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Trust	By : squirrelchaser Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 2887 -:- 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-one
- 2-two
- 1
- 2
Title: Trust
Author:
Squirrelchaser (squirrelchaser12@yahoo.com)
Warnings: slash
(Legolas/Elrond), AU (no family; Elrond�s single), non graphic rape and
violence, rated R
Summary: �When
Imladris was founded it was expected that, one day, I should marry and have
children. Time passed, flourishing into centuries, then millennia, and still I
was alone.�
AN: Tolkien states
that if taken against their will, elves fade and die
Disclaimer: Own
nothing; Tolkien does

~Thank you to Talullah for her invaluable
beta reading~

Trust
For
the thousands of years that I had had political dealings with him, I had never really
liked Thranduil. The one and only thing that I did like about him was his son.
I liked his son Legolas quite a bit, and as a result of my affection I suppose
I appreciated Thranduil for seeing fit to sire him, but for a long time that
was all Thranduil had going for him in my eyes.
Truthfully,
to say that I liked Legolas was a bit
of an understatement, though my fondness grew with time. When I first met him
he was aloof, formal, a pure diplomat, and I had not given liking him or not much
thought.
He
first came to Imladris bearing a message that, upon arrival, he refused to
deliver to none save the Master of Imladris.
I
had been tied up in other affairs that day, holding council with elves from Loren,
and received no word that there was a messenger from Mirkwood. At the
conclusion of the meeting I went to the evening meal and afterward retreated to
my chambers. There was still not word that there was a Mirkwood elf who wished
in earnest to speak with me, so I suppose Legolas had seen fit to seek me out
himself.
The
quiet of the evening had just begun to settle, and I was reading happily in
peace when there was a knock on the door.
�Lord
Elrond.�
It
was a statement, not a question.
�Enter,�
I called, and the handle turned. Looked up I was greeted by the sight of a
tall, golden haired wood elf clothed simply in soft browns and greens standing
before me. I did not recognize him, and nodded in greeting, gesturing him
inside.
He
bowed courteously from the waist, apologized for his intrusion, and introduced
himself simply as, �Legolas of Mirkwood, bearing a message from Thranduil, of Northern Mirkwood.�
�Welcome,
son of Thranduil,� I replied, for though I had never met him I had heard of Legolas,
son of the King of the wood elves. Mildly intrigued, I set my book aside and
bid him to sit next to me, which he did so with very formal decorum, and I
inquired as to his message.
Legolas
was sent to inform me of the whereabouts and happenings of my advisors.
In
quest for adventure or some such mindless escape from normalcy, Glorfindel and Erestor
had gotten into a nasty scrape in Guldur, and their injuries were compounded
when they failed to make an escape from the Mirkwood spiders. Neither of the
affairs left them in very good health so it would seem, and Legolas was sent to
inform me that they had been happened upon and taken in by the wood elves.
I
cannot say that I was not the least bit surprised at news of their harm.
Glorfindel
had a penchant for attracting trouble, but as he was fearless, an excellent
warrior, and as long as the trouble he drew was not a balrog, I kept my mouth
shut. He was usually able to see himself and Erestor out of their stupidity
relatively intact. Glorfindel and Erestor are the greatest of friends, if not
more (for they never told me and I had never asked), following where ever the
other led him, which was often out of the valley and into foolishness. There
was no dissuading either of them, and again, I kept my mouth shut.
Despite
my near constant exasperation at their excursions, I held my friends dear to
me, and news of their injury did cause me concern.
�But
there is no need for alarm, Lord Elrond,� Legolas said quickly as I felt my
face tighten, his tone level and still formal. The one slip in his diplomacy
was the long hand that moved to hover over my forearm as I started in concern
and anxiety. �They now rest in the capable care of my people, and will make a
full recovery, given time.�
�How long?� I inquired.
�A month at the most. They asked me specifically to forbid you
from worry.� After a pregnant pause
Legolas rose, bowed, and said, �I will take my leave now, Lord Elrond. The
night and a long journey await me.�
Again
I raised my eyebrows, attention shifting to this adventurous, fearless, or
foolish elf. �You will ride through the night? You will not stay in Imladris at
least till dawn?�
�I
had not planned on it.�
Remembering
my manners, I insisted. �As you extend your hospitality and nurturing toward my
advisors and friends; I must return the favor.�
For
a moment I could see a protest formulating in the depths of his eyes, but
instead he had consented. Out of ease, I directed him to the set of chambers across
the hall from my own.
The
vast bed faced the East. There was no view of the falls, which was generally
preferred, but looked out over the river with a great expanse of sky stretching
beyond the valley.
�Do
you find them to your liking?� I asked out of courtesy.
�Yes.
I am not used to having a view of the stars from my bed, though I know I will
enjoy it tonight.� He smiled, close lipped. The formal tone was still present
but he seemed much more genuine, nearly happy, as he stood there in the
starlight for a long moment, seeming mesmerized. Then Legolas licked his lips
and, seeming to take no notice of me, stood at the window with his face toward
the sky and sang into the valley. He did not seem to notice when I turned and
left the room.
