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Of Light and Shadow	By : Avaloyuru Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2298 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any copyright to the Tolkien/Middle-Earth Fandom, nor his canon characters or languages. I do not receive any form of compensation for this fanfiction. Original characters are my property.

Chapter List
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“I do not like this.” Aldalómë said quietly as he reached the stone outcropping where Legolas waited for the scouting party to return. The uncomfortable feeling only intensified his already growing frustration at the young prince.
“I am not going back, not yet.” Legolas stated, glancing briefly at the Chief March Warden before turning his gaze back toward the approaching rider. “For now, the least I can do is see to the safety of these people. It is what my father would have me do.”
“The scouts are returning.” Träëliôrn stated as he reined his mount to a halt near the Prince and the Chief March Warden. “It looks like a group about half the size of what we found in the cave.” He added, glancing between the two of them. “There is only one wagon. It appears to be only men on horseback, no women or children.”
“How long before they arrive?” Aldalómë asked, still watching the western horizon for any sign of them.
“They look to be about forty miles out.” Träëliôrn replied, looking at the Prince. “Pulling a wagon, I would say before nightfall.”
“Träëliôrn, come with me.” Aldalómë stated as he turned away from them, striding purposefully toward their makeshift camp. “Find Ivósaar and bring him here.” He added, glancing back over his shoulder at the forest patrol captain.
“Eluandúnië.” Aldalómë said quietly as he reached the other March Warden. “I am sending Träëliôrn and Ivósaar with you and your troops to act as an escort to the others. I will take the Prince and the rest back to caves. Meet us at Hoarwell Pass and we will decide what to do then.”
“Good idea.” Eluandúnië chuckled, glancing back over Aldalómë’s shoulder at the prince. “I do not care for sitting out here in the open like this.” He said as he turned away from him, his gaze searching the faces of his troops for lieutenant Côrnäith.
Sighing heavily, Aldalómë nodded as he scanned the landscape around them. It was a desolate place with a dark sense of foreboding in the shadows of Carn Dûm and Mount Gundabad. The plains of Arnor were unknown to the elves of the Woodland Realm as few traveled beyond the Misty Mountains. He wondered at the words of the half-elf in the caves, he could not shake the feeling there was still much she had left unsaid. Elves and men played no part in the Mage Wars of the early part of the First Age. It was a battle fought between the Valar and those Maia who had been corrupted by Melkor. Sauron, known then as Annatar had been the mightiest of those corrupted and he was sure it was his evil presence now felt in Dol Guldur and Mordor.
“Prince Legolas.” Aldalómë said quietly as he approached him. “I would have a word with you.”
“What is it Aldalómë?” Legolas asked, a slight frown furrowing his brow as climbed down from his perch.
“You are right.” The Chief March Warden said quietly once they were alone. “I cannot know how you feel. Yet I have a duty to remind you that you are the only heir, the last in the line of the throne for which your father has sacrificed so much. Would you have those sacrifices be for nothing? It may not be to your liking but you have no right...”
“I have every right!” Legolas exclaimed angrily, his pale gray blue eyes darkening as if a great storm brewed within him. “He is my father! He is all I have and I want him back!”
“We will continue to search for him but not with you.” Aldalómë told him, his gaze hardening as he stared back at the young Prince. “I have been one of your fathers’ closest friends since the great journey east. On the day you were born, I vowed to him that if anything should happen to him, I would protect you with my life if necessary. We will see to the safety of these people. I have sent Eluandúnië out to escort the others to Hoarwell Pass. But you will return to the caves with me now.”
“Enough!” He exclaimed as the prince opened his mouth to speak. “You will follow my orders willingly lest I change my mind and we return your fathers’ halls without delay. If I must bind you to the damned saddle I will do so!” He stated as he leaned toward him threateningly.
“You would not dare!” Legolas hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the Chief March Warden.
“I will gladly face my fathers’ reprimand for mistreating you, but I will not be held to account for returning with the body of a dead prince.”   Aldalómë stated, leaning close enough to feel his breath. “Now, I have humored you long enough. Prepare to leave this place.” He stated as he turned away from him, striding toward Eluandúnië and the mounted troops behind him.
“Keep your eyes on the mountains to the north.” Aldalómë said quietly as he grasped the halter of Eluandúnië’s mount to stay him. “I sense there is truth to the half-elf’s words, but I do not think she has told us everything. I have felt a shift in the balance of things.” He told him then stepped back as Eluandúnië raised his hand, giving the signal to move out.
“Gráthgör!” Aldalómë called out for his lieutenant as he glanced briefly back toward the young prince. “Get the men ready, we are returning to the caves.” He said quietly as the lieutenant sprinted quickly up to him.
