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The Festival of Monarchs	By : Erviniae Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1592 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: No profit is made from the story. I am only playing in the world of Lord of the Rings.

Chapter List
- 1-The Festival of Monarchs
- 1
Title: The Festival of Monarchs
Author: Erviniae
Pairing: Elladan/Elrohir
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU, M/M
Disclaimer: The world of Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien’s Estates. No profit is made from this story.
Beta: Aglarien1
Request: A misunderstanding between the twins and a rose

Summary: A discovery is made during the Festival of Monarchs
Note: Written for the 2012 Ardor in August story exchange.

The Festival of the Monarchs was fast approaching. This was a special event signifying the return of spring. The Monarch Butterflies would swarm the clearing of trees surrounding Imladris, painting the meadow in yellows, oranges and gold. The elves embraced all the seasons, being close to nature and its various bounties. Each season beheld something magical, but Celebrían held Spring closest to her heart, for it was spring when she espied the Rose of Devotion, the rose that only bloomed when true love was found. A rose of unequaled beauty, white streaked with the deepest red - for with true love comes both happiness and trials. It was spring when she wed Elrond under the Mallorn of Lothlórien. It was spring when her children were born; first her twin sons and then her daughter. So it was with lightness in her heart that she oversaw each detail of preparation for the celebration. She only hoped her sons made it home soon, and then all would be perfect.

            Two nights before the festival saw Celebrían and Arwen putting finishing touches on the last of the tablecloths to adorn the tables in the main hall. Elrond sat nearby, in deep thought, though he occasionally smiled at the joy emanating from his wife and daughter. Commotion was heard from the hallway. Raucous laughter and a few choice words were overheard. Soon, a bluster of maleness burst into the hall, all dirt and grime of the road covering three heads. Arwen blushed as Aragorn smiled at seeing her there. Just last summer they had met in the woods surrounding Imladris. And something was stirring between them. Elrond watched and sighed heavily, involuntarily shaking his head in disapproval. He failed to see his wife’s look of disapproval thrown his way.

            Elrohir and Elladan strode to their mother, picking her up and hugging her. She laughed heartily and then chastised them for bringing the filth of the road into their pristine hall. They then headed towards their sister who ran to stand behind their father.

            “Back you two! Father, protect me!” she squealed in delight trying to feign distress. But they had her trapped even before she reached the safety of their father. Each put a sloppy kiss on her head, being sure she received some dirt in the process. Aragorn laughed and found himself hugged by Celebrían as well.

            “My Lord Elrond,” Aragorn nodded to his benefactor and foster father.

Elrond nodded back. “Welcome home. And please bathe, all of you!” commanded Elrond.

            “As you wish, my lord,” bowed twin heads in mockery as the three left the hall laughing once more.

Behind Elrond, Arwen let out a contented sigh to which Elrond whipped his head around to look at her. ‘No good can come of this,’ he spoke through his connection with his wife.

She looked sternly at him. ‘I disagree,’ she told him in reply. She shivered, though, as she watched the far off look in her husband’s eyes. There were things he saw that he chose not to share with her.

The morning of the festival arrived with hushed anticipation. The meadow was quietly alive with hidden voyeurs behind trees, bushes and rocks. Dressed in forest greens, Elrohir and Elladan stood behind a copse of trees, Arwen and Aragorn stood not 10 feet farther, more intent on staring into each other’s eyes than on the emergent ballet of butterflies.

            A slow humming began as the excitement grew. Thousands of wings beat rhythmically against the glare of the early morning sun. And then they were there. The meadow became filled with their magnificence! The green of the grass changed into a sea of gold, orange, yellow and brown. Spring began. Life renewed. A glow emanated outward from within the elves in attendance.

          One landed close to where the brothers were hiding. Looking down, Elrohir gasped. The rose! The Rose of Devotion had bloomed as well. The delicate white of the softest petals laced with the deepest crimson. Elrohir looked to his right and was in time to see Aragorn bestow a loving kiss upon Arwen’s brow. He nodded to himself. It made sense as to why it bloomed. Feeling eyes upon him he looked left only to see Elladan staring at him intently. He felt the brotherly love through their bond. This bond they shared as babes never faltered.

