliver so barbaric a reprimand? And for what? Just because the customs here say you cannot take a male as your partner."

"I know it seems that way to you," Legolas tried to placate the Lorien warrior, "but this is how it has always been. Gildin couldn't very well permit someone else to do this to me, for it is treason to strike a member of the royal family. I would not want anyone to suffer such a charge for my sake. You must understand, my brother has so many responsibilities, for Ada hasn't been exactly well. Without Gildin our lands would have fallen to the Orcs after my Nana perished. He kept things running and kept Ada from fading. I try not to cause him so much aggravation and trouble, but this time I just couldn't obey him. Had I done so, I might have lost my chance, Haldir. I might have lost you."

"Ai, Legolas! You would not have lost me, but I understand, or at least I am trying to understand. Nay, this is just not all right! Your brother is abusing his power. No punishment need have fallen on either of us," mourned Haldir, for so it seemed to him. "This should be taken before your father. It is time he understands what is going on in his own house. If he deems me unfit to be your mate, then together we will convince him otherwise."

"Nay! Haldir, the whole reason I went through all this was so that he doesn't have to find out," Legolas clutched at his beloved's hand. "Please, he thinks I am perfect. I could not bear it for him to look upon me with disgust. Please, we are leaving in a few days, just let things alone," pleaded Legolas.

"He will not look at you with disgust, but he might give Gildin a look of horror. Legolas, you underestimate King Thranduil. The elf I met, the warrior presiding at the feast, is not ill with grief any longer. You and Gildin have been so caught up in worrying about him fading that you haven't realised he is healed and strong again. You must talk to him."

"How can I risk it?" wailed Legolas. "My whole life I've lived in fear that he would die. My first memories are of his unending tears and of Gildin warning me not to upset him. I cannot be the one to visit more pain upon him!" He pushed himself upright and made to rise, but Haldir quickly put a stop to that, catching him at the biceps and sitting him back down hard. They bounced a little as the bed creaked under the strain.

"No, you need to rest. I won't go to him now, but tomorrow when you are healed we will discuss it again. I promise to say no more until then, agreed? I want you fit for the journey home," Haldir smiled kindly, for now he understood better how this gruesome situation had come to pass. He leaned close and shared a soft kiss with his golden elf, thrilling when Legolas sighed and bent his head to rest upon his shoulder.

"As you wish," he murmured, "I am too weary to think straight right now. I will do as you bid me, Haldir, for truly I feel I could sleep a year."

"Then sleep you shall, Ened-en-Inden. (Centre of my Heart)," Haldir smiled as he helped Legolas settle once more on his stomach. "I will watch over you; be at peace." He perched on the rim of the little bed and scanned the marred skin, sighing as he hunted for any small spot he could touch without giving pain. He found one clear patch just at the back of the archer's knees and leaned low to press his lips there.

"Ai!" Legolas twitched and lifted his head, peering back at Haldir in mixture of amusement and mild frustration. "Don't start that, for I am in no condition to participate and you left me in a most dissatisfied state the last time I was naked in your presence."

"You were dissatisfied?" complained Haldir. "I am the one who had to leave in grave discomfort. I had to pleasure myself twice during the night because I couldn't get the image of you, lost in the peak of your passion, out of my head."

"Twice!" Legolas chuckled smugly. "Then it is in your interest to let me rest and heal, so that I might have the pleasure of relieving you when next such potent need visits your person. Ah, Haldir! There is a vision to fill my dreams; I knew I was right to choose you." He settled back into the downy mattress and closed his eyes, drifting quickly into heavy slumber as Haldir hummed a pleasing tune and stroked his hair.



Let it not be thought that King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm was a fool. True, his battle against grief had been long and arduous, but in this the March Warden was correct: the Sindarin Lord had healed some years in the past. In fact, he had come fully into the realm of the living upon his second child's three-hundredth Begetting Day, this being also the anniversary of his beloved wife's death. On that day had begun the tradition of holding a feast of remembrance, not just for Roval'aer (Red Wing) but for all elves of the realm lost during the long struggle against the accumulating darkness. This commemoration was entirely Legolas' idea, who was uncomfortable celebrating his creation when it was such a dread day for his family. Since then, Thranduil had been making efforts to get to know this amazing, magnificent golden warrior who happened to be his son.

