Title: The Pride of Princes
Author: Etharei (west.for.winter AT gmail DOT com)
Find my stories: My LJ 'A Single Shard upon the Shore', TiM
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters, names or places featured here belong to me. This is based on a work of fiction by Professor JRR Tolkien, and regardless of what present-day legalities say, in my mind they belong first and foremost to him.
Archive: OEAM, LoM, AFF; anyone interested is welcome to ask
Feedback: Will be greatly appreciated.
Beloved Beta: Anorielle- the big sister of my heart!
Summary: All things must change, for good or ill, and not even an elf can stand against it. A shadow has begun to grow in the mighty forest of Greenwood the Great; the King's Heir, Legolas, comes across a stranger wandering in the woods.

Omnia vincit Amor; et nos cedamus Amori.
- Virgil

Prologue

Greenwood the Great, T.A. 728

It was sharp archer's eyes that espied the dark shape lurking beneath the half-shelter of a sturdy oak. In truth, the ears of the Elf were far keener than his hawk-vision, but the ceaseless autumn rain masked any sound made by the unwitting trespasser.

Legolas signalled to his company, most of whom had also, by now, spotted the figure. Four peeled off with nary a rustle of rain-soaked bough. As the captain of this company of elves, he decided to risk a closer examination, but between the shade of the tree and the cover of rain, unless he stepped right up to the stranger and pulled back the deep dark-brown hood, all that could be determined from a distance was that the person had a male physique and a mannish build. Not as brawny as the strange hulking men who came out of the mountains when the goblins invaded, and it was the wrong end of the forest for the men of Dale. He seemed to be of a height with Legolas, which was the average for an elf but tall for most men. Just then, the four scouts who had left to sweep around the area in four directions signed confirmations that the man was alone.

After a moment of hesitation, the archer captain nodded. Three of his companions speedily re-strung their bows- the rain meant that they had had to travel with their bows unstrung, for even elf hair could be weakened by prolonged exposure to damp- and nocked green-fletched arrows from their full quivers. The other elves spread out further around the stranger, in case he attempted to flee; these would use their knives. With a last look around, Legolas eased himself down to a lower branch, where he would be visible to the stranger. Was it a trick of light or had the man's head jerked slightly, as if catching a sound? Nay, that was impossible, especially when even the elves' own ears had difficulty picking anything out from the rain.

Yet the man was unmistakeably warier now than he had been a moment before, and began to stealthily walk towards the tree harbouring Legolas. Feeling less sure of himself- a state quite unfamiliar to the eldest son of Thranduil and Heir to the Greenwood- Legolas took a deep breath and called out.

"Halt, intruder!"

His smooth, silvery voice rang clearly, though his unpractised tongue carved an accent onto the Westron words. The hooded figure froze and lowered the boot that had been raised to take a further step. Saying nothing, the man stood calmly and raised his head slightly to look up the tree, without the usual glancing about to search for the source of the voice, as if he had known exactly where the archer would be. In case the stranger thought that one elf would pose no threat to him- an assumption that he would definitely regret, especially if the elf in question was Legolas- the three archers also made themselves and their readied weapons visible from their respective trees. The man's head did not move, yet the elf-prince felt his gaze flicker sideways to look at the one nearest to them. He would not be able to see the other two without turning his head, but again came the sensation that he knew exactly where they were.

Increasingly unsettled by the man's silence in the face of potentially mortal peril, Legolas called out once more. "Know you, Man, in whose land you are trespassing?"

The voice that answered him was low and slightly hoarse, yet the delivery had a smoothness worthy of an Elf. "I am called Ranel, and neither bring nor intend any evil towards you. I have heard tales of the Fair People living deep within the Greenwood," said the intruder, slowly raising an empty hand to pull back his hood. In the dimness, all that could be seen of his face was that it was clean-shaven, with high cheekbones and prominent eyebrows. Locks of sodden dark hair were plastered against the sides of his head, though most of it was held back by a large piece of cloth that had been wound about his brow; the stain of the cloth suggested that he had been wearing it thus for a long time. "If you are of this folk, might a weary traveller ask for some spare food and directions to a safe resting place for the night?" His speech, like his stance, held no trace of fear or anxiety despite the deadly arrow tips pointed at him.