            “Brother, look, the rose,” Elrohir spoke softly into the grey eyes he knew as his own. Elladan sighed and smiled faintly.

            “I wish the same for us one day.” Elladan answered quietly. But before Elrohir could reply, there was a flourish and as quickly as they had come, the Monarchs took flight once more. Children ran after them as if they could fly with them and others began to sing songs of love, light and life. Turning back, he did so only to see his brother gone after the children, running as well. Elrohir laughed heartily as he watched the elegance that was his brother. Even being silly, Elladan was graceful and light. His heart filled with a joy he ever only felt when near his twin.

            Elladan had run until he was no longer seen. At first, with the joy of the chase, but soon he felt a need to be alone. He ran until he stopped for a drink from a nearby pool of clearest water, a pool that he and Elrohir often swam in when they were in their carefree days of youth; naked, unashamed and full of hopes and dreams. His heart was heavy now, he knew it should not be on such a day, but he felt guilt. He remembered the day well, when his feelings had turned to romantic love for his brother. They had been travelling with the Rangers of the North for nearly a year when they were besieged by a large band of Orcs. They were surprised by the attack and before they were able to fight back, they had lost two of their most trusted Ranger friends. Enraged, Elrohir had taken his sword and sliced into the belly of one Orc, spun, and sliced open the neck of another. In his fury, he failed to see the crossbow pointed towards him by an Orc twenty paces away and, as the arrow let lose, Elladan had run forward and shoved Elrohir out of the way but not before the arrow’s tip razed past Elrohir’s bicep, scraping skin and cloth as it did so. Thankfully the tip was not poisoned and together they fought on until the last of the Orcs fled in terror at the twin furies hacking through them. When it was done they broke camp with the bodies of their friends on stretchers, to deliver to their loved ones in the nearby village. Neither spoke but Elladan had the sudden panic that should he have lost Elrohir, he would lose himself; he knew then. He knew he could never lose his twin, his life, his love. Fear encompassed him as quickly as his revelation. What if it were true. What if Elrohir felt as he did? Would that mean banishment and ridicule? How could he face his parents?

            Readying for the ball, Elladan was uncharacteristically absent from their chambers shared since childhood. Feeling a twinge of loneliness, Elrohir continued to ready himself. Arwen had made each of them a twining of feathers to adorn their hair. The finest of green robes were laid out for them. Celebrían had sewn them herself, with embroidered leaves of gold inlaid throughout. It had taken her a few years to do so, and she could envision her beautiful sons wearing them with each stitch of her delicate hand.

            Elrohir lovingly stoked the fabric, envisioning his twin within the elegant folds of the fabric. “Elladan, where are you?” he thought aloud.

            “I am here,” the smooth voice responded. Elrohir turned to see Elladan jumping over the rail of their balcony in one graceful leap. They had often returned to their quarters in such a manner, whenever they had sneaked out of their rooms in their youth. His heart leapt in his chest. Both felt complete only when together.

Espying the robes, Elladan whistled in appreciation. “Mother truly outdid herself.”

            “That she did,” answered Elrohir.

            They dressed silently, putting on their robes last. Each now wore intricate braids twisted with the feathery ribbons. Smoothing back a stray hair behind Elrohir’s ear, Elladan looked deeply into those gray eyes he knew better than his own. “There. Perfect.”

            “As are you,” Elrohir responded as he blushed uncharacteristically.

            “Elrohir, I …..” Elladan began as the door burst open and Arwen rushed over the threshold, resplendent in a matching green dress, with the same elegant gold leaf embroidery.

            Regretfully, Elladan pulled away from his twin and suddenly became the center of his sister’s attention.

             “Oh, let me fix that for you,” Arwen said as she tugged none too gently at Elladan’s hair. He winced and glared at Elrohir who was enjoying this all too well.

            Together the three of them entered the ballroom, all eyes turning to the children of Elrond. Celebrían smiled widely at the visage of her children in the clothing she had so lovingly made.

           “Well done, my love.” Elrond placed a hand against the small of Celebrían’s back as they received their children. She smiled with pride and hugged each child in greeting.

            The meal was elaborate, a feast of delights to the palate as well as to the eye. Aragorn and Arwen stole glances at each other through each course, each glance earning a glower from Elrond. Too many times to count he and Celebrían had argued about the unworthiness of Aragorn, as he now stood, to ever wed their beloved daughter.

