Legolas' Seat

by erobey

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Gandalf/Legolas

Summary: Let us pretend that Legolas was a regular messenger from Mirkwood to Imladris, but as yet had not had opportunity to meet Gandalf, though of course he had heard of him! This story takes place just before the Council of Elrond and is a fun tribute to Sir Ian's portrayal of Gandalf and his comments regarding slash fic!

beta'd by Sarah AK

Category: Humour

Disclaimer: All the characters and places were originally created by JRR Tolkien and are the property of his estate.


Chapter Three

Legolas had never before found the journey through the resplendent halls of Elrond's magnificent abode to take so long, be so tedious, or so lacking in means to secure anonymity, but this day he experienced all three sensations concurrently. With eyes cast down and head bowed, the youthful First Born let his long legs carry him with less than lightness and grace toward his modestly appointed room in the guest wing of the Last Homely House. Because he was looking more at the confused thoughts and feelings whirling through his brain than the corridors he traversed, the hapless elf carelessly careened into a side table, overturning it and spilling a lovely arrangement of blue irises to the floor as well.

In dismay he knelt to clean up his mess and thus failed to observe the stately elf whose head peered out from the portal of the library to learn what all the commotion was about. It was Erestor, venerable countryman of the Lord of Imladris and trusted advisor to the sheltered valley's protector. The noble Noldo could not suppress a grin of delight at the sight before him, admiring the slender build and unparalleled beauty of the barefoot, sylvan elf.

Having nothing else at hand to use to sop up the large puddle of water from the broken vase, Legolas had removed his short tunic and was mopping up the water with the rumpled garment, unconsciously displaying a rippling invitation to open-mouthed ogling in the fine-toned muscles of his archer's physique.

The elder elda sighed a wistful and hopeful breath. That sound caught the youth's attention and he froze.

"My, my! Legolas, what a sight you are! Have you no clothing, no shoes for your feet? Mind you, I am not complaining of the view, just expressing my curiosity!" joked Erestor, and was unprepared for the volatility of the Wood Elf's response.

"Oh!" Legolas jumped up in consternation and turned to see the bemused, flirty expression upon the noble's face. He then glanced down at his own body and ruefully twisted the wet, wrinkled tunic in his fists, blushing darkly to have so affronted Elrond's seneschal.

"I, I do have clothing, Lord Erestor! Forgive me, I was out early this morning and thought to be back hours ago, and, and . . . Excuse me!" The agitated elf could not come up with any rational explanation for his irregular appearance and suddenly turned and bolted madly down the hallway; desperate just to be as far away from this latest humiliation as he could possibly get.

Legolas hurried toward his chambers, eyes bright with unshed tears, his tread heavy with the sorrow of his downcast heart. He had so wanted to make a good impression on Mithrandir! He had been trying terribly hard ever since he became a regular messenger to Imladris to make the elves accept him, and he had thought he was making progress in that regard until now.

The meeting with Mithrandir had been his undoing; Legolas could see that now. He had expected the wizard to embody the commanding authority only the wisest and strongest possessed, belying the physical appearance he presented when viewed from afar, even to keen elven vision. The Wood Elf had not been disappointed. One glimpse into the Istar's sharp, piercing black eyes and the power and majesty of the Maia had been openly revealed. Legolas had been deeply disturbed, for it seemed that gaze had read to the very depths of his heart, and thereafter he felt the wizard's presence physically, a dynamic force dancing through his being.

Now, just thinking the renowned Istar scorned him had turned the Wood Elf's perennial grace and charm into lead-footed stumbling and tongue-tied stuttering! The youth was so overcome with his embarrassment that he failed to notice when a door opened onto the hallway and an elf emerged into his path. Legolas plowed headlong into the unsuspecting elda and down they went in a crash of flailing arms, legs, and hair. The Wood Elf stared in stricken remorse at his victim, none other than his dear friend Elrohir, one half of the famed team of Orc hunters from Imladris.

Elrohir smiled, not in the least upset to find himself entangled with a beautiful, nearly naked sylvan. "I am flattered, Legolas, really I am! However, my heart belongs to Glorfindel!" the younger twin quipped.

"Sorry!" Legolas exclaimed and paled as he tried to disengage himself without touching the Imladrian prince anywhere improper. "I was not watching where I was going!" The young elda offered his hand and helped the Noldo up. And then his friend's words registered more clearly. "Glorfindel? Really?"

"Do not be worried, no harm is done!" said Elrohir, brushing down his hair and smoothing his tunic. "Aye, Glorfindel!" He smiled gently at his friend's surprise, but Legolas still seemed beset by woe.

