A/N: Story time! Sorry, guys, for taking so long!

Legolas took off for the makeshift camp at a fast sprint, even by Elven standards. The sounds of battle picked up by his sensitive ears only spurred him on, making him a blur to the observer.

The giant eight legged insects snapped furiously at the terrified men. They had never seen the likes of the huge creatures and were frozen in their steps. Legolas took deep breaths as he surveyed the damage already done. A couple handfuls of dead, a few injured, but most were cowering, hiding in what they thought were safe places. The Elves that weren't bound fought fiercely, staving off the attack considerably well, especially in their current condition, but they were losing fast. It seemed as if an entire colony of spiders had shown up to bombard the company.

Legolas spotted one of the Haradrim archers hiding behind a bush a few feet away. He was shaking so hard he kept dropping the arrow he was meaning to shoot. Legolas crouched low and ran, unseen, to the dark branches shielding the unfortunate man.

"Give me your bow," the Elf hissed.

"What?" the archer asked in shock. The man may have been scared, but he was not stupid. It would be his head if he gave one of the prisoners a weapon with which to fight and kill with.

"Give me your bow, human!" Legolas demanded again. He glanced in the direction of the battle and grimaced. Another human had just fallen and the spider was advancing slowly, knowing she had won her prey. "Do you want your men to die or not?"

The man relented and handed the poorly made wooden object over to the tall being. He unbuckled his quiver and gave that to Legolas as well. The Elf-Prince had cocked the arrow against the string and had let it fly faster than the human could see. His head snapped back to stare at Legolas in amazement.

Legolas crouched lower still to the ground and advanced on the spiders. He killed the one his father was grappling with and let another arrow fly to injure the spider that was about to prick a fallen soldier in the back. The black arachnid screamed in pain and scurried up a nearby tree, disappearing in the dark mass.

Legolas rushed to his father's side. "Ada, how do you fair?" he asked worried.

"I am fine, ion nin, but you must go and fight! These men are dying!" Thranduil collapsed against a tree, watching his son take complete control over the battle and fight the creatures almost single-handedly.

Aragorn loped into the clearing, breathing hard, but fresh and ready to kill. He grabbed a dead soldier's sword and swung, beheading a large female spider in one stroke. Between Aragorn and Legolas and a few other Haradrim, most of the spiders died at either the stroke of the sword or the whistling of an arrow let fly.

They made quick work of the remaining hairy beasts before seeing to the wounded. Aragorn ran around frantically, applying athelas to this, burning shut a cut to that. Legolas, however, sought out his own kin. He gathered them together away from the fray, scanning each body for injury. They assured their Prince and King that they were fine.

"Where is Lumlier?" Legolas asked after his thorough inspection of the seven subjects before him.

Then, a human that had always been kind to the Elf Prince no matter what the circumstance had been shouted, "Legolas! One if your kin has fallen! Over here!"

The Elves' faces paled at the bad news. Legolas seemed too shocked to move, his eyes were wide and his breathing had ceased. Falacas gently wrapped an arm around his captain's shoulders and led him forward. Thranduil had already knelt beside his advisor's side, checking for the sign of life. His head snapped up in surprise.

"He's alive! Aragorn, come quick! He's still alive!" the Elf exclaimed in joy. The Gondorian's eye brows shot up into his sweating hairline and he ambled over, obviously dubious. He checked the Elf's pulse, and he, too, was shocked.

"Check him for a spider wound. His pulse is too quick and faint; he's fading fast. I need to apply athelas to the wound. Hopefully it will slow the poison until we reach the palace." Thranduil nodded and quickly located the pen point sized puncture oozing blood, pus, and already turning green and purple with infection. Aragorn shook his head, his lips in a tight line. "We may be too late." The human gently pressed the plant into the wound, making Lumlier flinch and whimper in his close-eyed unconsciousness.

Aragorn shook his head again after ten minutes of tense staring and waiting. "I'm sorry, Thranduil. If the blood hasn't stopped its flow by now, it probably will not. He's going to bleed to death unless you can get a healer to him in a couple of hours. I am no expert in spider wounds and I can do nothing further. I am sorry," he said again.

The Elf nodded once to show he understood. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, hoping to find answers in the pain. He sighed and finally looked up, seeking after his foe. Legolas followed his father as Thranduil walked with purposeful steps to Damean.

"My Lord," the older Elf began respectfully. He thought if he was polite enough, the human might just show some mercy. "My advisor, Lumlier, has been poisoned by the spider venom. He needs immediate attention. If we depart right now, and we ride hard, we will reach the palace in a few hours time."

Damean had crossed his arms, and let his full lips pull into a frown. He actually seemed to be considering the option, but shook his head and turned away. "Let him die. One less Elf does not matter to me."