Thranduil had vague memories of a blonde elfling being placed in his arms from time to time, an action that usually precipitated the child into wailing and tears almost instantly. The babe would be whisked away and he would not think of him again until the next time he was brought to see the king. For nearly fifty years, Thranduil believed this infant was one of Gildin's children, and not until the child had become an young adult did he finally comprehend that Legolas was his. What joy had visited him then, for he'd believed both wife and babe deceased! From that time forward, Thranduil had strived to heal, hoping to have a second chance to be a father to his youngest son.

Legolas, he had quickly discovered, was not easy to get to know. Occupied with his duties as a warrior, they rarely saw one another, though Thranduil made it plain to Gildin that he wished Legolas returned to the stronghold to be with him. It had hurt deeply to hear that Legolas was unwilling to accommodate this request, and for a time the grief took hold anew. Thranduil dulled the pain with wine and avoided both his sons, jealous of the elder for usurping his place in the younger's heart. Yet as Legolas grew older, he came more often to sit with his father, and Thranduil had caught him more than once weeping freely, face buried in his arms, so overwhelmed with sorrow that it nearly broke the king's heart. Again he made the struggle to defeat his illness, fearing his young son would succumb to the same malady. Gradually, they both reached a less perilous state of being. Thranduil recalled the first smile Legolas had given him with intense feeling.

A silent pact developed between them: each would work to help heal the other and neither would give in to sorrow again. Despite this breakthrough, there was ever a barrier between them, though Thranduil could see plainly the love and adoration in Legolas' eyes when they were trained upon him. Why this wall was so solidly impervious to his efforts to breach it the concerned father could not understand. He only knew Legolas did not confide in him. He also knew Gildin and Galion conspired to aid in this reticence.

At first, Thranduil had imagined this was because of the strength of the bond between Legolas and Gildin, but that notion evaporated quicker than the mists of dawn in summer's heat. Legolas and Gildin, while devoted to one another, were often at odds and the tension between them legendary. Everyone knew, even if no one spoke of it. What caused the contentious atmosphere was, again, protected scrupulously by both brothers. As if reciting a set script, each would complain about the other, Gildin citing Legolas' rash and reckless tactics in battle, Legolas griping about his brother's overly protective tendencies.

That the matter had to be serious, Thranduil had long ago concluded despite Galion's many assertions that it was simply due to Legolas' fears of worrying his father or causing him strife. What the nature of this secret might be had perplexed the King and kept him from dreams on more days than he could count. Something divided his two children, something vital enough to over-ride the nearly parental bond between Legolas and Gildin.

Thranduil, as has been mentioned, was no fool and certainly not deaf. The rumours finally reached him despite his sons' efforts to prevent it. At first he'd resorted to denial, watching Legolas keenly for signs of this supposedly aberrant craving for male flesh. Satisfied that Legolas deported himself with the utmost dignity and grace, Thranduil permitted himself to believe the rumours were false. Unable to summon the courage ask his son directly, he decided it was time to discuss the subject of finding a mate with Legolas. To call this disastrous would be over-stating the case; Legolas simply refused to talk about it, saying he had no desire to wed, and the king's suspicions were renewed.

Standing in the alcove between the playroom and the bedroom, observing the interaction between the March Warden from Lothlorien and his son, there was no room remaining for speculation or denial. Here was the cause of all the strain revealed at last, but Thranduil was more upset about the perception Legolas carried of him. Nothing in all of Arda could alter the depth of his love for Legolas or cause him to feel disgust for his son. It was terrible to realise that his son did not know this and had lived his entire life in fear of bringing sorrow upon his father. Thranduil had to wonder if, deep in his heart of hearts, buried so deeply even he would not have to see it, Legolas believed his mother's death lay at his feet, too. Gildin, he decided, had done his best but had not been able to keep a certain amount of resentment from infecting his raising of his brother.

All of this flew through Thranduil's mind as he stood in the shadows of the arched opening, an unseen witness to what could only be called a love scene, though next to no physical contact had taken place. For several seconds he remained frozen, shocked beyond words, thoughts, or motion by the intimate character of the conversation, to say nothing of Legolas' comfort with being naked in this stranger's presence. Equally disturbing was the nature of the injuries exposed by this nudity, for naturally the king was aware of the laws of his own realm and the punishments exacted for breaking them. If he'd had any doubts, the conversation between the two dispelled them.

Yet could he really claim to be surprised? No, for the placement of the injuries had raised his concerns and to satisfy those concerns once and for all the king had decided to over-rule the healers and visit his son. Finding that Legolas had retreated to his old nursery again roused his alarm, for the archer generally preferred his talan to the underground caverns. Clearly, he had been in too much discomfort to go there. Thus, Thranduil had gathered a sample of delicacies offered at the feast and carried this tray along to his son, determined to examine the hurts and get a full explanation. Discovering that Haldir of Lothlorien had nearly the same goal was unsettling.