Elrohir looked carefully at the youth; something must be amiss for Legolas to be so careless, he realised. One glance at the glittering brilliance of those blue eyes was all that was required, and suddenly Elrohir understood that the Wood Elf was on the verge of tears!

"Legolas, whatever is wrong? What has happened to upset you so?" The Orc slayer became alarmed as he registered the elf's state of undress and the damp, crumpled garment still grasped in his hands. "Does this have something to do with why you are carrying your tunic instead of wearing it?" If someone had been rough with Legolas, Elrohir did not know what he would do. The very idea of someone taking advantage of the young elf made him murderously enraged! Why, Legolas was an innocent, barely past his majority!

"Aye, it does, but?Oh! Nay! Not like that, Elrohir! I have not been . . . that is . . . no one has . . ." Legolas blundered incoherently, trying to defuse his friend's rising wrath.

Elrohir gripped the young elf's arms and gazed deeply into the watery blue depths, trying to discern the truth of this garbled denial, and relaxed a bit.

"You are certain, Legolas?"

"Elrohir!" Legolas blushed again. "I think I would know!"

"Alright! I am glad; I have no wish to murder one of my own countrymen for besmirching your honour, my friend!" the dark-haired prince grinned at Legolas' exasperated eye-roll and threw his arm affectionately around the slender shoulders. "Then tell me what is the matter? Come, you will feel better when you have told me all about it!" he coaxed as he guided Legolas down the hall to the room at the very end, which was the one assigned to the Woodland elf.

"Ai! I know not how things have turned out so badly! Everyone in Imladris must think me a backwoods country cousin, uncouth and ill mannered, with no sense of decorum or grace! I fear I have just confirmed all the negative ideas that abound concerning Wood Elves!"

"Surely it cannot be that bad!" laughed Elrohir as he ushered him in and shut the door.

Back in the library, Erestor sighed and shifted the papers around on his overflowing desk. He was in no mood to resume his work after the abrupt and rather amusing encounter with the fair child from Mirkwood. Especially after the things Lindir had told him earlier. Public sex! Gandalf and Elrond watching! He could hardly believe it, and indeed was so sceptical he had sent Lindir after the Halflings to gather more information. What ever was taking the minstrel so long to return?

If he had known Legolas was so uninhibited about sexual matters, Erestor would have propositioned him long ago! The Wood Elf had everyone thinking he was still untouched, for Menel's sake! He was quite alluring in a charmingly simple sort of back-to-nature kind of way. Oh, he lacked the refined elegance of Lindir and the stately roguish charm of Glorfindel, but he was undeniably an incredible beauty, and Erestor found that he was more than a little aroused.

Images of the finely toned back, velvety skin rolling as the hard, well-defined muscles flexed with the elf's efforts to scrub up the floor, kept invading his mind and scattering his thoughts. When he ought to be carefully reading a trade proposal for horses from Rohan, he found he was imagining what the rest of Legolas' body was like unclothed. Erestor thought of the long, slender feet and vividly pictured what this might portend for a certain other area of elven male anatomy. The raven-haired seneschal smiled a lewd, lascivious leer and licked his crimson lips hungrily.

As Erestor was thus engaged in an incredibly erotic daydream involving Legolas, silk scarves, and the very desk where he was seated, Lindir hurried into the room.

"Erestor! It is far worse than I could ever have imagined!" the minstrel spoke as soon as he was in the room, and Erestor jumped, called out of his pleasurable wool-gathering.

"Why? How is knowing our young Woodland friend likes it rough and randy a bad thing?" demanded the Noldo noble.

"Oh, you best put all such thoughts from your mind, mellon nin!" cautioned Lindir. "Our Woodland friend is bedding none other than Elrohir! When Glorfindel finds out he will be blinded with jealousy! I would not want to be in Legolas' place!"

Erestor's eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open, and Lindir nodded sympathetically, knowing just what the seneschal was feeling.

"Elrohir? That cannot be right!" Erestor intoned in shocked syllables.

The two Noldor were so intent upon their topic of discussion that they failed to hear the faint tread of elven footsteps drawing near the library door, which still stood open from Lindir's hasty entrance. At the mention of the Lord's youngest son, the unseen elf halted in mid-stride.

"Of course it is not right! How can it be right to have wild public sex with someone else's soulmate?"

"Nay, Lindir! Think on what you are saying! Would Elrond stand by and calmly watch his youngest twin take part in such an exposition with anyone, much less that backwater sylvan?"