Thranduil made a sound of disbelief. "You must be jesting. Lumlier has been my friend since before I can remember! I will not stand to the side and watch him fade away in complete agony."

"In case you haven't noticed, slave, I am in charge here, and what I say goes. If I say the Elf dies, then you will let him without further annoyance thrust upon me." Damean walked away, counting dead soldiers along the way.

Thranduil turned to his son. "Legolas, do something! Lumlier is dying!"

Legolas nodded once. "I will see what I can do."

"Hurry!"

Legolas followed the path of his captor. "Master, please let my father ride to the palace! Lumlier is fading fast and Aragorn's skills do not extend so far in the knowledge of spider wounds."

"Legolas, what do you wish me to do? My hands are tied!"

"They are not! You are a king, for Valar's sake. You can do whatever you desire!" Legolas exclaimed. He placed a hand on the tanned shoulder and spun Damean around so fast he was almost knocked to the ground. The human slapped the Elf soundly across the face, leaving a fiery red handprint on his cheek. Tears sprung to his blue eyes, but he squashed them down quickly.

"Do not touch me!" Damean roared in fury.

"Will you listen to me now?" Legolas asked, his voice begging. "Please, just let us ride to the palace and save my friend. It would mean so much to me."

Damean narrowed his eyes a bit, but did not strike him again. "And if I let you do this, what will I receive in return?"

Legolas thought for a moment. The only thing Damean was interested in was his body, but Legolas wasn't willing to give that up until he was absolutely desperate. However, if push came to shove he would submit. The Prince raked his mind, trying to find something that would make him agree. Legolas leaned in close in whispered in the human's ear, sending shivers of pleasure and anticipation through his body with the hot breath and the words that it carried.

"Agreed!" Damean said with a leer.

Legolas opened his mouth, his face angry, but then he did a double take. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"I said, we have an accord."

Legolas mouthed dropped in happiness. He laughed out loud and whooped. He jumped into the surprised human's arms and wrapped his legs around his waist, embracing him hardly. Damean, although not expecting the intimate touch, received it warmly, even though just moments before he'd ordered the Elf not to touch him. He'd have to punish him later, if he remembered.

"I must go tell Ada! Please, get ready as fast as possible! Thank you, thank you!" Legolas said in one big word jumble. He pecked Damean's cheek very lightly and jumped down, running off to find his father.

Damean's mouth hung wide open in astonishment. The Elf had willingly offered his services, hugged him, and kissed his cheek. Maybe things were turning around for the better.

Thranduil stood close enough to see, but too far away to hear. He watched the exchange between his captor and his son, debating whether or not Legolas had finally gone mad. Willingly touching that vile man was something Thranduil would never do, yet his son threw himself into his arms. It was certainly a madness the older Elf did not understand.

Legolas sprinted over, his eyes shining bright teal with excitement. "Ada, he has granted us permission. Hurry, we must make a contraption that Lumlier can lie on."

Falacas and Mandolin fashioned a gurney (without wheels of course!) and tied two ropes to the front, then fastened them to the pommels of harnesses on a couple of horses. Legolas nodded in satisfaction; the horses were sturdy and broad and did not spook in the slightest. They laid the injured and delirious Elf on the soft blankets and made sure he was strapped in tightly.

Damean rode up on Legacy, surveying the eight fussing over one. "Legolas, you shall ride with me. I have two dozen of my best soldiers accompanying us as well. Is something wrong?" he asked when the Prince pulled a face.

"Your men will slow us down," he said frankly. "We cannot ride two to a horse if we want to get there before he dies."

Damean sighed loudly and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Very well, they all get their own horse," he said in a bored voice. "You are insufferable, you know that, Legolas?"

"So I've been told," the Elf replied cheekily and mounted in front of the human. He turned back and eyed the waiting Men and Elves. "Are we all ready? Let us be on our way! Noro lim, Legacy, noro lim!" The horse flicked his ears back to the voice of the Elf then pricked them forward and snorted. He plunged into such a gallop that Damean was almost thrown from his back. The human clung to his consort's waist in fear. Legolas grinned broadly and whooped. The soldiers followed close behind.

They rode hard through an hour and a half, taking shortcuts through the forest only known by the Woodland Elves. Legacy was soaked in sweat and he trembled, but he surged on, letting the Elf master on his back know he would not stop until they'd reached their destination.

Finally, Legolas pulled back on the leather connected to Legacy's bit, reining him back to a trot. He could see the city's gates about two miles ahead of him. Already Elves had the gate open and were coming out, expecting their King, not a human. Legolas signaled the two Elves leading the draft horses dragging Lumlier to him.

"Go ahead of us and take Lumlier to the Healer's. He needs to get there as soon as possible. We will walk from here; the horses are tired." The Elves nodded.

