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Greenleaf & Imladris 28 - In His Father's Image	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5531 -:- 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.

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Title: Greenleaf & Imladris 28 - In His Father’s Image

Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)

Pairings: Lindir/OMC, Elrohir/Legolas

Rating: R

Summary: As Elladan’s twins approach their coming-of-age, history threatens to repeat itself and further afflict an already burdened heart.

Disclaimer: I write for the sheer love of it. Everything else belongs to that wizard of a storyteller, JRR Tolkien.

Author’s Note: Virtually nothing is known about Lindir except that he uttered exactly four lines in FoTR and that, due to the meaning of his name, he may have been a minstrel. In the earlier parts of the series, I depicted him as the housemaster of the Last Homely House and occasional tutor to the Twins. But in this story, he is the chief steward of their estate, having taken over from Erestor who passed West with Glorfindel and Elrond at the end of the Third Age.

In His Father’s Image

Chapter I

Imladris, lairë FA 72

Ordinarily, any transgression by the twins was duly reported to their parents or uncles and the resulting chastisement left in their more than capable hands. But this morning, Lindir chose to approach both directly and take them to task. He caught them as they headed for sword practice, hailing them before they stepped out of the house.

“Good morn, Lindir,” Elros cheerfully bade him. Elendir seconded the greeting.

“Not so good a morn for Master Aldrion,” Lindir pointedly said, ignoring their salutations. “What possessed you to stuff his beddings last night with all manner of trash?”

Both had enough grace to flush slightly at being found out so soon. But neither could repress the smug grins that curled their mouths.

“‘Twas naught but dried leaves, Lindir,” Elendir said.

“‘Tis not as if we put anything harmful into the beddings,” Elros added.

“Nor is this something Ada”—Papa—“and Uncles Las and Rohir did not themselves do,” Elendir continued.

“And long after reaching their majorities at that,” Elros finished.

Lindir sighed and turned a stern countenance on them.

“But even at their worst, they took care not to inflict their jests on those unable to withstand them,“ he countered. “The Dale Master is old and crippled and half-blind. Yet for all his great age and difficulties, he tends to his duties well and is beloved of his people. It is the height of insolence for you to treat him so basely,” he reproved acidly. “Would you think it so amusing were someone to demean your sire in that same manner and he an Elf of noble, unblemished birth?”

The brethren stared at him in some surprise. It was rare for anyone other than their parents or Elrohir or Legolas to chasten them. Certainly they had seldom had occasion to bear the brunt of Lindir’s ire. Rivendell’s chief steward was, for the most part, sweet tempered and almost patient beyond belief.

“But Lindir—” Elendir began to protest.

But Elros interrupted him and said: “Aye, Lindir. ‘Twas disrespectful of us. We will apologize to Master Aldrion soonest.”

“We will?” Elendir blurted out in surprise.

“Aye, we will,” Elros said. “Lindir is right, gwanunig nîn.”—my twin.” We were imprudent in this instance and deserve to be chastised.”

Elendir was nonplussed at first but a moment later, he nodded and acceded to his brother’s rightness. “We will apologize to Master Aldrion,” he agreed.

Lindir did not know whether to be pleased or puzzled. For the brethren to admit their fault so swiftly was astonishing. For that matter, for Elros to capitulate so easily—the younger twin had always been the more recalcitrant of the two.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

To his bemusement, Elros suddenly looked discomfited while Elendir grinned in an oddly knowing way.

“Let us go,” Elros said abruptly and hurried towards the guest wing. Elendir shook his head in amusement and followed him.

Lindir watched them go, his eyes keen on one of them in particular. He did not move from his position until the twins vanished from sight. But his intent regard had not gone unnoticed.

Elladan glanced at Elrohir and said: “Did you mark the look in his eyes?”

Elrohir nodded then gazed at his brother. “What of it?”

