Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Greenleaf & Imladris 17 - In the Shadows	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 1620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-In the Shadows
- 1
Title: Greenleaf & Imladris 17 - In the Shadows

Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Elrohir/Legolas (implied)

Summary: After the Battle of the Hornburg, Legolas is reunited with the twins. A chance remark leads Gimli to conclude that appearances can be deceiving.

Disclaimer: I write only for my own enjoyment. Everything else belongs to that grand old wizard of storytelling himself.

Author’s notes: I have always thought Legolas’ comment to Gimli and Merry regarding the twins in The Passing of Grey Company a bit odd. I couldn’t resist coming up with an explanation for it.

In the Shadows

Rohan, Gwaeron TA 3019

“And have you marked the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir? Less sombre is their gear than the others’, and they are fair and gallant as Elvenlords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell.” ***

Gimli glanced up at Legolas bemusedly. Now that is an odd remark, he thought. You’d think neither the hobbit nor I had spent two months in Rivendell and ever laid eyes on Elrond’s twin sons.

The brothers had come with a company of Rangers of the North, meeting up with Rohan’s King Theoden and his riders near the Fords of Isen. They had given a message of guidance to Aragorn, their foster brother, from their father, the Lord of Rivendell. Thence, both companies had journeyed to the Fortress of the Hornburg in Helm’s Deep where Theoden’s forces had battled Saruman’s army just three nights prior. Here they sought to take counsel and snatch what rest they could for the remainder of the night.

The Dwarf and the Elf-prince had taken it upon themselves to rouse the hobbit, Meriadoc Brandybuck, from his slumber and, in the ensuing conversation, they had discussed the arrival of Aragorn’s kin in the Riddermark. It was then that Legolas made his perplexing utterance.

Gimli thought to voice his puzzlement but the irrepressible Merry had asked yet another question and their talk had turned to other concerns. Nonetheless, it niggled at the periphery of the Dwarf’s consciousness and continued to do so as they rode out later in the day with Aragorn and the Dúnedain to seek the Paths of the Dead, a journey deemed quixotic at best by some, and mad at worst by others. It waxed greater when he observed one of the twins looking in Legolas’ direction with a gleam in his eyes that was quite impossible to define.

Or was it?

Gimli tried to remember which twin was which. They were very alike, quite difficult to tell apart at first glance but not impossible after a more thorough perusal. Raven hair of an unusual blue-black sheen. Grey eyes verging on silver. Ah, yes, that would be the younger twin, Elrohir.

The one he had seen with Legolas in the waning hours of the previous night. The two Elves had spoken together before retiring for a few precious hours of sleep.

Gimli had woken up momentarily during those hours, unsettled by disturbing dreams. He had drowsily looked about and espied the Elves on their pallets amongst the Rangers. But the twin called Elrohir had not been asleep. Instead, he had been soothing Legolas who seemed to have been troubled by his dreams as well.

Gimli had woozily watched as the Elf-warrior curled a protective arm around the archer. It had calmed Legolas enough to allow him to fall asleep once more. Elrohir, however, had remained awake. It seemed to the Dwarf, as he was drawn back into the deeps of slumber, that the twin was guarding the Elven prince’s repose.

A piece of the puzzle in Gimli’s mind fell into place.

He had long discerned the close friendship between the Mirkwood prince and the sons of Elrond. That had been readily apparent to all during the Fellowship’s stay in Rivendell and reinforced by the archer’s warm greeting to them upon their arrival. But the Dwarf noticed a difference in the degree and nature of Legolas’ closeness to each brother.

With Elladan, the older twin, it was true comradeship, pure and simple. Their closeness was such that they were almost as brothers to each other. But with Elrohir…

Now there was something interesting here. Gimli was fairly certain more than friendship existed between his friend and the younger twin. How else to explain the odd feeling he’d had that, in remarking upon the brethren’s comeliness, Legolas had actually been referring to only one of them.

Gimli was no parochial Dwarf concerned only with his kindred’s doings. He was as curious about the world without as the proverbial cat. In his extensive readings, he had come across the Elves’ duality of nature and had eventually seen evidence of it in Rivendell and Lothlórien. While he’d been naturally disconcerted at first, he had come to accept the fact as just another facet of the mysteries surrounding the Firstborn.

He wondered if his Elf-friend had experienced something of this duality. With Elrohir perhaps?

He cleared his throat and gruffly addressed the archer’s back. “Just how long have you known the sons of Elrond, Legolas?”

The prince glanced back at him, somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. “We met when I was barely past my majority,” he answered.

“That long,” mused the Dwarf. “And I suppose you have been friends ever since.”

“Indeed. Why do you ask?”

A grin threatened to soften Gimli’s countenance. “I was struck by a remark you made before we set out,” he replied. “I find it interesting that you needed to impress their comeliness upon the hobbit and me.”

Legolas was startled. “Is there something wrong with appreciating the appearance of one’s friends?” he queried.