Frozen in place, Legolas watched as the men broke camp and quickly rounded up their mounts to leave. Rage built within him, feeling torn between his need to continue the search for his father and the uncertainty of whether Aldalómë would carry out his threat to bind him to his mount did not sit well with him. In the back of his mind, the part of him that he had shut out, he knew the Chief March Warden was right. Yet there was that larger part of him that wanted and needed his Adar (Father), he was all he had of a family and his absence hurt beyond words. They had found nothing of him, there was nothing to tell him what happened to him, leaving him feeling empty and lost.
~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~
“We could move a lot faster without that second wagon.” Odhrán sighed heavily as they made camp just south of Amon Sol in the foothills of Weather Hills.
“There’s still a good weeks travel before we reach the bridge at Thorbad.” Taráthiël stated as he tied the horses to the back of the main wagon. “Less for the horses to carry right now. We will burn them both once we get through the Hollin Pass, the smoke will attract the attention of the people of Drimmill Dale. Cerá cannot use magic so close to Dol Guldur.”
“There is still a chance the necromancer will sense his presence.” Daedalus said quietly as he added a few small branches to the fire beneath the small cookpot.
“I have selfishly endangered everyone.” Cerályië whispered, his body still weakened from the exertion that morning. “I have been such a fool.”
“No Cerá.” Edicûve said quietly, pulling the blanket tighter around him as he sank down onto the cot beside him. “You did what you had to do, you saved his life. Lochinvar would never have made it to Harad, Thranduil is too well known. If you had not taken him, he would have tortured him to death to hide what he had done.”
“Still, they are worried.” Cerályië sighed as he turned his attention away from the conversation just beyond the wagon. “I do not blame them.” He added, leaning heavily against him.
“I want to stay on the East-West Road until we reach the Trallshaws.” He continued after a long silence between them. “I prefer to camp under the cover of a forest right now rather than out in the open.”
“Crossing the Bruinen at the Ford will bring us close to Imladris.” Edicûve said quietly. “It is at least a hundred miles from there to the Hollin Pass.”
“I need to rest mellon nîn (my friend).” Cerályië said quietly, his gaze turning toward the still sleeping form of Thranduil on the other cot. “Soon he will awaken and I am still too weak to deal with him.”
“Lay down.” Edicûve told him as he rose to his feet, guiding him down onto the cot. “I will bring you the broth when it is ready.” He added quietly as he leaned down, daring to kiss his lips softly.
“Goheno nin.” (Forgive me) Cerályië whispered as he returned the kiss.
“There is nothing to forgive.” He told him as he ran his fingers lightly across his face, tucking the stray tresses behind his ear. “Try to rest. I will inform the others of your wishes.”
Touching his cheek gently, Edicûve collected himself and quickly stepped out of the covered wagon. Closing the door behind him, his gaze found Taráthiël with the horses at the back side of it.
“There is a change in plans.” He stated quietly as he approached him. “We are to stay on this road until we reach the woods of Trallshaws.”
“Why? We need to avoid others. The planned route to Thorbad is far less traveled.” Taráthiël stated, patting the broad neck of his mount before turning away from them.
“Cerá is still too weak.” He said quietly as he guided him farther away from the group. “We need to reach the cover of the forest where he can rest fully before we go any farther.”
“What about Thranduil?” Taráthiël asked, concern etching his face visibly as he looked back at the wagon.
“He still sleeps for now but we must leave soon.” Edicûve sighed heavily, staring off toward the east. “I fear Cerá may have reached too deeply and spent too much of himself. He was not this weakened after we escaped Carn Dûm.”
“He warned us.” Taráthiël said quietly, studying his friend. “You have to do it.” He told him, clasping his shoulder reassuringly.
Nodding Edicûve moved away from him toward the small fire where Daedalus had been cooking the stew for their meal. He knew Cerályië would be angry with him but Taráthiël was right, they needed him to be at his full strength before they reached the Hollin Pass. Môrrosseth had assured him that she had used it on him before with no ill effects. Collecting one of the mugs nearby, he filled it with the broth from the small cookpot, stepping away from the group before adding the liquid the healer had made for him. Opening the door to the covered wagon, he hoped Cerályiës’ dislike for the taste of meat would disguise it.
Struggling against the weight of the darkness that wrapped around him like a heavy winter cloak, Thranduil became aware of the stillness around him. There was a presence in the darkness, letting him know he was not alone. It felt distant yet somehow familiar as it wrapped him with a sense of comfort in the silent void. Fleeting glimpses of a deep blue velvety night sky filled with bright starlight flickered through his thoughts, feeling more like memories of a time or a place that he could not recall. Reaching toward it he felt fear grip him as it retreated from him, then he felt it brush by him, surrounding him, caressing his skin like a warm summer breeze, filling him with a sense of peacefulness. Weary, his struggles seemed to fade, a heaviness settled over him as he was pulled back into a warm embrace like a child being cradled protectively in its mothers arms.