The twin lords of Imladris had been on their way out to the drill yard as well to assess the newest batch of warriors to be trained on the grounds of the Last Homely House. Even in these times of relative peace, the Elves had not let down their guard. There were still constantly spawning orcs to repel, the occasional rise of bands of brigands to deal with and the warring nations of the eastern lands to beware of. Harad may have at last settled her differences with the Reunited Kingdom but the tribes of Rhûn were still divided on this matter and, ever and anon, Easterling parties sought to raid the borders as of yore. Admittedly, such skirmishes were now rare but the Elves were not about to discard their duties to Middle-earth so easily. Not even in their waning days in the Hinter Lands.

Elladan said: “I confess I did not believe Merenwë when he told me of it.”

Elrohir snorted. “How thoughtful of him to carry the tale to you,” he said acerbically.

Elladan frowned. “He spoke the truth nonetheless. I cannot deny it for I know that look. But I had not thought I would see it trained upon my own son and by our steward no less. In truth, it troubles me.”

“Why?”

The older twin glanced at the younger. “You are being deliberately obtuse, gwanneth”—younger twin—he remarked. “You are not blind or witless. You know of what I speak.”

Elrohir’s spear-gaze alighted with unnerving steeliness on his brother. Any other would have been abashed. As it was Elladan was simply somewhat taken aback.

“You recognize Lindir’s yearning because he looks upon Elros as I once regarded Legolas long before he knew of my love,” he stated baldly. When Elladan stared at him, wondering at his demeanor, he added, “You disapprove.”

“Elros is still ten years from his majority,” Elladan pointed out. “Of course, I disapprove.”

“Of his attraction or the timing of it?”

“Both. ‘Tis not meet, Elrohir. It disturbs me that of all the Elves in Arda he should look just so upon my child.”

Elrohir’s mouth tightened. “It troubles you that he harbors what you deem an unseemly interest in Elros. In much the same manner that I once desired, quite disturbingly, our closest friend.”

Elladan caught his breath at the sharpness of his brother’s tone. “Elrohir, I am not chastening you belatedly for that matter!” he softly exclaimed.

“Nor am I so foolish to think you are, muindor”—brother—the other rejoined.

“Then why this – this rancor?” Elladan said bewilderedly. “Is it wrong for a father to desire to protect his children? I am only perturbed by the impropriety of his conduct and would ask him to turn his attention elsewhere!”

Elrohir said: “You speak of Lindir’s feelings with cavalier regard. As if ‘tis a simple matter to dismiss another’s feelings because they are troublesome to you.” He faced Elladan squarely. “Had Legolas thought as you, think you I would be here now?”

Elladan stared at his brother in speechlessness, reminded of a sudden of the confluence of events that had spared him and his twin that most wrenching of partings.

“Forgive me, Elrohir,” he said at length. “In your present bliss, I had forgotten what you endured ere you won it.” He peered in comprehension at his brother. “You sympathize with him.”

“Yet I would turn against him were he to hurt Elros,” Elrohir said. “But I do not believe that he will. I think he would sooner suffer that hurt than ever let it touch the one he cares for.” He hesitated. “As he always has.”

Elladan grew even more confused. “As he always has?” he repeated. “You speak in riddles. What do you know that I do not?”

“‘Tis not right for me to reveal another’s secrets,” Elrohir said. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I think you had best talk to Lindir about this. Then will you understand more fully why I do not fear his intent.”

Elladan peered at him curiously then nodded.

********

It was some days later before the suggested talk came about. Elladan awaited Lindir in the study, still puzzled by his brother’s cryptic allusions. The door opened and the steward entered. Elladan regarded him thoughtfully.

His father’s departure for Aman at the end of the last age had heralded the leave-taking of Middle-earth by many of Rivendell’s Noldorin residents, Glorfindel amongst them. Naturally, Erestor had gone with his spouse. That had necessitated many changes in rank amongst the remaining denizens of the Last Homely House and the vale at large. Glorfindel’s second-in-command, Daurin, had become captain of the Imladrin forces and his binding-mate, Enedrion, was now his lieutenant. Iorwen had taken over as housekeeper and her husband, Ailios, as chief counsellor. And Lindir had been named chief steward.