Hidden from view, the remaining two dozen Greenwood warriors had been patiently awaiting further orders from their fair-haired captain; they now looked at each other in surprise and slight bemusement at the sight of Legolas' brow furrowing in thought, for rare indeed were the times that the King's Heir displayed uncertainty so clearly .

Legolas was, indeed, conflicted. Whilst it was not entirely uncommon for groups of men or dwarves to wander off the Road and stumble into elves merry-making in the open wood, this supposed traveller had ventured far closer to the hidden Halls of Thranduil than any unwitting and unled mortal ever had before. The captain resolved to have a word with the western border wardens on duty this week, for the man should have been challenged and redirected long before this point.

But for the moment, he was caught between his natural distrust of strangers- and a man, on top of all- and the elven law of hospitality. For the intruder had politely and very clearly asked for food and shelter in what promised to be a dark and stormy night. As far as Legolas knew, he had harmed no elf, and on his own likely posed little threat to even one fully-armed warrior. If he had fought them, or even caused a disturbance by committing the aforementioned stumble into the midst of a celebration, then the elves would have had the right to forfeit hospitality. Technically, he could be held accountable for trespassing, yet the Firstborn of Ilûvatar held themselves as creatures of honour, and the man could not be expected to know that he was trespassing when there were no markers to indicate the boundaries of their land. Furthermore, it seemed unfair to deprive him of food when he probably left the forest-track due to a lack of it; it seemed that an inability to plan their own food stores for a journey was yet another limitation of mortals. In any case, the son of Thranduil could not very well refuse his request without compromising not just his personal honour, but that of his father's House.

Sighing in defeat, the eldest son of Thranduil nimbly dropped to the ground. "There is a place not far from here where you may have both. My name is Legolas, and I shall lead you thence."

Switching to the Silvan tongue, he called out orders to his warriors: "Continue on to the suspected site. Put a guard around it, but do not move until I re-join you." Not wanting to deplete his company for the stranger's sake, yet not trusting the man to find their hidden station himself- much less set him loose into his father's lands- Legolas had decided that he, as the most skilled warrior amongst them, would be sufficient as both guide and informal guard to their unwanted 'guest'. Their current mission was not overly urgent, and could wait until Legolas had politely but firmly shown the intruder out of Greenwood.

Once his company had left the area, Legolas nodded at the waiting man and led the way towards the hidden station. Though the archer was hardly one to get lost in his own territory, he was nevertheless startled to find that the forest about him seemed changed; it was only after a moment's thought that he realised he had not travelled through it at ground level for many years. A few minutes on the ground already had him yearning to be back amongst the trees, but it would be discourteous to his temporary guest to lead him half-seen from the branches. He reminded himself that, above everything else, he was a King's son and Heir.

"Do you not trust me to find my own way, Master Elf?" the man spoke up suddenly.

Silently hoping that the stranger was not attempting to lure him into conversation- it was trying enough having to tolerate being sociable when in his father's court, and he had neither patience nor motivation to do so with a trespassing mortal during a wet evening- he quickened his pace and answered shortly, "Would you trust an uninvited stranger to roam about your home?"

To his surprise and dismay, the man matched his pace easily. He had been correct- the stranger was of a height to him, and their stride-lengths were the same. The heavy rain and soggy debris littering the forest floor would have impeded most mortals, heavy-footed as they were, but this one moved nearly as easily as Legolas. He was clearly a woodsman.

"If I were one of your folk, would you treat me with such suspicion?"

"If you were one of my people, you would know better than to venture out of your home in the rain before nightfall," the archer replied irritably, wondering at the purpose behind the questions. He was tempted to explain to the man how courteous he was already being. And point out just how discourteous he could become.

"I did not mean one of your folk here," the man persisted. "What if an elf from another land visited? Would you trust them with just directions, or escort them as you are doing me?"

Legolas blinked, jumping up onto a large, half-decayed tree trunk and balancing easily on it. "An elf would have stayed on the forest-track." His left foot sunk into a pile of organic detritus as landed on the other side.

A loud sigh came from within the deep cowl; the man had put his hood back up, though he could hardly get any wetter. "I shall re-phrase the question: do you distrust me for being a stranger, or for not being an elf?"

