This is my first LoTR slash fic, so hope you like it. Reviews are very much appreciated. :) Calhuan translates to "hound of light". Read and Review!
Legolas listened to his father in disbelief. He had not meant to anger Thranduil, but he could not continue as he had for the past three years. The protection of secrecy only extended so far, and he wanted more than that. He would not allow society to keep him bound in heavy chains, no longer. He had not chosen the path on which his feet led him. He heart had chosen for him.
"My son," the king continued, although Legolas had not been listening, "There are some things that are expected of you. As the crown prince of Mirkwood you cannot abandon all of those expectations that the people hold for you."
"That you hold for me." Legolas' voice was sharp, but not wholly unkind.
"As the prince, you have duties to your people and to your realm. You shall find another, I know you shall."
"You would know well, would you not, father?"
"I loved your mother."
"There is no need for you to lie to me. I am no longer a child." Legolas pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and paced round Thranduil's chamber.
The king sighed. "Legolas there will be another. Do not bind yourself to something that is . . . . temporary."
"I will never love another."
"Love? That is a strong word, ion nin." (My son)
"As are my feelings."
"Legolas . . . ." Thranduil knew he would regret his words, but could find nothing else to say. "Take him as your lover, if you must. At least that way, you can live as you should."
"Lover? You would have me shut him in the dark, only because you are ashamed of him?" Legolas yelled. "No! I would never dishonor him like that! You take a lover! That way you may get that heir you want so badly! For I will not be him!"
"Take your damned crown!" Legolas snatched the circlet form his brow and flung it at his father's feet. The metal clanged against the stone. He turned sharply and strode from the room.
He ignored the startled looks he received from the few servants that had crowded around the door. He clenched his hands into fists. How dare his father suggest such a contemptible thing! He jumped in surprise when a hand grabbed his wrist, thinking it was his father. Legolas was shocked to find himself staring into two deep sapphire eyes. They pierced his soul. Legolas shook his head slowly and, reaching up, took a long wisp of the ebony hair between his fingers. The other elf entwined his fingers with Legolas' own, and then touched the hand to his lips.
His voice was but a whisper when he said, "Farewell, my lord." He then bowed, and walked away. The cool indifference cut Legolas as any dagger would. It made no difference to him that this knife was an unseen one. He felt that slash across his heart would never heal. Indeed, it never would.
Legolas found his way to his bedchamber, but it seemed dreary to him. He stumbled out of his tunic and collapsed onto his bed with a broken sigh. The soft voice echoed in his mind. It came to him without his calling it. Oh, if only the one who spoke those words would come to him!
"Alas," he thought to himself, "It is not so." He was unable to sleep. What rest there might have been for him was gone, vanished into the night. The elf pulled a cloak over his shoulders, for it was bitter cold, and went out from the palace. The guards at the entrance heeded him little, thinking him some servant on a night errand for his master. They were partially correct, for his heart was indeed a cruel master.
He wandered down to the river, and, kneeling beside it, looked at his reflection. It seemed distorted and distant, twisted even. He felt that way. As an old rag rung out too many times. Once more, and Legolas felt he would break. Even as he stood, the soft crack of a twig betrayed a presence behind him. with his mangled senses, Legolas had not heard them approach. He turned, and found himself looking into a familiar face. The stars were mirrored in those mournful sapphire eyes.
"Calhuan, what are you doing here?" Legolas asked in surprise.
"I could ask you the same thing, but I will not waste my breath." He had a startlingly deep voice. "My lord."
"Mana, melmenya? Mana?" (Why, love? Why?)
"I cannot go against my king." said Calhuan. He avoided looking Legolas in the eye.
Legolas took a step toward him, and Calhuan stepped back. "Would you go against your prince?"
"You are the prince no longer, or did you so quickly forget, my lord?"
"Do not call me that." Legolas stepped toward him once again, and the dark haired elf did not retreat, but only averted his eyes. Legolas took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, and forced Calhuan to look him in the eyes. "Am I not the same once who you once professed to love?"
"Things have changed."
"Legolas . . . . you cannot make me go against my king." Calhuan tried to push Legolas away, but the elder of the two held firm.
At any other time the sound of Calhuan saying his name, like the whisper of a hand upon flesh that is separated by only a thin film of silk, would have made him shiver as the words flowed over him. Yet now was different. Calhuan's voice was tinted with temper, like a sword dipped in poison.
The sound of hooves broke the silence that had enveloped them. Legolas' hand dropped to his side and he stepped away. A guard from the palace emerged from the line of trees beside the river; his horse was sweating profusely.
"My lord." He addressed Legolas. "The king desires a word with you, immediately. He says it is of great import."
Legolas nodded and allowed the guard to disappear again into the wood before turning once more to Calhuan. "Are you certain?" He nearly choked on the words and his eyes were pricked with tears that he refused to let fall. The dark haired elf did not speak, but nodded. Legolas leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Farewell, Cal." Legolas was unsure why he used the pet name which he had given Calhuan when they were only children. Perhaps it was to hear himself say it, one last time.
Legolas walked away. His heart was torn.
When Legolas found his father, Thranduil was sitting on his oaken throne; a curled piece of parchment was on his knees. Legolas approached, and bowed low, as would be expected from one who is no longer the prince. The king stood, and took Legolas' arm, guiding him to sit on the dais by his feet.
"Sit, my son," he said softly, "I wish I did not have to tell you this, especially not now." He brushed a hand affectionately over his son's golden hair. "A courier from Imladris just arrived, to give me this." He waved the note. "Lord Elrond wants for you to marry Arwen."
Legolas' mind reeling, and the ground beneath him seemed to drop out from under him. How could he possibly accept when his heart was Calhuan's? Political marriages between realms were highly uncommon, but not unheard of. Thranduil's own marriage had been arranged. It was a vital tie between Lorien and Mirkwood during the Last Alliance, but it had torn both of them away from someone they loved. Little love had there been between them at first, but Thranduil and Ivren had learned to love each other, over time. The king had been devastated when his wife was killed in an orc raid. Legolas had only been a small child.
"Father . . . . you know I cannot accept . . . ."
"Legolas," Thranduil's voice was firm. "I am sorry, and I may one day ask for your forgiveness, for I have already sent my reply. I told him you would accept it with gratitude."
"No, no . . . . father . . . . I beg you . . . . you can stop the messenger . . . . there is time yet to catch him . . . . no . . . ."
"Legolas, it is final." He kissed his son lightly on the brow before standing and striding out of the chamber.
A breath shuddered from Legolas' body. It was surreal to him. Dawn would soon be there, and perhaps he would awaken from this hideous dream. Legolas folded his arms on the throne and buried his face betwen them while he wept.