The Elf had more than proven his worthiness of the position. Though better known outside of Rivendell for his musical genius, Lindir had been a most able housemaster in Elrond’s day, not to mention a sage teacher to the many Elflings who had once graced the valley and, when the need arose, a competent warrior as well.

Like Erestor, he was of mixed heritage, his mother a Noldo from Eregion and his father a Sinda of Silvan ancestry from ancient Doriath. He was dark-haired as was the wont for the Noldor, his tresses of a rich, deep brown that gleamed with bronzed light when kissed by the sun’s golden rays. His eyes, however, where unusual amongst the Noldor or even the Sindar. They were a light hazel, a trait attributed to his Wood-elven forebears. In all, there was no denying the steward’s striking comeliness.

Elladan gestured to him to take a seat before the elegant desk that had been Elrond’s in days gone by. He himself sat on one edge of it, as ill at ease in the lordly high-backed chair behind it as Elrohir.

“I summoned you because a matter of import has come to my attention,” he said tentatively.

“What matter is this, my lord?” Lindir inquired formally.

“It has to do with my sons tutelage under you,” the Elf-lord continued. “I wonder if ‘tis wise for them to continue thusly.”

Save for the slight darkening of his eyes, Lindir did not evince any of the sense of offense he surely must have felt. “You doubt my abilities?” he merely inquired cautiously,

Elladan shook his head. “Nay, never that. No one can fault you for that, not even Merenwë for all his conceit.” He paused. “But I do wonder about your feelings regarding Elros.” At the raised eyebrows of the steward, the Elvenlord continued. “I have seen how you regard him, Lindir. You love him.”

Lindir was speechless for a moment. “I did not think I had been so open about my feelings,” he murmured.

“You were not until this summer.”

“And that distresses you. Forgive me, my lord, it shall not happen again.”

“Concealing your feelings is not the same as ridding yourself of them. You would continue to love him though you hide it.”

The steward suddenly understood Elladan’s concern. “You do not trust me with him,” he said with some shock. “You think I would take advantage of my position and seduce him.”

Elladan stirred uncomfortably at the blunt statement. “Elros is young and still easily persuaded,” he softly pointed out. “You have much influence over him, Lindir. I would remind you of your charge.”

Lindir gazed at his lord. Elladan was startled by the pain that flickered in the eyes of the other Elf. He was silent for a long while. Finally, he seemed to decide something. He looked straight at Elladan, his gaze unwavering.

“Your father entrusted you to my care even if he knew of my feelings,” he very quietly stated.

Elladan gaped at him in shock. “Your feelings?” he repeated incredulously.

“Aye.”

The Elvenlord was thoroughly disconcerted by his discovery. “You never said anything,” he finally managed. “Never gave me reason to think you felt something for me.”

"'Twas not my place to do so,” Lindir said. “You were my lord’s son, I a mere housemaster and one to whose care you had been entrusted.” He shook his head. “It would not have been meet for me to use that to my advantage.”

Elladan fell silent for a space. “I am sorry, Lindir,” he said at length. “Had I known I might have...” he trailed off somewhat awkwardly.

“Taken me to your bed?” A small humorless smile graced the steward’s handsome features. “Nay, my lord, I would not have accepted such an invitation had it been given. I could not bear the knowledge of your body but not your heart. ‘Tis not my way.” He sighed. "'Tis easy to take to bed those from whom you expect nothing more than physical release. But to love someone and know you are but one in a multitude of lovers...I could not endure that.”

Elladan reddened a little. His days of promiscuous adventuring were long past now that he had his Nimeithel but the memories sometimes came back to haunt him as they did now in the face of Lindir’s confession. He could only imagine the heartbreak of the steward, watching from afar as the one he loved freely shared his body with others whilst he himself was forbidden the pleasure because of honor and duty.

“How is it that you did not fade?” he half whispered.

“Because you needed my services,” Lindir answered honestly. “In that I found some satisfaction. To know you were safe and happy and contented...’twas enough to stave off the grief.” He regarded the Elf-lord with open affection though it was no longer tinged with the desire he had once held for him. “Elladan,” he said addressing him more personally, “if I did not touch you even when I loved you more than life itself why would I do so now with Elros? Not that he would desire someone beneath his station.”