I
went to sleep that night with elven song washing softly over me from the rooms
near mine. I lay in the darkness, intrigued by this strange elf for he was
different from all others in Imladris�certainly different from a vast majority
of all the elves I was in constant company of. I knew little of the Mirkwood
elves, as they generally kept to themselves and were
not very eager to associate greatly with those of other lands.
The
next morning at breakfast I noticed how often and long he started at the
waterfalls, for the terrace we occupied looked directly out over the cliffs.
With amusement I noted his fascination aloud and he smiled, ducked his head
slightly, and apologized.
�Forgive
my inattentiveness, but I have not seen anything like it before.�
To
satiate his curiosity, we spent the morning out by the falls, and the time passed
quickly in his company. We talked and laughed. He sang. His diplomacy fell
away, and as a day turned into a week and a week turned into a month, I grew
enchanted.
I
dared not verbalize my growing affections to Legolas or anyone; I know not what
stilled my voice. But I do not think that my feelings went unreciprocated for Legolas
stayed in Imladris for many months, remaining even after Erestor and Glorfindel
returned home.
Thranduil
had sent word with them, inquiring as to the whereabouts of his son. Legolas
had written back; I know not what he said, but Thranduil�s message to me was
brief and irritated. I don�t think he liked the idea of his first born residing
in Imladris for he liked me as much as I liked him, but nevertheless, Legolas
stayed.
In
the time that he was here we came to know each other very well. I was not sure
what to call the bond we forged; it was something greater, much more intimate
than a friendship, but without the strappings and uncomfortable embarrassment
of a courtship.
We
touched as friends do not touch, not a casual passing glance of the hand over a
shoulder or the small of a back, but a lingering stroke that was a tentative
exploration through thick fabric. Hands twined in hair too often to be an
accident. Caresses that could have been between friends lingered too long, and
his heartbeat against mine was too fast. We spoke with eyes as friends do not,
in gazes that silently longed and promised.
One
night I was awakened out of a deep sleep by someone shaking my shoulder.
Rolling over onto my stomach I groaned into my pillow, muttering something
incoherent and probably none too intelligent. It was, after all, the dead of
the night.
�Elrond.�
It
was Legolas.
�Elrond.�
�Mmm?� I did not lift my face from the pillow.
�Come
swimming with me.�
��what?�
�Come
swimming with me.�
��now?�
I
was still sleepy, but Legolas was strong and fully awake, and pulled me out of
bed and out of the house. Suddenly I became aware of the fact that we stood on
the river banks, and I had no real recollection of how we got there. I blinked,
and Legolas had stripped and was tugging at my own tunic. My mumble of protest
was lost as the fabric slipped over my head and I was pushed headlong into the
water.
That
woke me up, and I bobbed to the surface just as Legolas dove in beside me.
�Legolas,� I said, treading water and keeping my voice even, �Why in the name
of the stars are you awake and swimming, and have me awake and swimming, at�midnight?�
He
did nothing but grin in reply, ducked under the water, and flipped away, nimble
as any otter.
For
a brief minute my emotions wavered between annoyed and carefree, and carefree
won over.
Carefree. I had not felt such lightheartedness
since�I could not remember when. I could not remember the last rough and tumble
game of tag I had ever played, even from my childhood. But this was different
from a child�s game, for this game bordered on seductive; the fact that we did
not have any clothes on could not be forgotten especially when one had the
other pinned bodily against the river bank.
Legolas
had me pressed me to the ground with both wrists pinned above my head, and I
was laughing, though I had no idea what made me laugh so hard that tears run
down my cheeks.
�Mercy! I begged, gasping for breath. My eyes cleared, and Legolas was
looking down at me with a little half smile, and his eyes seemed distant. I
stopped laughing. �Legolas?� I raised my eyebrows, and
he jumped sheepishly, rolled off of me onto his back in the soft grass and
stared up at the sky. He looked pensive.
At
length he asked softly, �Why are you not married?�
The
directness of the question took me by surprise, and once the surprise faded
away I realized that I was unsure of the answer. �I know not.�
�Have you ever been in love?�
�No.�
�Do
you think you ever will be?�
�I
hope so.�
He
did not ask any more questions, but they were enough to stir thoughts in me
that hadn�t been awakened for millennia.
When
Imladris was founded it was expected that, one day, I should marry and have
children. Time passed, flourishing into centuries, then millennia, and still I
was alone. By the time I met Legolas marriage was something that I was well
past my prime for, and to Glorfindel alone did I confide my doubt that I would
ever be married. In truth, even if the situation had presented it self when I
was young, I would not know how to go about it. How does one ask another to
marry them? Does one simply blurt it out at table? It seemed very complicated
and appeared to carry the potential for great humiliation and rejection, and so
I had always avoided the remotest possibility of it.