Yet was it truly? Thranduil watched the March Warden, noting the gentleness of his touch and the soft music of his voice as he sought to comfort Legolas. His strong words also inspired respect. Clearly, this was a worthy and honourable elf, as he must be to have earned Lord Celeborn's trust and admiration. Thranduil sighed, understanding that what he was observing was love, reciprocated, devoted, unmitigated love. What to do now?

His deep breath was detected by the March Warden, who had not imagined there was a second entrance into the sleeping chamber. He stilled and turned slowly to the location of the noise, going pale and nearly losing control of his bodily functions to learn the spy was none other than King Thranduil. Hastily he jumped back from the bed, then flushed as he realised Legolas was naked and scanned the vicinity for some means to cover him up. Seeing this, Thranduil couldn't help but smile a little. He raised his hand to indicate no fear was warranted and then motioned for Haldir to follow him out. They repaired to the playroom and stood face to face before the fire, regarding one another warily. Finally the strain was too much for the March Warden.

"I cannot imagine your thoughts but I wish to assure you that I love Legolas more than my own life," he blurted out boldly, bracing himself for what he knew not: a blow or confinement in the dungeons or banishment and disgrace were all possibilities. He nearly fainted in shock when the king replied.

"I believe you, for I confess I was watching for several minutes. In fact, I cam upon the scene almost as soon as you did, so I know all. Thank you for encouraging him to confide in me," said Thranduil calmly. Now that it was out in the open, he found the truth easier to bear than other notions he'd entertained about Legolas' distance from him. Knowing Legolas feared to lose his father's love and respect was better than wondering if he resented him for being absent through all his formative years.

"What will you do?" asked Haldir, worried that Legolas faced more reprisals, for the laws had not dissolved in the last few seconds.

"Nothing. He has already admitted his error and been punished, much too severely in my opinion. Gildin and I will be having a serious discussion later," intoned Thranduil. He settled on the stone hearth and sighed. "I don't believe Gildin meant to hurt him so severely."

"Forgive me for being blunt," Haldir could not restrain his indignation, "but Gildin should not have hurt him at all. I will tell you plainly, if anyone here attempts to lay a hand on Legolas again, I will react with all the force at my disposal to prevent it."

"Even at the risk of causing war between our people?" queried Thranduil sharply.

"Aye, for I know my Lord would support my actions. Celeborn the Wise would never sanction such barbaric practices, all because someone desires a mate of like gender." Haldir lectured. "With all the troubles facing the Woodland Realm, doesn't this seem a trivial concern? What can it matter? Why inflict more suffering on top of that which the Necromancer is so ready to hand out?"

"That's enough, March Warden," admonished Thranduil. "It isn't for you to decide what is best for the folk of Greenwood."

"It is certainly my place to decide what is best for my mate," retorted Haldir.

"He isn't your mate," Thranduil managed to get the words past his teeth with effort.

"I will be his mate and Legolas will be mine."

Thranduil noted the look of stubborn defiance that filled the March Warden's cool blue eyes. Comprehension of the reason for Galion's sudden counsel to send Legolas to Lorien flooded his soul and swept the last of the fury away, leaving behind the broken detritus of fear and sorrow; he would lose Legolas forever if he opposed the elf before him. He took hold of his rising anger and stifled it, destroying it with the memory of Legolas' stricken voice as he pleaded with Haldir not to reveal anything to his father. More than anything, Thranduil wanted his son to trust him, and the elf before him was the key.

"Yet if this desire of yours would come to pass, then let us not continue this contention. I love my son and I would have him know happiness. If you are the one to provide it, I have no choice but to accept it, distasteful though it may be."

Expecting only angry accusations, Haldir was again stunned by the king's words. He stared, not realising his mouth was gaping wide until Thranduil actually pointed. Haldir shut it and sat down, feeling the need to calm his reeling thoughts.

"I wish to spend some time with Legolas," Thranduil said. "He and I have many barriers that must be broken before he leaves. I want him to know I will not forbid this love his heart has found. When I am through, I will send Galion to fetch you, for I have no doubt Legolas will wish to share the rest of his time here with you."

It took a minute before Haldir realised he'd been dismissed, so amazed was he to hear Thranduil promising him free access to Legolas. Finally he rose and bowed, stuttering out some sort of thanks, apology, and farewell all jumbled together. He exited the same way he'd come in and found Rumil standing watch at the end of the hall. The brothers returned to the feast, having much to celebrate.