Elladan snapped his head up at that. “You are not beneath anyone’s station, Lindir,” he firmly stated. His eyes softened at the steward’s sad smile. He came to a sudden decision. “Nor would I forbid you to approach him once he is of age.”

Lindir stared at him in astonishment. “You are generous,” he said, touched by Elladan’s compassion. “But nothing will come of my feelings. Elros deserves someone closer in age and more learned and noble.”

Elladan snorted. “And you are not learned and noble?” he countered. “You who has ably taught my sons these past many years and won their respect and regard? Who has served this family with all honor and faithfulness? And as for age, I do not recall any objections to the vast difference in years between my sister and Estel.”

Lindir started then blushed. “Be that as it may, Elros does not return my feelings,” he said heavily. “I am no more than a trusted friend and teacher to him.”

“How do you know that?”

“He looks at me in much the same way you once did.”

Elladan flinched inwardly at the choice of words. He knew Lindir held nothing against him and still cared for him as a friend and liege lord. Nevertheless, it recalled to him his youthful callousness and he found himself hoping his sons would not follow in his footsteps. At least, he hoped Elros would not for the steward’s sake.

Lindir had risen with the air of one waiting to be dismissed. Elladan nodded his acquiescence. But just as the steward opened the door, he said: “I will trust you with my son, Lindir. And should he yield it, with his heart as well. More I cannot say.”

The Elf gazed back at him in wonder. Then he smiled gently and murmured, “Thank you.” With that he left the study.

Elladan sat back in his chair musingly. “You knew?” he said.

Elrohir stepped out from the shallow recess beside the wide bookshelf along the near wall. He looked at his brother sympathetically.

“Not at first,” he admitted. “But when I came to love Legolas, I realized I had a kindred spirit in Lindir.” He looked out the window by the shelf, memories gentling his fierce mithril eyes. Crossing the garden beyond, bow and quiver and nephews in tow, was his golden spouse. “We both knew what it was to love in vain.”

“You never told me,” Elladan chided mildly.

“And what would you have done?” Elrohir queried pointedly. “Assuaged his longing with one night in your bed? He said it quite succinctly. He would never have endured your pity any more than I could have borne Legolas’.”

Elladan fell silent for a space. After a while, he looked at his brother, love gentling his storm blue eyes as he noted the softened grey eyes that watched his beloved from afar. He rose and snaked an arm around Elrohir’s shoulders.

“My good fortune is that I found my reward at last,” Elrohir murmured. “Lindir has not.”

Elladan sighed. He said with all sincerity, “I pray that my sons will not be as blind and careless as I was and be the source of another’s misery.”

Elrohir nodded. “A word of caution, gwaniuar.”—older twin. “Beware Merenwë’s motive for apprising you of this matter. I wager he shares Lindir’s yearning and only seeks to rid himself of a potential rival.”

Elladan’s brow creased anew. “Think you he has designs on Elros?”

“It would not surprise me,” the Elf-knight replied. “But I would be more wary of his intentions. I doubt he has as many scruples as Lindir does.”

A dry smile graced Elladan’s fine mouth. “It is ironic, is it not, that to protect my son from one potential lover, I have placed him in the keeping of another.”

Elrohir’s lips quirked into a humorless grin. “The difference is that one merely seeks to use love for his own ends while the other truly feels it in his heart.”

Elladan could not disagree. “More than ever I wish Merenwë left for Valinor with Adar.”—Father. “Have you ever wondered why he chose to stay on?”

Elrohir shrugged. “For no commendable reason I am certain,” he said. “If only it were permissible to send him away, I would do it at once. He grows ever more tiresome, Elladan.”

“I will not gainsay you, gwanneth,” Elladan replied. “Let us hope that fate will give us a good enough reason to do so.”

“And soonest,” Elrohir added with a wry chuckle.

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

Glossary

lairë - Quenya for summer

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Greenleaf & Imladris 28 - In His Father's Image