Normally it took a great deal to incite anything in the way of an emotional response out of Legolas, but he was wet, trapped by honour into escorting an unknown man around his wood with the night setting in, had left his half-green troop in order to do so, and intensely disliked being forced into conversations. Only his well-honed self-discipline prevented him from inflicting bodily harm upon the stranger. "Is it a custom of your people to interrogate those who deign to show you kindness?"

Perhaps hearing the words being ground out through clenched teeth was indicative enough of his dwindling patience- the man's tone turned placating. "My apologies, Master Elf. It is a fault of my own, to be perpetually inquisitive. I did not mean to be rude; truly, I am grateful for your kindness and hospitality."

The simmering archer only nodded in reply, not trusting himself to say anything civil just yet, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

The station was a concealed platform atop a young beech that looked the same as any other, save for small signs known only to the Elves of Greenwood. A number of such platforms had been built at various strategic places throughout the Greenwood, even in areas uninhabited by their folk. There were other, more secret stations, known only by the captains and used sparingly. Legolas climbed the tree first and let down a ladder made of slender rope. He noted that the man, despite casting a dubious look at the ladder, climbed it easily enough, though his soaked cloak and large pack hindered him.

Once they were sheltered from the downpour by a discreet semi-natural roof made from some of the living branches of the tree tied together, Legolas rummaged through the small trunk of supplies hidden under a false floor and handed the man a spare cloak, then lighted two torches cradled by natural forks in outlying branches. His companion put down his pack and sword-belt, then quickly began stripping off his clothing and hanging them on sturdy limbs nearest to one of the torches so that they may dry. The elf assumed that he would only remove the outer garments, so when the man pulled off his inner tunic, the eldest son of Thranduil suddenly blurted out, "What are you doing?"

The man carefully laid the garment amongst the others before turning back to face him. Golden torch-light brought out the ridges between smooth, honed muscles on his bare upper body. All muscle, the old trainer in Legolas noted, but not overbuilt. His broad chest, wider than an elf's, was sparsely covered with thick, curling hair the same darkness as the locks on his head. The elf usually found men's excessive coverage of hair distasteful, but on this stranger it looked… as if it were as natural as the hair on his head. "I need to get dry, else I take sick from the cold," the hoarse voice answered, breaking Legolas from his musings. The man blinked. "I apologize- do you find this offensive?"

Shaking his head, the archer replied, "Nay, I was simply surprised." And had forgotten that the constitution of men was more delicate than that of elves. Legolas had been considering doffing his tunic, but it would have been for purposes of comfort and efficiency, as the cloth would dry faster if he laid it near the fire as the man had. Now he decided to keep it on, to make a point that elves would not get sick from the slight chill caused by cooling water. Seating himself down on the wooden floor opposite his 'guest', he saw that the stranger was smiling bemusedly at him, as if guessing his rather petty thoughts. He glared at the man, which only caused the smile to broaden.

This was certainly the most aggravating mortal he had ever met- worse than bargaining with dwarves! He tossed, a little harder than necessary, a cloth pouch containing dried meat and bread to the obstinate Edain. Legolas felt a strange relief that the man had kept his trousers on. And he seemed to have forgotten about the piece of cloth around his head. The spare cloak had been used as a towel and lay with the other garments around the torch-fire. "Now that I have fulfilled your request for food and shelter," the elf found himself saying into the silence, "would you care to explain what you are doing in our wood?"

The man bit eagerly into the meat; he clearly had been hungry. "I am a wanderer seeking to learn more about the world. It is said that this used to be a great forest stretching from Fangorn to the Mountains of Lune. I have never ventured this way before, and so headed for it immediately. I hope to visit Dale, and perhaps go even further east."

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. Something about the other's light and easy tone brought the next question flowing out of his mouth before his mind could catch it and hold it back: "Where else have your travels taken you?" It took him a moment to realise that he was actually encouraging the other to speak to him, and he winced at the note of eagerness in his voice. It seemed some other spirit was in control of his body tonight; small mercy that the stranger did not know more than his name and would be gone by the morrow.