The wooded area known as the Trallshaws Forest was little more than the fifty mile long narrow strip woods that grew on the northern side of the East-West Road. There were no villages, only a small inn at the edge of the wood on the western side of the Bruinen River, the last stop for food or a nights rest for those headed through the High Pass in the Misty Mountains.
Cerályië stared at the glowing embers beneath the small cookpot, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the meat roasting on the spit. The only consolation was that it was rabbit, far more palatable to him than the darker meat of a deer. He was still more than a little irritated at Edicûve for whatever was added to the broth he had given him. Yet, the deeper sleep had allowed his body to recuperate much of his lost strength. The dried fruits and nuts had sustained him thus far but he knew he needed more if he was to regain his former strength. Closing his eyes he listened to the forest around him, hearing nothing but the soft buzz of insects and the subtle movements of smaller nocturnal creatures. The gentle breeze moving through the trees felt comfortable, not chilled as it had been yet the warmth felt earlier had faded with the setting of the sun.
~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~
“You should get some sleep young prince.” Eluandúnië said quietly as he lowered his tall frame onto the ground beside him. “You will need all of your senses once we enter the forest.”
“Nobody understands.” Legolas stated, his tone was dry and emotionless as he stared off into the darkness of the night.
“Perhaps it feels like that.” Eluandúnië sighed, his long slender fingers absently toying with the trampled grass in front of him. “You need to remember, you are not the only one to have lost their family. Many were left orphans after the Battle of the Last Alliance, including your father.”
“It’s just that it hurts so much.” Legolas said quietly, his voice cracking with his pain. “I have nothing but questions. Perhaps if...” He cut himself off, afraid that actually saying the words would make them true.
“Even if there was a grave to mark the memory, it would not lessen your pain.” He told him, turning to meet the sad gaze of the young prince. “Like your grandfather, my father fell at the Battle of Dagorlad.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze back to the dry grass in his fingers.
“I cannot bury my feelings so easily.” Legolas said, watching Aldalómë in the distance as he moved among the men.
“You think it is easy for him?” Eluandúnië asked, leaning back as if to get a better view of the young prince, his brows rising high on his forehead. “He blames himself for failing to protect him and he is still very much in love with your Adar (Father).”
“What do you mean still?” Legolas asked, a deep frown creasing his brow as he continued to stare at the Chief March Warden.
“Aldalómë blames himself for much of the sadness your father has been forced to endure.” He said, his shoulders slumping slightly as he too watched the tall golden haired elf move about amongst the troops.
“They have much history together.” He continued, feeling the young prince’s gaze boring into him. “They were lovers once when they were very young, barely five hundred years old. The king sought to separate them as he did not approve. Your father was exiled to Lórinand and forced into a marriage neither he nor your mother wanted. For his part, Aldalómë was promoted but was sent to Emyn-nu-Orod (Mirkwood Mountains), only permitted to return once Thranduil’s betrothal was announced.”
“I knew the marriage between my parents was arranged and that my father was not happy about it.” Legolas sighed, his gaze turning inward as he thought about his father and Aldalómë as lovers. It was strange to him that his father only chose ellyn’s (male elf) as lovers after his mother had abandoned them.
“You have been the light of his life and his greatest joy.” Eluandúnië stated, finally turning to meet his guarded stare.
“At least I am proof that he is capable of being with an elleth (elf maiden).” Legolas said softly, almost hesitantly, frowning inwardly as Eluandúnië only chuckled, realizing he sensed that he was fishing for more information about that part of his father’s life.
“Your father has not lacked for companionship from either since the Queen chose to depart these lands.” He said quietly, the lilt of humor still clear in his tone.
“I have asked him why he never married again.” Legolas stated as he looked away from him into the distance, not seeing anything but the image of his father in his thoughts.
“There is no real answer to what you seek Legolas.” Eluandúnië told him as he reached over, clasping his shoulder. “You must find the way to yourself on your own, only you know how you feel inside. But I will tell you this, your father believes in his heart that marriage is to be bound only by true love.”
“Riddles!” Legolas exclaimed silently as he watched the March Warden rise to his feet and stride off toward the main part of the camp.
Closing his eyes, Legolas tried to shut out the images that crept unbidden into his mind, stolen memories of things he should not have seen on those nights he silently snuck into his fathers’ bed chamber. Remembering how horrified he was at first as he watched his father in the throes of passion with his personal servant Galion, yet he was fascinated, even aroused by it. It was that excitement that pulled him back through that long forgotten secret passage from the nursery in hopes of seeing them together again.
Resting his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands as he gave in, allowing the images to flow freely through his mind. The ache in his groin grew painful as he imagined his beautiful father laying there spread beneath the Chief March Warden as he took him. Then as always, the images faded to himself as he looked down at his fathers’ face, his mouth open in a silent cry as he thrust into him, filling him with his own passion.
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- 12
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Of Light and Shadow