             Noting how Elrond watched the two, Celebrían nudged her husband under the table. ‘Stop brooding,’ she spoke through their bond.

              Sighing heavily, Elrond smiled at his wife, nodding his acquiesce. Looking towards his sons, he noted there was a sadness hovering around their usual cordial brightness.

            The meal gave way to further activities. Elrond led his wife towards the middle of the hall where they danced to the first festive song of the night. Others followed their lead, and soon the floor was beset with flowing gowns swirling to the enchanting music. Elrohir and Elladan were never at a loss for partners. The sons of Elrond were sought out, not only for their beauty, but for their eligibility as bachelors. Ever gracious, neither refused any maiden who asked for the chance to dance with such a valuable partner.

            Thirsty, Elrohir excused himself and went to retrieve some wine and rest next to his sister, who sat near their parents while Aragorn was off talking to the Lords Erestor and Glorfindel.

            “Dearest brother, I fear every maiden is vying for some attention from you and our Elladan this night!”

            “Indeed. Do none catch your eye?” Celebrían asked.

            Elrohir snickered, shaking his head no, as his eyes drifted to Elladan, who was bowing gracefully to his latest partner.

             Elladan, as if feeling the stares, turned and smiled lightly. The corner of his mouth turned up and a twinkle lit up his eyes as he nodded to Elrohir.

              Wise eyes looked and saw, and knew. From the moment they were born, Elrond foresaw their future. He said not a word to anyone, not even to his beloved wife. He knew of the bond a twin had, but this was so much more.

            “I saw the rose today, by our feet, as we hid,” Elrohir whispered to Arwen. “I am happy for you. Aragorn is a good man.”

            She stared deeply into those of her brother’s. “That was not for us, my dear brother, for it bloomed the day we first met in the forest.” She squeezed his thigh as she stood and asked her father to dance. Dumbfounded, Elrohir just stared after her. Then who was it for? Did Elladan find true love? Who was it? He felt as if his stomach dropped. Suddenly the room closed around him. He needed air. He felt stifled. Quickly he stood and, nearly tripping over his own feet, he left the hall and walked swiftly towards the gardens. He did not hear Celebrían call after him in concern. She saw the change in her son and grew worried.

            Elrohir ran. He ran past elves in the gardens who just stared after him in wonder. He ran into the woods leaving his robes behind him. His thoughts raced with him.

            Elladan stopped in mid-dance. He felt the sudden distress of his twin. The maiden he was dancing with looked at him curiously. “Lord Elladan?” she began, but the words were uttered to his retreating back.

             Elladan passed his mother as he entered the gardens, barely glancing her way. The feeling of despair enveloped him and he gasped aloud. Something was wrong. He had to find his twin and comfort him. He ran to the place where in his heart he knew Elrohir would be: the pool.

            Elladan found him kneeling on the edge of “their pool”, as they called it when children. Elrohir’s head was down, his shoulders shaking as with grief. Dropping next to him, Elladan forced Elrohir to look at him. Tears were streaming down Elrohir’s face. “Beloved, what is wrong?” Elladan’s voice was a whisper as their shared emotions flooded him.

            “Who? Who is the rose for?” Elrohir despaired.

            “Arwen and Ara….” began Elladan but Elrohir cut him off.

            “NO! Arwen told me theirs bloomed the day they met in the forest. You and I were the only others near it! WHO ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH?” Elrohir yelled, grabbing Elladan’s collar, ripping the exquisite fabric.

            Elladan stared into those grief filled eyes, soaking in the words that were just yelled at him. “You. I am in love with you now and forever.”

            Elrohir stared back with disbelief. Could it be true? Was he too stubborn to see the truth in it? “Truly?” The words came out as a sob.

            “Yes, you fool, yes!” Elladan pulled Elrohir towards him, a calloused hand on each cheek. Their lips met softly. The truth of their love slowly enveloped them. Lips sought deeper as Elrohir’s hands entwined in Elladan’s braids, feathers flying out to land softly at their knees.

            “My heart is forever yours,” whispered Elrohir to an answering moan by Elladan.

            “And mine yours.”

                                         The End
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The Festival of Monarchs