“Nay, but you spoke as if we had never seen them before,” Gimli explained. “Yet neither Merry nor I could have failed to meet them in Rivendell. And in truth, I received the distinct impression that your regard was specifically for the one called Elrohir.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing the tips of the Elf’s leaf-shaped ears turn faintly rosy.

“What made you think that, Master Dwarf?” Legolas retorted.

“I saw you together last night,” Gimli smugly informed him. Before Legolas could respond, he added: “Tell me, Elf, just how well do you know Elrond’s younger son?”

“I told you, we met more than three millennia ago,” the archer answered somewhat stiffly.

“Nay, I did not ask for the length of your acquaintance,” the Dwarf said with a touch of archness. “Let me rephrase that. How close are you to Elrohir Peredhil?”

This time, the rosy stain travelled to the Elven prince’s cheeks. Gimli just barely managed to snuff a laugh into his beard. His mirth came out a snicker instead, which only served to further discomfit the Elf.

“He is dearer to me than my own brothers,” Legolas countered evasively. “Just how close do you expect good friends to be?”

“Not as close as you and the Elf-lord seem to be!” Gimli shot back in triumph. “Come now, Legolas, out with it. You are more than friends, aren’t you?”

Legolas sighed resignedly and looked back at his Dwarf companion. His cheeks were now a nice shade of red much to Gimli’s glee.

“There was a time when, aye, we were closer than friends,” Legolas admitted. “But ‘tis over and done with.”

“It does not look that way to me,” Gimli observed. “He is remarkably protective of you.”

“He has always been protective of me.” Hearing Gimli’s sceptical snort, he shook his head and said: “What passed between us is no longer. We are friends and war-brothers, nothing more.”

“If you say so,” Gimli said in a patently unconvinced tone. And then he muttered something so inaudible that Legolas would not have heard it had he not been an Elf. “In a pig’s eye!”

The archer chose to keep his silence. There was no telling what the Dwarf might think of saying next. He was not about to encourage him to start another debate on the matter.

But as he looked forward once more, he saw Elrohir turn his head and glance back at them. The twin rode alongside Aragorn and the latter’s kinsman, Halbarad. Well ahead of his older brother who was slightly behind Legolas and Gimli. One would have thought him oblivious of the Elven prince. Except that ever so often, he would look back at Legolas, as if ascertaining the archer’s well-being.

Legolas heard a smothered chortle behind him. Shaking his head, he stoically bore his friend’s amusement.

Thankfully, Gimli did not badger him on the subject for the rest of the journey to Edoras. There they stayed the night before setting out once more at dawn the following day. He had all but forgotten about the discussion by then.

As they rode towards the Dwimorberg, however, he noticed Elrohir glancing at him now and then. The twin’s apparent concern for him brought back to mind his talk with Gimli the day before. His thoughts flew to their last night at the Hornburg when Gimli had seen him speaking with the younger twin.

He had been leaning against a wall of the great keep, hidden by the shadows, watching Aragorn, Elladan and Halbarad speak with King Theoden. A hand on his shoulder drew his attention to its owner. It was Elrohir.

“How fare you, mellon nîn?”—my friend?—the Elvenlord quietly inquired.

“Well enough,” Legolas replied with a slight grimace. “Though I could do with a little less gore and a little more merriment.”

Elrohir regarded him somberly. “You are troubled by the deaths of Theoden’s folk. By their mortality.”

The prince started then sighed. “You know me too well,” he murmured.

Elrohir shook his head. “Most Elves feel disturbed by the Gift of the One to Men. ‘Tis natural for you to be ill at ease when you witness what it means to be mortal.”

“True,” Legolas conceded. “I had taken them for granted. This – this horrendous slaughter has opened my eyes to their valor and worth. To know that each year of life brings one only closer to its end and yet to be able to accomplish so much in so short a time...‘tis a remarkable race.”

His eyes wandered back to the four men. Elrohir fell silent for a space. At length, he softly remarked: “Estel has risen in your regard.”

Legolas glanced at him then nodded. “Aye, he has,” he admitted. "'Tis difficult to believe him the child who used to follow you everywhere in Imladris. He has grown in wisdom and stature, Elrohir. He will make a great king when he comes into his inheritance. Mayhap he will be Gondor’s greatest king.”

“Mayhap,” Elrohir agreed. After a moment, he cocked his head at the prince and said: “You are still troubled, Calenlass. Would it ease you to tell me what disturbs your peace?”

With a deep sigh, Legolas nodded. “You always know what I need, gwador”—sworn brother—he responded gratefully.

The Elf-warrior smiled slightly. “Not always, but I do my best,” he replied.

Legolas poured out his heart to his friend. He recounted the evils they had thus far encountered: from the Balrog in Moria to Boromir’s death and Merry and Pippin’s abduction by the Orcs at Amon Hen to the desperate Battle of the Hornburg where he had seen so many Men fall. He had not feared for himself as much as for his companions and the fate of the Quest. And for the first time, he’d fully confronted and understood Man’s mortality and the frailty of this Middle-earth he loved so much.