"WHAT!?"

This loud exclamation echoed from the hallway and made both elves cringe even before the intrepid Balrog slayer strode into the library, eyes blazing with fury and every muscle tense right down to his huge, hard fists. Glorfindel grabbed Lindir by the collar of his tunic and shook him roughly.

"That is a lie! Elrohir would never bed that Wood Elf! Where is he? I will kill him!" he shouted out in a rapid stream and shoved the minstrel back against Erestor as he wheeled and practically ran from the room.

"Oh no!" groaned Lindir.

"Hurry, we must get Elrond, only he can stop Glorfindel!" Erestor urged his friend into action and the two took off in the direction of the Healing Wing of the venerable house.

Meanwhile, Pip and Merry strolled companionably into the stable yard and entered the cool, shaded corridor of the immaculate barn. The place smelled of sweet hay and crunchy oats, and that delightful aroma of horse that is just unlike any other scent. They heard someone humming and approached the stall from whence the sound emanated. Dragging a bale of hay over to aid in discovering the occupant's identity, they climbed up to see above the wall and smiled broadly at the man within.

"Strider! How are you this morning!" called Merry.

"I am well, my friends!" the Ranger grinned back and continued currying his horse's coat. "What are you two up to today? I do not believe I have ever seen you near the stables before."

"We were told Mirvain is here. Have you seen him?" rejoined Pip.

"Aye, he is in the stall at the end on the left. What do you want with him?" the man asked, curious. The small folk were more often than not fearful of the spirited elven horses, and Mirvain was possibly the most spirited of them all. "It is better to leave him be!"

"We became interested to meet the one who has such a strong claim on the Wood Elf! Legolas told us he spends every free moment with Mirvain!" replied Merry and the two jumped down and hurried to the stall indicated.

"Alright, I suppose he should be in good humour after a morning with Legolas!" They heard Strider laugh and then resume his pleasingly tuneless melody.

The Hobbits again required the assistance of an opportune bale to see over the imposing walls of the stallion's stall. They peered admiringly at the coal-black equine in the box.

The imperious steed was calmly munching a mouthful of hay, lazily lounging with one back leg bent at the knee and the hock, dipping his hip at a rakish angle, which gave the impression he was slouching against the wall with his legs crossed. Mirvain gazed from one to the other of the peculiar little beings and twitched his ears as he blew a loud snort through his nostrils.

The Hobbits drew back, and Pip frowned; he could almost swear that horse smirked at them! He shared a perplexed look with Merry and both jumped down and trotted back to Strider.

"He is not there, Strider," began Merry petulantly.

"What? If that is so we must catch him at once! Mirvain has a wicked temper and could harm someone!" the human exited the stall and hurried down the hallway, stopping with a relieved breath when he reached Mirvain's abode.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded of his small friends in irritation. "He is right there! Did you look in the wrong stall?"

It was then that Pippin noticed the beautifully polished golden nameplate above the stable door, elegantly engraved with the name Mirvain. He elbowed Merry and pointed, and the second Hobbit stared for a second and then burst out laughing. The two were soon laughing so hard they were doubled over and weeping.

"Glorfindel's favourite stud!" Merry choked out.

"Riding all morning!" Pippin's garbled response followed.

Strider stared, smiling at their mirth but failing to see the humour in their joke.

"Care to fill me in?" he suggested, but it took a few minutes for the Hobbits to get control of their emotions. Finally, they wiped away the tears and told the man the entire tale.

Yet Strider did not seem to find the situation amusing, and the two Hobbits sobered up completely at that.

"I hope you have not repeated this story to anyone!" he admonished. "Gossip like that could ruin Legolas' reputation! He is already looked down on by many of the Noldor, as they do all the Wood Elves! If this rumour gets out, he will not be able to hold his head up! And should Glorfindel hear it, I fear for the young one's very life!" Strider briefly explained about his foster brother and the hero of Gondolin.

"Nay!" Merry assured him. "We already promised Sam we would not mention it to anyone!"

"Sam! Just wait till I get my hands on him! What was he thinking telling us nonsense like that!" Pippin seethed, for he had not imagined the outcome could be so unpleasant for Legolas. Then again, that is because he had been too caught up in the idea that ethereally beautiful Legolas was loose, immoral, and promiscuous. Remembering the kind and open-hearted demeanour of the young Wood Elf, he suddenly felt ashamed for having thought of him in such a dirty way.

Together, the man and the Hobbits left the stables, intent on going to Sam and setting him straight on the matter so no further misunderstandings would emerge from that source.