My Warriors, My Beloveds

Chapter 1: First Meetings (Or Why Are Blonde Elves So Annoying?)

Silvan Woodland Realm of Northern Mirkwood: 25th of March, 2969
Noon

A few hours ride saw the crossing of Forest River and the entrance into the Silvan Woodland Realm of Northern Mirkwood. Thorongil noticably relaxed as the band of men approached the elven stronghold. The group was extremely lucky to have avoided an incidences with Orcs in the fifteen day journey from Rohan.

Harry noticed the approach of a large white stallion. Upon it was a tall, broad elf with hair so blonde it was nearly blinding.

“Greetings,” the elf called out in a musical voice. “My heart sings to see thee, Eagle of the Star.”

“Glorfindel,” Thorongil said in disbelief. “What are you doing so far from Rivendell?”

“Oh, this and that,” the elf responded. “Lord Elrond saw interesting events approaching in Mirkwood. It has been too long, my friend. And pleasure meeting thee, lovely.”
The last was directed to Harry as sharp grey eyes evaluated him critically.

“A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting,” Harry responded softly, locking eyes with the elf-lord.

“I have heard much of thee,” Glorfindel admitted. “When Haldir of Lórien claimed that your beauty rivaled that of The Lady of the Wood herself, I was skeptical. It seems the marchwarden was not exaggerating. Your beauty shines bright.”

“I shall treasure your words in my heart, but I dare not compare myself to The Lady of Lórien. Now, shall we continue to safety? Orcs may yet be around,” Harry murmured with a blush, attempting to change the subject.

The blonde elf simply smirked and turned his stallion around, leading them forward to Mirkwood.
Thorongil cast a sideways glance towards Harry.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered to his emerald-eyed companion. “To even catch the eye of Glorfindel says much. He is known for his discerning taste.”

“Well he shall not have a taste of me,” Harry responded with a blush and an upturn of his nose.

The blonde elf’s keen ears must have heard Harry’s comment, as his tinkling laughter filled the forest. The youth silently glared at Thorongil for the rest of the ride.

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“Ever is thy sight a joy,” King Thranduil exclaimed upon sight of Harry.

“The Eagle of the Star brings missive from Rohan,” the youth replied, once again attempting to deflect attention from himself.

“Yes, yes. Of course,” the king responded. “The men must be tired. They may find rest in our homes and food at our tables. Our specials guests must allow us to provide them with the best accommodation.”

Harry deferred to Thorongil’s judgment in dealing with the king.

“The men are hungry, and food would not be amiss. But we would prefer to stay in close quarters to rest. Many Men do not know any elvish tongue, and few Elves speak Westron. We wish to avoid any unfortunate miscommunications,” Thorongil replied.

“Of course, of course,” King Thranduil agreed, eyes upon Harry all the while.
Harry shifted uncomfortably under the king’s heavy gaze.

“May I inquire as to the location of the baths? I am not used to such rigorous travel, and I wish to require early after a short wash,” Harry politely asked, desperately seeking departure from court.

“The public baths…” Glorfindel began, but was cut off by the king.

“No, no. You may use the guest baths. One of the servants will show you the way,” the king insisted as he waved a slender brunette over. She deeply bowed to the king, and then gave a lighter bow to the others.

Glorfindel and Thranduil exchanged a meaningful glance behind Harry’s back as the servant led him towards the prince’s private bathing chambers. Aragorn watched the exchange with keen eyes but did not know enough to warn Harry.

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Harry sunk deeper into the warm water, the bubbles covering him to his neck. The tub was elegant and spacious, and a much appreciated luxury after fifteen days of constant travel.

He sighed long and low, throwing his head back on the bath pillow and closing his eyes.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by the door to the bath opening.

“Did my father send you to my private bath?” the elf asked. “You are a pretty little thing, but I will not lay with a woman just to produce an heir. You can tell my father that when you explain why you failed.”

Harry sat up in the bath and glared into the elf’s deep blue eyes.

“I do not know who your father is, but if he is who I expect we are going to have problems. I am neither pretty nor little, and I am certainly not female. And I am attempting nothing other than relaxing, which I would not have failed in if you had not disturbed me,” Harry sneered.

The elf before him visibly faltered.

“You…who are you?” he asked, noticeably off-balance.

“No one you need bother yourself with. But if my suspicions are correct, you would be Prince

Legolas Thrandulion, heir to the Silvan Woodland Realm of Northern Mirkwood. You are exactly as Thorongil described, and King Thranduil did indeed send me here to bathe. Of course, telling me that these were your private bathing chambers would have thwarted his obvious intentions,” Harry informed him. “Now turn around so that I may get out and cover myself.”

“You are feisty, lovely,” the prince smirked. “And I am indeed who you say. And if ada sent you here, I imagine that you are Harry, son of James, as he is the only male the king would send to my private bathing chambers.”

“You still have not turned your back,” Harry pointed out, ignoring the prince’s other comments.

“Why should I? We are to marry, are we not? You do not have to be shy with me,” Legolas purred with a smirk.