It was several hours before Legolas awoke, stretching in luxurious sloth to work the kinks from his stiff muscles, flexing his spine and wiggling his toes as he rolled to his back. All the wounds had closed over and while he was sure the new skin was still pink, the discomfort had vanished. He sighed and stretched again, extending his arms and legs as far as possible and arching his back from the mattress. A grin transformed his features; that move should both please and tease Haldir. Legolas' penis, partially full, flexed as he imagined the March Warden's intense gaze tracking over him.

Yet no exclamation of delight answered his sensuous manoeuvres and Legolas sat up, gazing in consternation at the empty room. Then a slight movement in the next room caught his eye and he rose, making for the playroom. There before the hearth was an elf, long blond hair shining in the firelight. He exhaled in relief and smiled.

"Haldir?" he called and at once the elf turned. Legolas froze, for of course it was not Haldir but his father. In mesmerised dread he watched Thranduil stand and come toward him, a serious expression upon his face, keen eyes drifting over him swiftly before darting away discretely. Legolas flushed scarlet, remembering he was not only naked but somewhat aroused, and quickly reversed his progress, fleeing back to the bedroom to find a robe to cover himself. He found one in the wardrobe and hastily donned it, calling out as he did. "Adar, I didn't know you were here."

"Yes, I understand that. You will have to forgive me, Legolas, but I had to send Haldir away in order…"

"You what?" Legolas spun to face his father, terror stricken and outraged both. "You sent him away? How could you do that? He hasn't done anything, Adar. Valar! He's gone? I must go after him at once!"

Thranduil watched his son return in frantic haste to the wardrobe and pull out his clothes, dressing with a speed that would have been amusing under different circumstances. The king entered the bedroom and calmly took a firm grip on his son's shoulders, stilling his desperate activity.

"Legolas, let me finish. Haldir has not gone from Greenwood. He is probably attending the feast with his brother, for he is waiting until I send for him to return to you. Please, be calm and hear my words."

Legolas gaped at his father, trying to comprehend what was happening and the only thing that made sense was that Haldir had broken his word and gone to the king after all. His heart cramped in sorrow over this betrayal and he shook free from his father to sit in dejected misery.

"He told you."

"Ai! You are too quick in arriving at conclusions and thus the results are erroneous. Legolas, he told me nothing. I arrived here almost the same time he did and witnessed everything that passed between you two."

"Everything?" Legolas eyed his father anxiously, recalling what was said and done, and his cheeks grew pale.

"Aye. Be not concerned about that. Inden Hên, your heart has awakened," said Thranduil, both wonder and worry colouring the simple statement.

Legolas' eyes grew round in amazement. "I will not deny it. You are not angry?" he asked and watched the slow shake that affirmed his father's position. "What can I do, Ada? I cannot give him up for I would be lost."

"There is only one thing you can do, ion edwen: you must take him as your mate and follow him to Lothlorien. Hold to this love you have found and never fear that those who love you here will think less of you for it. I know I will not. Even Gildin will come to understand in time, and you know Galion will never cease being your staunchest ally and friend."

"But the laws, Adar; you are not sickened to know I am drawn to my own gender?"

Now it took great courage for Legolas to ask this, a truth Thranduil acknowledged, enveloping his son in a powerful embrace, so proud it hurt his heart to realise it.

"No, I am not sickened. True, this love of yours is contrary to our laws, but I am your father first and King second. There will be no more reprisals, for you have endured enough. I suspect, looking back, that you have suffered quite a bit over this rule. My deepest regret is that I was not available to you for counsel, advise, and comfort. I pray you will forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Legolas was amazed, for this was so opposite to his expectations. He should be the one asking for pardon. "Adar, I know not what to say. I am deeply grateful." He returned the hug, smiling as his soul filled with joy. "Then you approve? You consent to my union with Haldir? And will you not come to the bonding ceremony?"

"I do and of course I will come. In fact, I will provide the rings." Thranduil released his son, grinning to see how happy so simple a thing had made him. The conversation he'd thought would be difficult and strained turned out to be the easiest he'd ever had with Legolas. Part of that was due, he knew, to his son's euphoric reaction to have the doom lifted from his head, to have the pall of hurting his father dispelled forever. Thranduil understood that it would take time to build a solid relationship with Legolas, but time was a commodity the First-born possessed in abundance and he was patient.