Damean raised an eyebrow and a one-sided smirk graced his lips. "Since when did I grant you permission to give out orders?" he asked with amusement.

Legolas blinked and lowered his head. If this got him into trouble, he would kick himself. "You did not. I am sorry, master."

"Master? Since when have you been submissive?" the human asked. He pulled aside the blonde hair in front of him, exposing Legolas' neck. He locked his lips on a patch of skin just below the mithril collar and bit and sucked.

"I've been thinking since the nightmare I had. If you succeed in the overtaking of my home, however much I resent you and hate you for it, I should be obedient. I mean, I shall only receive punishments when I act out of order, so why not save my skin from abuse and just serve you?"

Damean took this all in while still suckling on the Elf's skin. "You know," he said when I finally let go," for someone who looks so young, you sure are wise."

Legolas smiled. "I am far, far older than you think."

"Oh yeah? If the myths of the immortality of the Elves is true, then you definitely are old, as you say you are. But you look not a day over."

"That is because once Elves reach their majority they rarely show signs of age. Their appearance may change just a little, but they forever look young."

"What is the age that you reach your majority?" Damean asked, honestly curious about the ways of the creatures he would soon rule.

"Fifty," Legolas replied.

"And how old are you, my love?

"Two thousand, three hundred and ninety," he said.

Damean whistled in amazement and appreciation. "Wow, you are old. Have you ever wed?"

"Once, yes. She died during childbirth, bringing my son down with her," Legolas said quietly. The subject was still touchy and he would rather not talk about his deceased lover and child.

"I am sorry, Legolas, truly I am," Damean said, a sadness that he couldn't comprehend beginning to well up deep inside him. "Have you taken anyone else since?"

"Yes, I have a lover, but we have yet decided to wed. In the Elven world, sex means marriage unless both Elves mutually agree not to bind themselves to each other."

"Is she beautiful, your — lover?" Damean swallowed thickly. He didn't even stop to think that Legolas might have a wife and children.

"Yes," Legolas breathed. "She has such golden skin that she rivals the sun. Her hair is dark brown, like the bears you men hunt. And her eyes, oh her eyes. The Elders that have seen the sea say her green eyes rival that of the waters of Ulmo."

"She sounds like a wonder," the human said. "What am I to do with her, then?"

"What — what do you mean, master?" Legolas brows furrowed, creating deep wrinkles in his creamy skin. "Surely... you would not kill her."

"No, certainly not, I couldn't have you hate me, now could I?" Damean chuckled at Legolas obvious sigh of relief. "But she is a slave, Elf, you know that. What am I to have her do? And what about your father and your brothers?"

Legolas chewed on the inside of his lower lip. "I was hoping you would let them be."

"Let them be?" Damean roared with laughter. "Legolas, they are slaves!"

"They are nobility and royalty!" Legolas exclaimed, his voice rising a couple of notches. "They deserve to be treated as such!"

"Legolas, you are not helping the matter! I was giving you say in the decisions I am making about your kin's' future, but if you want no part..." Damean trailed off, leaving his reply to the guesses of the Elf.

"My father was born a king, and my brothers' princes. They deserve to live their life as they were born. Why must you make them slaves?"

"Because as a King, I must show that I will not tolerate rebellion and disobedience. Slavery is the only way I can ensure that. If I must have a mass execution, I will."

Legolas felt tears prick his eyes. His family and his people were doomed. "What can I do to make you stop this?"

"Nothing, slave. My father and I have been planning the overtaking of Middle-Earth since — before I could remember. First, it would be Gondor, then we were to take Rohan, but you, my dear, proved more useful and tactful. Were it not for you, Rohan would be getting ready to enter my domain as ruler."

"But, there must be something I can do, something to make you treat my family and people with the dignity and respect that they have had since Ilùvatar created them," Legolas pleaded. He wouldn't have an execution if he could manage it.

Damean sighed. "Legolas, you do not understand. The Elves — they'll rebel against me. Slavery is the only way I can keep them under control."

"We don't need to be controlled!" Legolas snapped angrily as he pulled Legacy to a stop. "We've been perfectly fine to manage ourselves since my kin left Valinor after the Darkening. My Grandfather and Father have done a magnificent job in ruling. The only thing you shall succeed in is razing Mirkwood into the ground!"

Damean grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and yanked back, exposing the Elf's pale neck. "Watch your tongue, slave, or I will have it removed."

Legolas swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I apologize, master," he said through gritted teeth.

Damean narrowed his eyes and pulled his head back further. "I do not believe you, slave. Do not make false statements toward me." Legolas lowered his lashes, keeping his gray-blue eyes hidden so as not to let his flashing fury show.

A cool, hard voice called out, startling the human king. "Unhand my brother, Human, and I might spare your life."

Damean turned his head slowly and looked down at an Elf pointing a razor-sharp arrow at him. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I wouldn't be making threats at your overlord, slave."

