Rúmil followed Elrohir out of Legolas' room, leaving his brother behind to tend to the wounded Prince. He was a bit shaken up by what had happened, including his own complete lack of assistance in fighting the troll. He had never seen a troll before, despite all the orcs and goblins and even wargs he had fought on the border of Lothlórien. The thing had been huge, and the fact that both of his brothers, Lord Elrond and Prince Legolas had all bravely gone forward to fight it impressed him.

"What sort of elf am I, that I would have turned tail and run?" he mumbled to himself.

Elrohir clapped a hand on his arm. "A wise one, who held no weapon. Do not trouble yourself, Rúmil, that you did not fight the troll. Neither did Elladan or myself."

"I felt fear, Elrohir," Rúmil admitted. They were halfway down the hallway and out of sight of any of the others.

"Who among us did not? Think you I was not afraid?" Elrohir asked gently. The hand on Rúmil's arm caressed him gently.

Rúmil looked at the dark-haired prince with wide eyes. "Legolas did not."

"Legolas is a fool. Look where it got him."

"That was an accident."

"Rúmil, you are not a coward," Elrohir said firmly. He wound his arms around Rúmil and tried to kiss him, but Rúmil turned away.

"Please, Elrohir." He put his arms around the son of Elrond and rested his golden head on the dark elf's shoulder, closing his eyes, but he did not feel up to much passion. Elrohir stroked his hair.

"Come back to my room, Rúmil."

"I would rather just take some rest alone."

"Ah, but you forget -- King Thranduil and Lord Glorfindel are in your bed. You might return to your room, but you would surely not take any rest."

Rúmil sighed against Elrohir's shoulder. He had already forgotten about the prank Elrohir had pulled on Thranduil and Glorfindel. He wondered if the two of them had discovered they were not with the partners they had been expecting yet.

"I am not looking forward to facing King Thranduil tomorrow morning," said Rúmil, his head still on Elrohir's shoulder.

"You will not have to."

"I will not?"

"No, for here he comes now."

Rúmil lifted his head in alarm and tried to let go of Elrohir, but the other elf tightened his grip around Rúmil. The King's expression was grim, his full lips set in a thin line. He stopped and looked at the pair of them appraisingly.

"I must thank you, Elrohir, for introducing me to Lord Glorfindel. And you, Rúmil of Lórien--"

"Rúmil played no part in the ah, introduction, King Thranduil," Elrohir said, lifting his chin. "I should not wish you to blame him for any inconvenience."

Thranduil's expression softened slightly and he smiled at Rúmil. "In truth I think I prefer what I got."

"And Lord Glorfindel?" Rúmil asked. It suddenly occurred to him that anything which the War Councilor might have suffered had really been intended for him, and this was not fair.

"I suppose you may ask him for yourself on the morrow," Thranduil said slyly, sending a chill down Rúmil's spine. "If you will excuse me, I would like to check on my son. I understand he was injured fighting a troll."

"He hit his head on a piece of one of the broken statues," said Elrohir.

The look of sadness that came to Thranduil's eyes reminded Rúmil sharply that there was another side to this elf than the brash, commandeering King. At least, Haldir always said there was more to him than met the eye and right now Rúmil believed it. Thranduil was a loving father. This was one thing Rúmil had often envied Legolas. He and Orophin had been raised more by Haldir than their parents, who had sailed for Valinor when the three of them were mere elflings. Galadriel and Celeborn had insisted the three of them be left behind, for some reason Rúmil knew not of. He barely remembered their parents now.

The bond between Thranduil and Legolas was legendary. Rúmil would have wished neither to grow up nor to raise an elfling in a place like Mirkwood, which was filled with far more dangers than even the Lórien border held, but he supposed that Thranduil had done a good job of it. Legolas was brave and good-natured as well as beautiful. Rúmil had never asked about his mother. She was never spoken of.

"Lord Elrond tended him, and Orophin sits with him now. You may have faith in my brother's vigilance, King Thranduil," Rúmil said gently. "Fear not for Legolas. He will recover."

"Thank you, Rúmil," Thranduil said in the kindest tone Rúmil had ever heard from him. The King turned abruptly and continued down the hallway.

Suddenly Rúmil wondered if fearing Thranduil and running away from the command that he should lie with the King had been a mistake. Haldir was right. There was tenderness in him, beneath the layers of royal bravado. He might be a magnificent lover. Did he really treat his bed partners the way Elrohir had insisted that he did? Perhaps he would ask Lord Glorfindel in the morning, if he dared. It was a too bold question to put to someone so far above his station as Glorfindel was.

Meanwhile Rúmil was left with the question of where to spend the night. He supposed his room might be empty now, or Glorfindel might still be there. In any event, he did not wish to sleep in the bed the two of them had been using and asking someone to clean it at this hour would be inconsiderate. The only option seemed to be Elrohir, but Rúmil's lust for his friend had burned out over the course of the evening.

"You should lie down," Elrohir said to Rúmil when Thranduil had disappeared.

"I am tired," Rúmil said, but Elrohir only chuckled. Rúmil let the son of Elrond take his hand and lead him to his room.

Elrohir's bed chamber was spacious and tastefully decorated, like all the rooms of Imladris. Rúmil sank down on the bed and Elrohir quickly joined him, offering him a goblet of wine. He thought back to how Elrohir had awakened him that afternoon and felt a stirring warmth within him. Rúmil quickly knocked back his wine and set the glass aside. Elrohir looked at him with heated grey eyes.

"You are beautiful, Rúmil," Elrohir said.

"Yes," Rúmil agreed. "Were I not, I doubt I should have found myself in your bed."

Elrohir reached up and stroked Rúmil's hair with long, pale fingers. He moved closer, leaning over Rúmil, pressing his lips against his mouth. Elrohir was impossible to resist, Rúmil thought. He closed his eyes as Elrohir's hands wandered over him, unfastening his clothing, stripping him expertly.

"Lie back, Rúmil."

Rúmil did as he was told. Elrohir coaxed a response out of him in small degrees, but he found himself lacking in enthusiasm. He let himself enjoy it, let the heat build inside, but the thrill he had previously found in the arms of the son of Elrond appeared to be missing. Maybe it was just that he was tired and not really in the mood for lovemaking. Maybe it was just that the incident with the troll, and Legolas, and then the encounter with Thranduil in the hallway had unsettled him.

"I think I love you, Rúmil," Elrohir said quietly into his ear.

Rúmil did not reply.