"Now, I have said enough. You know where you stand and what you must do. I will work to change this law, but until then your bond must remain unofficial. I do not want you to leave me, but Lothlorien is the best place for you both, for now."

What this cost his father to say Legolas fully appreciated and though he'd just been let loose, he immediately wrapped his arms around his Ada's neck again, squeezing for all he was worth.

"I do not want to leave you," he whispered, "and I promise to return often to visit."

"Aye, you will come home to visit," Thranduil rubbed his son's back, fighting tears, "and mayhap I will travel to Lorien to see you in your new life there. I would be welcomed?"

"Ai! What a thing to ask!" exclaimed Legolas, sitting back and wiping at his eyes even as he laughed. "Of course you'll be welcomed. You have made me very happy, Ada. I wish I could do the same for you."

"Your happiness inspires mine, ion edwen. Now, I will go and send your March Warden to you." With that Thranduil rose and left the playroom, his thoughts bittersweet.



Impatient though he was for Haldir's return, Legolas discovered that he was also famished, having missed several meals over the course of the day and the night during which he had slept. It was now evening of the second day of the ongoing feast, but he had no desire to leave the playroom to join the celebration, preferring to remain where he was in anticipation of the more private one about to commence between him and his beloved. He shivered, thinking this term the most glorious one in his vocabulary at the moment, and roamed about the room, recalling the many hours he'd spent here during his young years. The room attested to the luxury of his upbringing and yet in his memory those years were arid and empty. Always his heart had ached for his father, his own father not the brother who served as substitute. Yet Legolas smiled, realising that child now had what he'd so dearly missed.

The playroom adjoined a third chamber, a small bed-sitting room that completed the nursery suite, designed for a nanny or tutor to occupy whilst overseeing his activities in his elfling years. Within was the tray his father had collected and Legolas fell upon it with relish. All his favourites were there and this warmed his heart even more. Now he lacked only his new-found love and his world would be paradise.

It was thus that Haldir found him: ruby lips parted to receive a sliver of succulent meat. The sight of Legolas voraciously popping morsels of food in his mouth was somehow highly erotic and the March Warden hardened. Of course, he'd started getting aroused on the walk over. Knowing Legolas was waiting for him, the sole purpose of their meeting to at last consummate the fiery bond between them, had been ample impetus to set his blood boiling. He groaned as Legolas sucked his fingers to remove the last of the juices from them and the sylvan prince froze, eyes wide, fingers still in his mouth. They came free with a pop as he bounded from the chair and practically tackled Haldir.

"Haldir! My Adar has consented to everything!" he exclaimed, though of course the March Warden was aware of all that. "He will come to the ceremony and will provide the rings himself."

That was news and Haldir's surprise showed. "I am pleased," he smiled, arms encircling Legolas' waist. He claimed the smiling lips and quickly set to work on the archer's garments.

Before their mouths parted he had the shirt open and his fingers inside it, eagerly and vigourously caressing the silky skin. He flicked a nipple and Legolas jerked, separating them. He grinned and flung the top off and away, lunging at Haldir to strip the March Warden.

"I have been deprived of the sight of your bared body long enough," he whispered playfully, hastily opening the clasps of the tunic and easing the garment over the March Warden's broad shoulders, revealing a firmly toned chest of creamy apricot adorned with tight little nipples all red and rigid. Firelight danced over the planes of naked flesh, highlighting in the most tempting manner what was soon to be his and Legolas took his time, touching and tasting wherever his roving eye alighted.

"Legolas," Haldir whispered in nearly reverent tones, struck by the wonder of this glorious elf lavishing him with such sweet attention.

He mirrored the tender touches, copying every caress and every lick his golden elf imparted. Legolas explored him fully, revealing an innate knowledge of what to touch, how hard to make the contact, and whether wet or dry was called for. Legolas, his aroused senses informed, was going to be an adroit and accomplished lover. While this sensual foreplay progressed, the March Warden could not help taking the initiative to increase the pace. With nimble fingers he untied the archer's leggings and delved within, smoothing his fingertips over hot, rigid flesh and soft wispy hair.

"Ai, Haldir," Legolas murmured in breathless complaint and delight, "you're trying to distract me from my quest, but your strategy will not succeed."

His claim was somewhat robbed of impact by the sharp gasp that followed, this reaction elicited as Haldir roughly jerked the pants down and tugged the excited cock free. His fist closed around the it and he pulled several swift strokes up and down the engorged column. He grinned as Legolas cried out and rocked into the stimulus, taking that as his cue to release his hold and step back.

"Take those off," he ordered. "I want you completely stripped."