"I am a Prince of Mirkwood, and I am ruled by no one except my father, the King of the Woodland Realm," the royal Elf said.

"I wouldn't be saying things that I knew nothing about if I were you, slave," Damean said, his maniacal smile still in place.

"I will not say this again, Human, unhand my brother and leave my land, before I have you killed."

"Rome, do as he says," Legolas whispered in Elvish, his voice weak and defeated.

"Brother? What is happening?"

"Romenthelas, please. Lower your bow ere you are hurt. He is our King now; we are but slaves."

Rome furrowed his eyebrows. "I do not understand, Legolas. What happened during the rescue mission? Father, did not explain much before he left, only that you were to be executed."

"The mission went horribly wrong. This Human is now the ruler of Mirkwood; the price Father paid to save me."

"What?" Rome hissed. "You must be jesting, brother. This human cannot be a... a... ruler. He is barely older than Eldarion."

"Would I be wearing a collar if he wasn't!" Legolas roared. The pain in his scalp and the stressful situation had finally begun fraying his last nerve.

Damean loosened his hold when he realized he was hurting his consort. Legolas rubbed his hand to his head and risked looking at his brother. Romenthelas was fuming, though his bow was lowered.

"How could you have let his happen, Legolas?" he finally asked, their conversation still flowing in rapid Elvish. "This realm has been standing for millenniums against the Shadow, and now, we are defeated by a mere Man?"

"Do not blame me, Romenthelas!" Legolas exclaimed, leaning forward in the saddle. "I told Father to reconsider, I told him to sacrifice me for Mirkwood."

"So you wish me to blame Father?" Rome asked, his anger rising.

"No! I just — I mean — it's not my fault," he finished lamely. He lowered his head, letting his hair curtain his face and his fast falling tears. He finally looked up, surveying the older Elf through bloodshot eyes. "I am sorry to have failed you, brother," he whispered in the Common Tongue.

Damean looked from brother to brother, guessing about what they had just conversed about. "Go," he murmured in the Elf's ear.

"What?" Legolas asked incredulously.

"Get down and go to your other brother and your lover. It is only fair that I let you discuss things over with them without my depressing presence. Take your father with you."

"Thank you, my Lord. That is very kind of you," Legolas said, dismounting with ease. He tucked his simple, red cotton shirt into his black cotton leggings and smoothed his brown boots. He may be in slave clothing, but he could still make himself look presentable.

"I will be right behind you, love. Report to me when you are done. You as well, Thranduil."

Thranduil inclined his head slightly, showing he understood. He, too, dismounted and led the roan mare behind him. Father and sons walked side by side to the awaiting royal family. Legolas' oldest brother, the heir to the throne, had a richly adorned arm wrapped around his comely wife's waist, their children, a girl and a slightly older boy, waiting in front of them. Romenthelas' wife held a baby wrapped in a light purple blanket and held a small, male Elf child at bay with her pale hand.

As if on cue, all three small children ran forward, attacking Legolas with hugs and shouts of welcome back. Legolas knelt and laughed with joy, returning the hugs and kisses with vigor. "I have missed you all so much," he nearly whispered.

The Crown Prince of Mirkwood stepped forward with grace and refinement. Only his overly bright eyes betrayed his blank face and nonchalant posture.

"Brother, it is under these good times that we have you back. You have been missed," he said. He stepped forward with outstretched arms, inviting his younger sibling to hug him.

"I have missed you, as well, Aldenuir. But these good times are about to flee us. Father and I have much to explain in too short a time," Legolas said, his hands still clasping his brother's shoulders.

"We shall give you the shortened version, Aldenuir," Thranduil said, also stepping forward and embracing his daughter-in-laws, and first born.

"Damean, the human that I had been riding with, was in the process of killing me, when Ada arrived. The human said my life or the whole of Mirkwood."

"Naturally, I chose my son," Thranduil interjected.

"But Ada!" exclaimed Aldenuir and Romenthelas at the same time.

"Do not tell me you would not have done the same, Alden, Rome, Legolas. You have or had sons; you know the feeling I had, the feeling that you would do anything to keep them safe."

"But Ada!" interjected Aldenuir. "You gave away Mirkwood, our home. You did not think with your head! You thought with your heart! If there is anything Grandfather would've taught you, it would have been to leave your emotions in your bed, where they belong."

"Aldenuir, we may be in a slight predicament, but I am still your father. Do not raise your voice to me like that!" Thranduil drew himself up and let loose his famous temper, aiming it at his heir.

The younger Elf shrank back in obvious fear. "You are right. I am sorry, Ada. Forgive me?"