When he was done, he realized he felt much lighter. In unburdening his heart to Elrohir, he had thrown off the fetters of anxiety that threatened to render him less than able to face the coming storm.

“Hannon le, Elrohir”—Thank you—he murmured. “Ever have you been a refuge to me.”

Elrohir smiled again. A pensive smile at best. Legolas wondered at his friend’s melancholy but the Elf-rider forestalled any questions with his response. “For as long as you need me, ernilen”—my prince—he said. “But come, let us tarry not in this gloom but take what rest we can. The night is all but gone. We will need all our strength in the coming days.”

Legolas frowned. “What do you foresee?”

Elrohir nodded in Aragorn’s direction. “Methinks Estel will follow my father’s counsel,” he said.

“The Paths of the Dead?”

“Aye.”

“Elves do not fear the Dead.”

“But Men do, even the valiant Dúnedain. And what lies beyond is to be feared even more for we will be tested beyond our endurance, Calenlass.”

“Then let us join the others and do as you suggest,” Legolas conceded. “Let us find what rest we may.”

They made their way to the small hall within the keep where the Rangers had gathered. Lying down on his pallet, Legolas wondered at the sense of security he felt with Elrohir at his side. When Elladan joined them, the feeling did not necessarily grow. It was the younger twin who radiated such warmth and encouragement as to strengthen his resolve.

He fell into fitful slumber only to awaken little more than an hour later, jolted out of his repose by a dream. It had been heart-rending and terrifying for he had dreamt that his friends were falling into darkness and he could only stand by and watch helplessly.

Hardly had he made a distressed moan when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and fingers gently stroking his hair.

“Hush, ‘tis only a dream,” he heard Elrohir whisper soothingly.

He turned his head and stared confusedly at the Elf-lord, still trembling from the shock of his nightmare. Without hesitation, Elrohir curled a protective arm around him. The sensation of power and tenderness enclosing him made him relax at once. There was no cause to be afraid. His refuge was beside him.

“Le iaun nîn”—You are my sanctuary—he mumbled as sleep reclaimed him. The last thing he remembered was the argent gleam of Elrohir’s watchful eyes.

“Are you awake, Elf?!” Gimli’s bellowed inquiry and none-too-gentle poke in the small of his back brought him rudely back to the present.

“I am awake,” he replied indignantly. “There is no need to be rough.”

The Dwarf snorted. “I was just making certain,” he muttered. “I do not care to be borne off by a runaway horse while you dream the day away.”

“I was not dreaming,” Legolas stated huffily. “I was merely thinking.”

Gimli regarded him inquisitively. Then a smile edged with mischief appeared on his face. “Thinking of Elf-knights, I suppose?” he teased.

The Elven prince started visibly. He turned his head to stare at the Dwarf. “I beg your pardon?”

“That is the meaning of his name, isn’t it?” Gimli snickered. “Or is it star-rider?”

Legolas’ lips tightened. “Both,” he briefly replied.

When he failed to rebut Gimli’s allegation, the Dwarf grinned wickedly.

“In a pig’s eye!” he said more loudly drawing a puzzled Elladan’s attention. The older twin wondered what could have caused the archer’s ears to turn that shade of bright pink and why the Dwarf was chuckling so heartily considering the dark purpose of their journey.

Conscious of Elladan’s curious glances, Legolas growlingly muttered, “You are hopeless, Gimli.”

Resolutely staring ahead, he found himself pondering the Dwarf’s insinuations. Gimli is mistaken about us, he thought. What had occurred between Elrohir and him was past and done with. But the love between friends that they shared remained and would always be there.

Up ahead lay the Dimholt and just beyond the Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Gate of the Dead. Legolas shivered. He did not fear the Dead. Indeed, he was the only one in the company who did not feel some dread at entering the Dark Door. But not even he, a woodland Elf, could help flinching at the prospect of passing through the awful gloom of the forest at the mountain’s foot.

Legolas felt his blood run cold as he watched the others before him slowly disappear into the dark beneath the black trees. He gazed at Elrohir as the Elf-lord urged his mount onwards into the shadows. At the very last, the twin turned his head and looked back at him. Their eyes met.

Elrohir, perceiving the archer’s uncharacteristic dislike of the forest, smiled encouragingly, his twilight eyes gleaming with warmth and affection. And then he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. But the fortitude lent by his silvery gaze remained with the Elven prince and enabled him to follow, his composure restored.

He is remarkably protective of you, Gimli had remarked suggestively.

He has always been protective of me, the golden-haired Elf had declared in return. And, Elbereth grant it, he always will be, Legolas silently reassured himself, finding great comfort in the thought.

***Passage quoted from LoTR: Return of the King, Book 5, Chapter 2: The Passing of the Grey Company.

*************************

Glossary:

Gwaeron - Sindarin for March

Calenlass – Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

The End
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Greenleaf & Imladris 17 - In the Shadows