"Oh really?" Legolas' brow contracted in mulish defiance. "Then you take them off," he challenged, leaning back upon the edge of the table provocatively, cock protruding into the empty space between them. "Or better yet, take off your own." As he delivered this playful dare, Legolas took hold of his erection and began working it slowly, a soft and achy wail issuing from his lips.

Haldir watched, spellbound in rapt fascination as Legolas pleasured himself with indolent strokes, quiet little grunts escaping his lungs, minute little thrusts of his hips enhancing the sensation and the show. He was almost overwhelmed with the desire to take over, longing to fall to his knees and take that ruddy flesh between his lips. He could bring Legolas to delirious orgasm in mere minutes and he wanted to know the taste of the creamy ejaculate he would extract with such sweet travail. One thing only stopped him: the desire to have Legolas do all this to him. The March Warden decided to obey his golden elf's directive, quickly pulling off his boots and undoing his leggings. He came right to Legolas' side and used the table as support as he got out of them, eyes bright with anticipation, wondering what the archer would do now.

Legolas ceased his teasing masturbation, thrilled to have his beloved revealed at last. Haldir was magnificent to behold and at first he could do nothing but stare, eyes tracking from the solid column of aroused flesh between his powerful thighs up the planes of a lean flat belly to finally meet the lusty gaze focused upon him. With a sly smirk Legolas reached for the maroon erection, pulling on the cock to bring Haldir to him, claiming lips that opened with a surprised grunt. He moaned as he delved the March Warden's mouth, working the shaft quickly, pleased with its girth and length, eager to feel it inside him.

Abruptly Haldir broke the kiss and grabbed Legolas' wrist, halting the vigourous stimulation. He met the prince's questioning eyes with the most imperious and authoritative expression in his repertoire as he stepped back, propping his rear upon the edge of the table and taking his cock in hand.

"Suck me," he ordered, holding his breath to see if he would be obeyed.

For a moment he thought he'd gone too far and Legolas would refuse, for the archer's breath caught and his body froze, irises dilating in either anger or desire or a combination of the two. Haldir held that gaze, matching the turbulent expression with one of commanding expectation, and after an interminable pause the golden elf approached, replacing Haldir's hand with his own, leaning in so that his cock pressed against the Lorien warrior's thigh. The tip of Legolas' cock was wet and the sensation of the slick secretion coating his skin made the March Warden's pulse triple.

"If I grant this request…"

"Command."

"If I grant this favour, what will you do to express your gratitude?"

Haldir grinned; this was exactly the kind of reaction he liked. Claiming Legolas would not be as easy as it had seemed on the talan out in the forest. He bent near and captured a blushing ear-tip between his lips, nibbling lightly for a few seconds, enjoying the shiver that ran through the lean body propped against him. He let go and breathed over the sensitive cartilage, whispering his reply:

"What's wrong, Legolas? Afraid there'll be nothing left for you? Worried I won't be able to fuck you? Allay those fears, for I already told you two or even three times in a night, or a day, are not uncommon for me."

"Shall I test that bold assertion?"

"Aye, if you please. I've no anxiety over prowess."

"I sincerely hope you are not boasting in vain. I am not a pleasing companion when I languish in frustrated need."

With that final warning Haldir's directive was carried out. The result could not have been more exciting. Legolas dropped to his knees before the March Warden and ran a hand up each leg, caressing the back of the calves and the thighs, squeezing the firm rear. Then he cautiously palmed the heavy sac crowded up against the thick root amid the brown curls, applying just enough pressure to wring a grunt of pleasure from his beloved. He smiled,seeing the muscles in the Lorien warrior's thighs quiver under the strain. Deciding he'd teased enough, Legolas reached for the rigid shaft, bending it forward to pass it between his lips, applying suction as his tongue worked the. sensitive orifice

Haldir could not suppress a loud cry of delight and his hands automatically came to rest on the crown of golden hair, aiding the fluid motion as Legolas' mouth rose and fell upon his cock. All the while, hands played over his balls and gripped him at the base of the organ, adding to the stimulating sensation. Legolas, he again decided, was indeed accomplished in more than archery.

"Ah, perfect, just like that, Beloved," he crooned, giving a little pivot of his hips to force more than the head down into the warm wet suction. "Verily, I would keep you thus for hours, were it possible."