Just then a shriek split the air. A young female Elf was running full force at the small company. Legolas recognized her as one of his sergeant's wife and dearest friend, Fallandra. (A/N: It's pronounced fell-ANNE-druh) Her long hair flew behind her as she neared the Elves. Legolas risked looking back at Falacas. Three humans had seized him from his horse and had him kneeling on the ground. He struggled, but a swift kick to the ribs quieted him, if only for the moment.

"Prince Legolas!" Fallandra exclaimed. "My King, Thranduil! We are so pleased to have you return safely!" She curtsied low before the old Elf; he nodded, a smile adorning his handsome face. She turned to do the same before Legolas, but he stopped her.

"This is not a time for curtsies and politeness, mellon nin," Legolas said, hoping she understood his subtle hint.

Fallandra's sharp mind started turning and worry creased her perfect brows. "Where — where is Falacas? Did he fall in battle?"

"Falacas is not yet deceased," Thranduil spoke. "But —"

"Ada," Aldenuir spoke sharply. "This is not the time for everyone to know."

"They will know sooner or later, Alden, why not now? I have known Fallandra since before you were conceived, my son. She has a right to know." He turned back to the she-Elf. "Mirkwood has been overtaken — by Men. We are their slaves now."

"What?" she whispered, shock evident on her face.

Just then, Falacas managed to get an arm free, and he punched a soldier in the nose, successfully breaking it. He swung another punch, but one of the humans caught the fist and twisted, spraining it. Falacas cried out in pain, a noise that Fallandra recognized.

She looked over Legolas shoulder and gasped at the manner in which her husband was being contained. She yelled angrily and was about to take off running, but Legolas caught her waist, holding her back. "Stop!" he ordered. "If you interfere, it will only make it worse for Falacas."

"I cannot stand by and do nothing," she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

Legacy stamped his right front hoof, pawing the air. Damean gripped the reins, trying to keep his mount under control. The horse continued to roll his eyes and snort, showing all the signs of fear, or annoyance. The human finally turned to his soldiers, since Legacy was directed his fiery toward them.

"Let the slave go!" he ordered. The soldiers looked from their King to their captor, obviously thinking they had misheard him. "I said, let him go!"

The humans relinquished their hold on Falacas and he fell forward, hitting the hard, packed earth with his palms. He recovered quickly, however, and rushed to his beloved wife. The couple hugged and kissed fervently, each visibly relaxing.

Damean rode forward. "Come, Legolas. Let us be inside before more of those dreadful beasts come to attack us."

Legolas looked up at his master with his brows creased. "I was... I was hoping to spend time with my family. I have not been gone long, but much has transpired since then."

Damean considered letting his slave stay with his brothers and father, but shook his head. "No, Legolas, I have been nice for far too long. I cannot continue to give in to you. The act of saving your poisoned subject was the last favor I do for you. From now on, you earn everything you get. Is that clear?"

Legolas' brows creased further. He was unmistakably confused and worried and scared of the implications of the human's words, but he nodded nonetheless. "I understand, sir."

"Very well. Now please, let us be inside your city gates."

The Elves turned simultaneously and walked across the bridge that led over the river and into the city. Many of the Elven-King's subjects were there to welcome him back, along with their beloved Prince and Captain. But they were in for a very rude awakening. Damean dismounted and strutted straight to one of the royal advisors, an Elf of high nobility. He handed his reins to the shocked Elf and headed for the polished stone steps that led to the elaborate wooden doors of the palace.

Legolas quickly took the reins from the still shocked Elf and apologized. "I am sorry, Nindolen. He — he did not recognize you as a noble Elf."

"It is quite all right, your Highness. It was amusing to see the human do such. But I advise you to send him away soon; he is too arrogant, and will surely abuse the servants in the palace."

"If only you were wrong," Legolas murmured as his watched Legacy being led away by a stable boy.

"Your Highness?" Nindolen asked, confused.

"You will know in time, mellon nin."

"Legolas, hurry up! I will not walk through my palace without a guide," Damien said from the top of the steps.

Nindolen looked from his Prince to the pompous Human with an angry expression. "Human! Apologize!" he ordered. "You have no right to demand anything from a Prince of Mirkwood."

"I have every right, slave," Damean announced. "Detain him," he said to two of his best foot soldiers in his army.

"What?" Nindolen gaped as the men gripped his arms and attempted to lead him away. "Unhand me!" he struggled and broke free, whipping out a small knife concealed in his boot.

"Daro!" Thranduil thundered, stopping the three beings in their tracks. "Nindolen, set down your weapon and go with them. Saes, mellon nin."

Nindolen was as confused and frightened as ever, but he complied. "You must explain this to me, my King."

"I will, I will," he promised in a soft voice.

Legolas, satisfied that there would be no bloodshed, ran up the steps, taking them three at a time. Damean gripped his arm and pushed him to the doors. "Do not openly defy me again, Legolas."