It
was not thought that a male, such as Legolas, could ever become a spouse to the
Lord of Imladris anyway. This was for the obvious reason that two males are
unable to bear children and would thus be useless for the sake of inheritance,
continuation of politics, and other matters that are (or should be) irrelevant
to a marriage bond.
When
Legolas arrived the rumors simmered and without knowing it, I had become
engaged and married in the span of one week according to half of Imladris. It
was rumored that, after millennias of solitude, Lord Elrond had finally taken a
lover. A male lover. A younger, male lover, out of
Mirkwood, and that we had married in secret.
But
the gossip was not true. Actually, the juxtaposition of the truth with the
rumor was almost amusing, for neither of us voiced our affections and continued
to seek out the other�s declaration of affection through body language and
gazes.
At
length, though, Legolas returned to Mirkwood with great reluctance that we both
made an effort to hide.
�My
Adar [father] is in need of me,� he murmured with a trace of sadness as we
stood at the gate. �The wild men that roam the forest of Mirkwood are causing strife among us. They need my
bow.�
�Farewell,�
I embraced him and tried to smile but could not. �Return to me if time and fate
allows.�
�I
will!� Legolas had replied almost fiercely, and one slender hand rose and
nearly touched my face. But he retracted it � was that a blush that kissed his
cheeks? � and said with greater control, �I will
return to you - to Imladris - before the leaves turn golden.� He stepped away
with a slight smile and threw one leg over the bare back of his gelding.
As
Legolas cantered off through the gates and down the path he looked back twice,
and I watched until he was out of sight with an odd feeling of heartsickness. I
turned slowly to see Glorfindel smirking in a shadow by the door and the
heartsickness fell away, leaving the sudden urge to kick him, just to make him
stop smirking.
Things
fell back into their usual pattern, the way things had been before Legolas had
come into my life. Before him I had been happy, with him I had been very happy,
and now that he was gone I felt not unhappy, but restless and incomplete.
Imladris
felt a little bigger than it had before, a little quieter, a little less
bright. I was not alone but sometimes, even when in the company of Glorfindel
and Erestor, it felt lonely. I had to stop and remind myself sometimes that
Legolas was not here, before I had gotten all the way to his chamber door.
Spring
passed, summer blossomed, and I wondered when he would return.
Or
would he return?
I
shook that thought from my head quickly. Of course he would return; I saw it in
his eyes the day he left.
But
against my will my thoughts turned to pretty maidens, or young male elves that
laughed and ran beneath the trees of Mirkwood, as fair as a summer day, and
again I wondered if he would return to me.
Late
one night I lay in bed, unable to sleep for I thought about Legolas. For some
reason the memory of his first night in Imladris haunted me; when I closed my
eyes I could hear his voice still carrying softly on the wind. I then realized
I was unable to remember is face, and suddenly felt very frightened and lonely.
I had to remember his face; I just had to!
Rising
from my bed I crossed the hall to the chambers opposite mine. I had ordered
them to remain untouched since his departure, and they were just as Legolas had
left them. His scent still lingered faintly in the air, detectable as I closed
my eyes and spread my arms out at my sides. Yes, in his room, I could remember
Legolas� face, and I was relived. I wanted to preserve his image in my mind,
and the thought of forgetting him scared me, and I quickly fell on a solution.
Stashed
away in my rooms were canvas and brushes, which I retrieved, and set up in
Legolas� chamber. I was determined to preserve him forever, though it had been
many, many years since I had painted anything, and even then I had had a model.
I
began my task the next day, during the evening when I usually had time to
myself. I began to mix paints, grinding the pigments to a fine powder and
mixing them with oils to the right texture and hue. It took me several tries to
find tones that would correctly reflect the warmth of his skin, the sheen of
his hair. It took me a long time to be satisfied with the way the shadows
painted on the canvas played over the curves of his face, or the exact way his
lips curved. Whenever I found I forgot, I set down my brush, closed my eyes,
and remembered his words, his song, his touch, and would remember what I sought
to portray.
I
guarded my project jealously, closing the door when I worked during the
evenings and late into the night. I told no one, not even Glorfindel and
Erestor, though they wondered where I disappeared to. For some reason I wanted
this to be mine, and mine alone.
I
finished the painting in the middle of summer. I knew when I was finished when
looked and saw Legolas before me, and not the work of my hands. There was a
great sense of peace in my heart as I took down the easel, cleaned the brushes
for a final time.
His
face was before me; in looking at him I would never forget his laugh, his
touch, his hair and the scent of his skin. If Legolas should never return to
me, I would have a small piece of him to remember and dream on what could have
been, and I kept this piece close to my heart. I kept the painting in my
chamber where only I would see it; for a reason unknown to me I still did not want
to share news of my affection with anyone.
The
next evening I spent with Erestor, who commented lightly on my appearance. It
was a warm and humid night, with one of those hasty summer thunder showers that
came and went without notice, and we watched the lightening and told stories of
the past.
Everything
felt peaceful, when in fact it was not.
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