No sooner had the words left him than a yelp followed, for Legolas had applied his fine white teeth to the weeping glans. The archer angled his head to give the March Warden an admonishing glare, never altering his pace or momentum. In fact, he eased one hand back between the clenched arse cheeks and wormed his way to the tightly puckered anus, circling it tauntingly with his fingertip. He grinned around the erection when this raised a harsh grunt and a jolting spasm that rocked them both. He pushed harder and drove inside, resisting the involuntary force as the muscles attempted to repulse the invasion. Haldir was now clutching at his hair with a painfully secure hold and Legolas hummed out a complaining little whine.

"Valar nín beria!" (Valar protect me!) Haldir shouted, realising what would happen once Legolas burrowed deeper. There was no way he could resist the urge if his golden elf began massaging his inner core. The March Warden switched his hold, taking Legolas' ears between his fingers and pinching mercilessly. The reaction was a deep growl that vibrated through his penis in a most decadent manner and Haldir knew he was lost. He braced himself for the thrill that was sure to overwhelm him any second but when it came he could do nothing but shout his beloved's name in ecstasy, thrusting hard into the confining heat of the ruby lips and then pressing back on the probing digit that had so unerringly found his sweet spot.

Legolas' heart soared and he prepared himself for the rush of hot fluid certain to bathe his throat. Another push against the hidden gland, another sweep of his tongue over the tender tip and it was over. With a convulsive shove of his hips and a deep groan, half pleasure and half regret, Haldir came, shooting his essence in a quick spurt of supreme elation. Eagerly and skilfully Legolas swallowed it down, the action of his tongue milking the last few precious drops. He held the penis until its fulness vanished and then slipped free, rocking back onto his heels to peer up at Haldir.

A huge grin broke over his features, for the Lorien warrior was absolutely spent, sagging against the table as his chest heaved in his effort to capture enough air to sustain himself. His head lolled sideways and his mane of moonlight tresses cascaded over the surface and hung free, a lovely curtain to frame his enervated face, mouth agape and eyes shut in sex-blown fatigue. Legolas just watched, proud and pleased to have brought Haldir such exquisite release, and waited for him to recover. It required only a minute or two before the cool blue eyes opened and fixed upon him, an amazed and adoring light filling them. His hand reached out as he straightened up, settling his rear on the table.

"Come here," he called gently and at once found his arms wrapped around the warmth of Legolas' lean, hard body. He kissed the smiling lips but abruptly retreated from the contact,a grimace contorting his features. "Ugh! Here, some wine will fix that," he said, turning to take the goblet form the table and offer it to Legolas.

"Don't you like your own flavour?" teased Legolas, drinking as expected.

"Nay, it's disgustingly bitter with a distinctly peculiar aftertaste."

Legolas laughed and settled back in Haldir's arms. "I cannot agree. Your seed is strong but not bitter and certainly not disgusting. I suppose you will balk at consuming my essence, then. I am glad you warned me of this discriminatory disinclination."

"Ai, the things you say!"exclaimed Haldir. "I would not reject your seed just because I can't stomach the taste of mine own. Where do you come up with these notions?" He peered intently at Legolas, wondering not for the last time who this other lover had been who'd made his mate so insecure.

"I don't know," Legolas shrugged, uneasy that he'd upset Haldir. "Are you angry with me?"

"No, Legolas, not angry but concerned. I can see I'll have much work to do to correct these misconceptions clouding your mind."

"Am I so ignorant?" asked Legolas, searching Haldir's eyes. "You seemed to enjoy my efforts just now."

"Perhaps not in the ways of seduction, but in the ways of love, yes, I believe you have had little education." Haldir cradled the lovely face between his hands and kissed the pensive mouth. "Do not be concerned; it will be the most wondrous pleasure to alleviate your lack of knowledge." "What of you? Is there nothing new I can teach you regarding love and desire?"

"Indeed, there must be much I don't know," conceded Haldir, "for regarding love I have maintained the deepest suspicions and contempt. Now that I find myself possessed by the emotion, I realise all my experience comprises but the barest comprehension. I am sure there is much about you that is worthy of rigourous, penetrating study. Is it your wish to correct my ignorance? I confess, I would find you a fair subject to master." He traced his fingers gently across the prince's blushing cheek, and casually tested the resilience of a reddened ear tip, thrilling as Legolas jumped.

"Oh," Legolas exhaled the exclamation in a breathy moan. "Once mastered, what then?" he murmured. He could feel the heat emanating from Haldir's body, the solid strength of the resurgent erection rubbing against his, and the fluttery breeze from his lips as he spoke.