"I did not defy you!" Legolas said indignantly. Damean slapped him soundly. Nearly every Elf in the courtyard witnessed the display and each harbored feelings of confused anger. A few tears escaped the Elf's eyes, but he wiped them away and nodded. "I am sorry, master," he whispered, remembering being submissive was his best bet.

"Good boy," Damean murmured and stroked his pet's hair a few times. "Now, lead me through this palace. It looks quite small. How do you fit all the apartments for all your subjects in here?"

"The palace is cut into the mountain side. It is quite vast, once inside," Legolas supplied softly.

Damean made a noise and walked through the doors. His expression changed from skepticism to open awe. A grand archway ushered them into an expansive hall, where servants scurried about, heading off to do one task or another. A large marble staircase with a deep red carpet and wrought iron railing curled around in a 'C' before the doors, leading to the throne room and the apartments.

Damean stopped, just content to stare at the grandness of it all. "I never would've expected something so beautiful from Wood Elves. It's just — exquisite."

"Thank you, master."

Damean took Legolas' hand and ventured forward. "Lead me to your rooms, my love."

The Elf wrinkled his nose at the term of false endearment, allowing just that small peace of rebellion surface, before squashing it and heading for the staircase. He took the large hall to his left and led Damean through the palace, watching out of the corner of his eye at the open mouth and wide eyes. He took his next right, straight up another staircase, and finally coming to another corridor, slightly smaller than the first one they had taken.

Legolas stopped in front of double doors carved from wood. He took a deep breath and turned the handles. He pushed the doors open to reveal an extravagant sitting room. Two plush couches of a deep blue color and two more overstuffed chairs of a forest-green color sat by the fireplace and the window. The floors were of marble, but a vast carpet that matched the furniture covered the center.

Damean spotted the door that led to Legolas' actual bedroom. The human grinned and strolled to the open door to find an even more lavish room. The large, four poster bed was bigger than his back in Harad. The floor was once again marble covered with rugs and the loveseat and reading chair before another large fireplace matched the ones in the sitting room.

Legolas' lost weapons, his precious bow and knives, lay on his bed. Damean spotted them almost at once and quickly decided to take care of the problem. He snapped the fine string in two and thrust it into his pocket. The bow was rendered useless, followed by the few arrows left in his quiver that were snapped in half. Damean knew not what to do with the knives so he strapped them to his belt, next to his sword.

Legolas knew his dark blue eyes were watering again. He felt so stressed and unhappy that he didn't know where to begin. Damean finally seemed to notice that his Elf was crying and cocked his head, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Legolas gestured to his once beautiful weapons that he took so much pride in.

Damean breathed in, realizing what had made the Elf so upset. "It was a precautionary, Legolas. I can't have you impale me with an arrow once you get the chance."

Legolas, although still crying, seemed to except this statement and lowered his head, twiddling a braid between his fingers. Damean, though he seemed cold, felt his heart warm at the sight. "Maybe — maybe when I feel I can trust you completely, you can have them back."

Legolas lifted his head, his eyes bright and wide. "May I have your word on that, master?" he asked softly, his voice choked with tears.

"Yes, little one, you have my word," Damean kissed his forehead and went back to the sitting room. "Where do you suppose your father has disappeared to?"

"He might be in the Great Hall, awaiting you," Legolas said quietly.

"Oh, right. Um... do you have parchment and a quill?" the human asked.

Legolas nodded and went straight to his desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. He uncapped the inkwell and brought the objects to his master. Damean murmured words of thanks and quickly scribbled out a note. "Give this to Hyrum and come straight back to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Legolas said with his head lowered. He delivered the note with apprehension. His father stared at him, his eyes boring a hole into Legolas' head. He met Thranduil's eyes once, letting his fear show in his blue orbs. Thranduil gasped at the bruise on his cheek, in the shape of a handprint. Legolas averted his eyes and took off back up the staircase and disappeared around the corner.

Hyrum read the note and sprung into action quickly. "Listen up, Elves!" he roared, bringing the noise level to a zero. "His Majesty's orders have been delivered by his whore. You are to rest or whatever else you desire until the evening meal. He wants all of you to attend. Any funny business, any at all, and you're punishment will be so severe you will wish you had never been born. The punishment will also include a mass execution of the inhabitants of this realm."

The Elves gathered in a small knot and Thranduil began speaking in his native tongue, not worried about being caught. "Go to your homes, visit your parents, children, siblings; anyone and everyone. Tell them all that you know and try to smuggle them out. Please use the secret routes; let no one use any of the main roads. We do not know when the humans will show up or where.

"I can imagine that this will be difficult for you, but you mustn't fail me. Get your families out without raising suspicion. I know you will want to leave as well, but we must be present tonight. Send your families to Imladris or Lothlorien. If you want to risk it, send them to Rohan. Let them take the fastest horses, royal ones if necessary. Damean will do nothing until tomorrow or the day after. May the Valar be with you."