“We are not to marry. I am not ruled by your king, and I do not have to do as he bids. And even if we were betrothed, that is not an excuse to forsake modesty. Now please turn around,” Harry responded.

“No, I think I shall join you in your bath, shy one,” Legolas claimed as he began to remove his tunic.

Harry’s eyes narrowed in anger, and Legolas was forcibly turned around by an invisible hand.

“You can have your own bath once I get out,” he spat as he quickly wiped bubbles off with a towel and dried himself. Harry quickly shrugged on a robe and moved to exit the bathing chamber.

“If you did not want me to watch, you should not have placed me in front of a mirror, Istari,” Legolas called to Harry’s back before he closed the door. “Your magic betrays you.”

Harry did not deign that with a response. He simply growled and stomped off.

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“What is bothering you, little one?” Aragorn asked as Harry stomped into the room. “Did you not enjoy your bath?”

Harry shot him a glare and grabbed a set of night garments obviously gifted to him by the elves. He glared at them with distaste.

“So many glares. Who angered you so?” Aragorn continued, wishing to know what was wrong with his beautiful companion.

“The king sent me to the prince’s private bathing chambers. He thought I was a woman upon first sight and accused me of attempting to seduce him under his father’s orders. When he realized I was in fact male, he attempted to enter the bath,” Harry spat out, still glaring at the night clothes as if they were the ones to anger him so.

“You stopped him?” Aragorn questioned, angry at his old friend for making his new companion uncomfortable.

“I used my magic to turn him around as I exited the bath. Unfortunately, I did not see the mirror in my anger,” Harry muttered, obviously upset that the prince had seen him naked.

“You do not have anything to be ashamed about,” Aragorn reassured him.
Harry simply stared at him with disbelief.

“What does that matter? The king purposefully set me up in a situation where the prince could violate my modesty and my privacy. If I did not have magic, I would have nothing to defend myself against unwanted advances. Legolas is both taller and stronger than I, and probably trained much better in hand-to-hand combat,” he explained as he sat on the bed.

“I am sure he would have stopped his advances the moment you said ‘no.’ He really is very honorable,” Aragorn assured.

“He was looking at me as if I was the last drink of water in the desert,” Harry replied. “I do not appreciate being made to feel as if I am an object. I am a sentient being, elf blood or no, and I do not belong to him. He seemed to think as if a betrothal would give him full rights to my body, despite my feelings otherwise. Now do you see why I was so uncomfortable to travel to Mirkwood? The prince does not seem the type to give up until he has what he wants. And no matter what the king may wish, the prince simply wants me in his bed. I would be just another conquest, and then I would be left to deal with the consequences.”

“Harry…” Aragorn trailed off, uncertain what to say to reassure his friend. “You are special. You could never be just another pretty face to warm his bed. Even if Legolas attempted to keep his distance, you have a way of worming into even the most closed-off hearts.”
Harry’s eyes met his, and the youth visibly faltered.

“Are you speaking from experience, Thorongil?” the young elf whispered quietly.

“I will not deny my affections,” Aragorn responded. “But I would never pressure you into reciprocating. I do not wish for this to make you uncomfortable around me.”

“I am not ready for a relationship of that nature,” Harry confirmed. “But I do trust you. Your feelings do not make me uncomfortable. I would like to think we are friends?”

“As would I,” Aragorn replied.

“Then that is how I would prefer to stay. I do not wish to repeat my grandfather and mother’s mistakes and leave a confused elfling in the realm of Man,” Harry whispered.

“Harry, I would take care of you if you fell pregnant. No matter who the father is. I am not saying this to encourage you to engage in relations, I just want you to know that I would take care of you,” Aragorn declared.

“That is very kind of you. But I wish to take care of myself. I am done relying on others for my protection. That is part of the reason Gandalf sent me on this journey; he wishes to encourage my independence as much as I wish to seek it. And I could not burden you with another man’s child,” Harry asserted.

“It would not be a burden. But know that if you fall pregnant because of Legolas – or any elf, for that matter – he will be made to marry you and take care of you and your child. You know elves are very protective of their young. It has been many years since the last elfling was born. In fact, you were probably the last, and your mother before you the second last. The elves just did not know of your existence, so they will favor any child of your body all the more,” Aragorn reassured.

“I do not wish to force any Man or Elf to marry me. Any union of mine must be desired by both parties. I do not wish to make any child of mine grow up believes themselves to be a burden,” Harry said sadly.

“As you did?” Aragorn questioned softly.

Harry’s sad emerald eyes met his enquiring grey ones.

“As I did,” he confirmed forlornly. “An Elf should not be made to grow up in the house of Man. Especially when one’s aunt was envious of her sister and can take her jealousy and anger out upon her sister’s child.”

And that ended their conversation. Aragorn turned his back as Harry changed into his sleeping clothes, and the pair went to separate beds to think about their discussion and certain revelations.

Neither got much sleep that night.

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Coming Soon: 26th of March, 2969. Aragorn and Legolas have a confrontation. One is half-way in love; the other is madly in lust. Too bad it is with the same person.