"Once mastered, twice subdued," he growled softly, taking Legolas in his arms and reversing their position, hungrily nipping at the dark lips and darting his tongue provocatively between them. The archer's erection pushed into his stomach but he declined to take hold, preferring to wait until he was fully sheathed in the tempting body. Roughly he pressed Legolas back, reaching between his thighs to grab him under the arse, lifting him onto the table. A loud crash sounded as the decanter of wine toppled over onto the floor but neither one noticed. Haldir retreated from between the splayed legs and stood back, revelling in the sight of Legolas, boldly displaying all that nature had given him.

"You are beautiful, Legolas," said Haldir, "and you are mine." Then he pounced.

Legolas could not cry out, or rather his cry was muffled, as his mouth was invaded and what had been two hands multiplied into twenty. His body was probed and groped and investigated thoroughly, fingers slipping down between the cheeks of his arse and pressing into him at the same time his cock was fisted. He bucked into the pressure and soon felt himself rocking rhythmically into the steady beat of Haldir's grip, holding on with almost desperate strength to the March Warden's shoulders, for he was bent back over the table in a most awkward position, one leg on the floor and the other in the air. The kiss ended and Haldir fixed him with a smug and sultry gaze.

"You know what I want," he growled huskily and doubled his efforts to bring Legolas to climax.

He bent and bit down hard on a nipple, tugging enough to make Legolas yell, pulling mightily at the slender shaft, and driving his finger deeper inside to rub the small swell therein. That's when the prince lost all control as a strong convulsion worked through him and a gush of fluid coated Haldir's hand. Legolas' shout of gratification was short and loud and consisted of two syllables: his lover's name. That made the March Warden so hard he feared he would come as soon as he slid inside the tight hole clenching around his finger. He lapped the hot nipple under his lips and kissed it before straightening up.

The woodland prince lay across the table top, head thrown back, hair a wild mess, mouth wide and panting for breath, the single leg supporting him trembling while the other hung limply over the edge, revealing the relaxing penis, still red and wet with semen, nestled amid the thatch of honey-coloured curls. There was a dark bite mark over the left nipple and that gleamed in the firelight, too, being coated with Haldir's saliva, as it rose and fell with every breath. The sight was startlingly erotic, for while Haldir had reduced many an elf to this state, none of them had been Legolas, who was his alone and who alone held his heart.

While he took all this in, Haldir wasted no time, scooping up Legolas' release and using it to coat his seeping organ. An almost painful moan left him and he lunged forward, lifting Legolas' dangling leg and penetrating him fully with a powerful thrust that sheathed him to the balls. The woodland prince went rigid beneath him and ground out a grating wail, nails digging into his shoulder, eyes sealing shut as his back arched and he struggled to ease the discomfort.

"Ai! It burns!" he seethed through gritted teeth. Haldir was well endowed and though he was no virgin it had been some time since Legolas had been breached this way. Now he was aware of nothing but the hot flesh shoved inside him, the male organ huge, spreading his channel and shocking to his psyche.

"As it should," instructed Haldir. "Do not fight it; submit to me."

He pulled back and drove in again, a resounding slap echoing as their flesh connected. He heard another sharp gasp but ignored it, knowing it was but a matter of time before the pleasure drove these initial objections away. Indeed, his next thrust raised a vigourous shout of delight from his mate and Haldir answered with a triumphant yell of his own. On the next impact, Legolas' body met him eagerly, hips pivoting forward to enhance the sensation. They found a rhythm that worked and rapidly approached the moment of culmination. Wanting to give his mate the full experience, Haldir reached between them and found the resurgent erection that had been so insistently prodding his belly with every thrust. Expertly he worked it, watching as Legolas escalated to his peak.

"Haldir!" shouted Legolas, eyes wide as they locked with the Lorien warrior's. "Valar!" His body dissolved into a thousand stars and his soul went floating on great swells of pleasure generated by the penis spearing him so precisely. At the same time, a warm rush of fluid shot along the walls of his bowels and he gasped, realising this was Haldir's seed.

"Legolas!" The voice answering was loud, impassioned, frantic. Haldir did not want their union to end. If he could stay hard and fuck this elf forever he would have found paradise, but such was not possible and his vigour drained as his seed left him. It was the most exquisite form of exhaustion, however, and he smiled through the sweet and lingering tremors coursing through his nerves. "Legolas," he said again, his voice quiet and filled with wonder, his eyes focused on the same expression filling his beloved's.

Suddenly the realisation broke over him: heart to heart, body to body, spirit to spirit, they were bound for evermore. He bent down to claim his mate's lips and shared a lingering kiss.

Manadh (The End)


Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.