Meanwhile, Legolas had reached his rooms and he crouched just to the side of the doors, weeping silently. He had tried several times to stop himself, but found he could not. The young one felt so helpless. Elves were supposed to be the superior race — faster, stronger, smarter. How could they have been overtaken? Legolas couldn't help but think that it was his fault that the entire chain of events had occurred.

Just then, a young Elf maiden turned the corner in a rush. Her sea-green eyes lit upon the crouching Prince and she ran to him. "Legolas, my love!" she exclaimed.

Legolas raised his head, a surprised look on his beautiful face. "Lithuial!" Legolas hurriedly stood and embraced her tiny, thin frame. "Oh! It is so wonderful to see you again. I have missed you so."

Lithuial returned the hug with just as much vigor. "When did you get back? Are you hurt? Is everyone all right? How did the rescue mission go? Valar, I am so happy to see you; you've been gone for far too long."

Legolas, although he was bubbling with joy on the inside, assumed a serious expression and held Lithuial tight. "Listen to me, love. You must get out of here," he said in whispered hush. "There is not much time to explain, but we've been overtaken, defeated, by the Haradrim Men. They will kill you just to get to me. Please, take only what you need and escape before it is too late."

Lithuial's eyes clouded with fear and confusion. She tried to pull herself from the embrace her lover had her in, but he was stronger. "Legolas, what is going on?"

"Please, please just escape. We will break free someday, and I will come for you," he pleaded and promised.

She broke out in tears. " I don't want to leave you," she gasped through her quiet sobs. Legolas shushed her and stroked her soft, brown hair.

"You must, love. You must," Legolas urged her. She nodded and let her tears fall unheeded. Standing on tiptoe, Lithuial kissed her lover goodbye and ran down the corridor, to her rooms to grab a few essentials, then head out.

Legolas took a deep breath and straightened and smoothed his clothes and hair. He knocked on the door to his rooms, then entered. Damean was standing next to the window by the fire, gazing out across the expansive view. Legolas went to him and hoisted himself up onto the window ledge, letting his legs hang over.

"This has always been my favorite view in the house. It is why my father let me have it when I was deemed old enough to move into a bigger room. It used to be a — uh — guest room for visiting kings or princes, but I got lucky."

Damean wrapped an arm around the Elf's slender waist and rested his cheek on his hunched back. "It is mine now, too."

Legolas knew what the human was saying, that he loved the view and it was now his favorite as well, but he interpreted it differently. To him, it meant that now, Damean owned that, too. Something nobody had ever owned before was being dominated. Legolas breathing hitched and he turned to face Damean.

"I'm — I'm sorry, for being weak and crying like a child, but I cannot help it. Everything I know is turned upside down, and I can't seem to control my emotions."

Damean felt heartbroken. He had caused this beautiful creature so much pain, and he was only making it worse. He slid his hands underneath Legolas' legs, his other supporting his back, and lifted him up. The human smiled widely at the astonished Elf in his arms and twirled him several times.

In spite of himself, Legolas laughed out loud and found himself having fun and enjoying the human's touch. Damean, not wanting to ruin the moment, but also wanting to prolong it, resorted to tickling. His strong fingers danced across the Elf's midsection and sides. Legolas giggled, slightly out breath. "Stop! Stop!" he pleaded.

"Not a chance," Damean replied, his eyes glinting with mischief. He continued tickling the poor Elf's aching sides, when Legolas gasped loudly in pain.

"Ow! Ow, stop! Stop, please!" he cried. Legolas clutched his side and scooted away from the Man, as if he was afraid the pain would intensify if he was closer to him.

"Legolas — ?" Damean was worried; Legolas could see it in his eyes.

"The brand," he said. "You ripped the scab off. I can feel it bleeding."

Damean's mouth fell open and he crawled to his consort's side. "I'm so sorry. Let me help! Let me take you to the Healer's Wing."

Legolas could only nod before he blacked out. The human picked him up in the same manner as before and ran to the open door.

"Help!" he cried throughout the deserted halls. "Please, somebody help me!"

A couple Elves came out of the nearby rooms, but they did not speak the Common Tongue. Damean waved them off and took off in the direction of the entrance of the palace. There, it was still as lively as before; Elves coming to and fro with minor tasks.

"Please, help me!" Damean pleaded to the Elves. Most stopped and stared at the human, not noticing the unconscious Prince in his arms. "Where are the healers located?"

A young Elven soldier, just a few years past his majority, stepped forward. "Is that the Prince, human?" he asked in heavily accented Westron.

"Yes, yes," panted Damean. "Please! The healers! Where are they?"

"Give me the Prince, I can get him there much faster. Have one of the staff direct you there."