Yet the man smiled kindly, not with the mockery or scorn that the elf had been expecting but with the true delight of a storyteller faced with interest in his tale. "I have seen nearly all there is to see west of the Misty Mountains. I have seen the northern Kingdom of Arnor and a little of the southern Kingdom of Gondor. I have met noblemen and wildmen alike, and aside from their clothing there is, I must confess, little discernable difference between them," he added with a twinkle in his eye, his cheekiness eliciting a chuckle from Legolas, to the elf's own surprise. "I have trafficked with dwarves in their mines deep within the Blue Mountains and Iron Hills. I have even met some elves from Lindon and Rivendell. Have you any relations there? I may have spoken with them."

The archer averted his eyes. "We of the Greenwood seldom venture out of our forest."

He felt the other's surprise. "Have you ever done so?" inquired the man. Fair skin flushing to a light tint of red, Legolas shook his head.

After an awkward silence, the stranger commented with a note of apology, "Your forest is beautiful. I can envision being content, to live in it and see no other for all my life."

Legolas nodded, and feeling that it was not enough, forced out, "Thank you."

The night passed without incident, though the elf's eyes developed a tendency to drift towards the sleeping figure of the man. There was something wholly contradictory about him- at rest he seemed as large and bulky as any other mortal, but when he moved it was with a startling grace; by the marks on his palms, he used his sword more than the usual simple traveller did, yet he had almost genteel manners compared to the mercenaries Legolas had encountered along the borders; there was something both approachable and familiar about him, and at the same time an other-worldliness that the elf had never sensed from any of his fellows before. A part of him wished to like the man, to get to know him better; so he resisted it all the more, feeding his irritation at being forced to be a man's caretaker when he was meant to be leading his company on a mission.

Inquisitive, disrespectful, offensive to nose, ear, eye....

Although, once he had the time to properly consider him, the son of Thranduil had to concede that his guest had some aesthetic appeal, even to an elf. He was a little grimy, and unkempt from journeying, yet the archer could see the fine features underneath. Legolas wondered how old he was, but being unfamiliar with the aging process of mortals was unable to even guess a figure. Though from his recounting of his journeys, he must have been travelling for a score of years, at the least. Had he a wife, children, waiting in a hitherto unmentioned home?

As his eyes appraised the half-bare masculine form laid out on the wooden floor- what do they need all that for?- Elf found himself fascinated by the slight difference in skin colour between the areas regularly exposed to the sun and the skin usually covered by clothing, for elves were as unaffected by the Sun as they were by cold rain and frozen snow. Yet despite his precautions with his sodden clothing, the man was clearly far from being delicate or weak. In fact, even in repose he exuded a warrior's wariness. Doubtless his years on the road had given him cause to develop instincts that warn if danger approached. After noting his brawn, Legolas wondered if he had greatly underestimated the man's strength- should he have brought another of his warriors, just in case? Though the stranger truly did not seem to intend him any harm. His eyes went back to the hairs on the man's chest.

I wonder what it would feel like to run one's hands over them, maybe give them a firm tug...

Eyes widening, Legolas vigorously shook his head, as if the action would dislodge the thoughts within. What was he doing? Such thoughts were unseemly for one of his station, especially if the subject was a strange man he had met but hours before! Even in the Greenwood, only Silvan warriors deigned to… involve themselves in such a fashion with others of the same gender, for it had been part of their culture long before their Sindar rulers came amongst them. It was said that the Noldor Eldar publicly condemned such relations, and that the races of Men were even stricter in their views.

He was not given much time to re-order his thoughts, however, for the next moment he suddenly heard a familiar whistle from the south. It was designed to sound like a native bird-call, yet much louder than any bird's lungs could manage; such signals were used by the warriors of Greenwood to communicate to each other over long distances of dense forest, without attracting attention or giving away important information. The species of the bird-call was specific to the signalling group; this one came from Legolas' company.

Within a heartbeat, the elf was on his feet and gathering his things. The man had also awoken, and looked at him questioningly as Legolas hefted his bow and eyed a neighbouring tree with a physician's calculation. Sparing a backward glance, the archer commanded, "Wait for me," before disappearing into the forest.

The son of Thranduil knew that he had to reach his company at all costs; he should not have left them, some of those warriors were on their first mission! Unfortunately, it was the burden of leaders to make a judgement on what actions would be the lesser evil. He could only hope that this first time he gave his trust to a mortal stranger would not lead to regret.

~*~