The King of Harad reluctantly put his slave in the arms of the Elf. The soldier was off in a flash, disappearing more quickly that Damean could've thought. A maid took his elbow and tried to pull him forward, in the direction of the Elven soldier that had taken Legolas. But Damean's attitude had returned and he yanked his elbow from her touch.

"Do not touch me!" he hissed. "Just lead."

The Elf maiden was taken aback. Who was this human to disrespect her in the house of her employer? She did not speak much Westron, but she understood enough to know that he wanted to get to the Healing Ward. Again, she gripped his elbow, softer this time, hoping he would get the message and follow her. But, again, Damean removed it from her grasp and pointed and shouted, "Lead me!"

Understanding that bit, the Elf turned on her heel and went straight to the Ward, not slowing down or looking back to make sure he was still with her.

Legolas groaned as someone gently prodded his side. The pain returned and intensified, leaving the Elf short of breathe. He felt soft pieces of cloth pressed against the wound and a hand smooth the wrinkles from his forehead. "Your Highness, open your eyes," said a soft male voice. "Wake up, my Prince. Wake up."

Legolas opened his dark blue eyes and blinked a few times at the sudden brightness that hit him. He squinted and looked at the Elves surrounding him. He groaned again and tried to sit up, put a gentle hand on his shoulder and the stinging in his abdomen persuaded quickly to keep his body prostrate.

"Your Highness, can you tell me who did this to you?"

Legolas matched the soft voice to the Healer standing next to his bed, pressing the cloth against the bleeding brand. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the words that had been told to him, but he found he could not. He opened and closed his mouth futilely.

"How did this happen to you, Legolas? Can you tell me how you got this brand on your side?" said the Healer again. Legolas fixed his eyes on the Elf's and struggled to get the words out.

"Damean, the Human," Legolas breathed out. "I was... I was disobedient and he had to punish me."

The Healer recoiled as though it was he who had been burnt. "What?" he hissed. He looked at the Elf warrior that was stroking his Captain's locks. "Where is this Human?" the Healer demanded. "I want to kill him with my bare hands."

Legolas whimpered, his eyes barely open. "Don't. He will kill you."

"My Prince, I hardly think this Human could kill me. Close your eyes. Rest."

Legolas whimpered again, but complied. He was lost to the world in ten seconds. A soft glow hovered around his being, emanating from his pale skin. His body was healing itself. The Healer nodded, then turned his gaze to the warrior. The young Elf stood and moved away from his Captain. "Legolas will never forgive me if I don't return to my duties," the warrior said with a small smile.

The Healer nodded in understanding. "If you see any of the Royal family, send them straight to the Healing Ward. I am going to keep the Prince here for as long as I possibly can."

The warrior nodded and went to the heavy wooden door that served as an exit as well as an entering portal for the Ward. His hand reached out to pull the door open, when it opened, as if on its own accord. A dark-haired, smelly Man rushed past the Elf, not seeing him. His green eyes found his slave almost immediately. Damean went to the bed, staring down at the blonde. A tanned hand stroked the sleeping Elf's cheek possessively, but not unkindly.

The Healer, suspecting whom the arrogant Human was, spoke. "Do you have any idea how close His Highness to Mandos' Hall?" he asked. Damean glanced at the Healer, his eyes wide. "This - this - this punishment nearly cost him his life. A few more hours and that infection would have been far too spread for me to heal. Only Elrond Half-Elven could have saved him and Legolas would have been rotting in the earth before a plea for help even reached the Last Homely House."

"Peace, Baracil," said a deep voice behind the Human and the fuming Elf. Thranduil was standing in the doorway.

A/N::sheepish grin: Hi guys! I suppose saying sorry won't make up for the insanely long time it took me to update will it? Oh well... Honestly, I don't think this story will advance too much farther. I'm kinda losing interest in it, and I've got no more ideas. I'll let you guys know if I'm going to discontinue it, okay?

Replies to Reviews:

Riva Van Dyk: Thank you very much for sticking with me, throughout that huge period of absence. I am sorry to have let you down, but here's another chapter! I think I am going to dedicate most of the next chapter to Elladan and Elrohir, but who knows how long that will take or how it will turn out. Thank you, again!

The Random Scribbler: Lol, oh man, where do I start with you... Well, your previous review was quite all right. On some levels you were right, and I love your use of the word "bloody" throughout it. Thank you for taking interest in my fic, and thank you for your offer on being my beta. You know I had one, and I didn't write for so long, that we kind of lost touch. If I find my story is lacking something, I will definitely call for your help. Again, I found you were right when you wrote that I have been trying too hard. I've just been pumping out stuff to keep my reviewers appeased, and I didn't care how it came out, y'know? I guess that method doesn't quite work. Thank you for your review.