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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 12116 -:- 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-Advent
- 2-Bridging
- 3-Pledges
- 4-Serendipity
- 5-Deepening
- 6-Request
- 7-Bedfellows
- 8-Liaison
- 9-Catalyst
- 10-Tidings
- 11-Profession
- 12-Rift
- 13-Seeking
- 14-Confluence
- 15-Oneness
- 16-Assignation
- 17-Covenant
- 18-Gambit
- 19-Recovery
- 20-Bond
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter XII: Rift

Shocked into momentary immobility, Legolas was slow to react. But once the enormity of his folly dawned on him, he was galvanized into full action. Scrambling out of bed, he grabbed his nightclothes, threw them on and dashed out after Elrohir.

He hurried to the Elf-knight’s bedchamber while his mind sought to compose an adequate apology. That is, if there was any apology adequate enough to balm the wound he had inflicted with his injurious words. But a peek inside the darkened room informed him that Elrohir had not returned there. The conjecture that the warrior would surely seek his twin’s company and comfort sent him racing to Elladan’s apartments.

To his dismay, he found the older twin’s room empty as well, the not quite closed door and hastily thrown back bedcovers evidence of a hasty exit. The brethren had departed for Elbereth only knew where. Legolas sagged against the wall, his slender frame tremulous with anxiety.

They would not have left the Last Homely House. Not in this chill weather and clad in mere bed-robes. But there were numerous bedchambers in the house where they could have secreted themselves. Legolas knew it would be impossible to locate them without disturbing the sleep of a good many others along the way.

Ai, curse his wayward tongue! Whatever had possessed him to utter such a criminally ludicrous answer to the Elf-knight’s declaration of love? Granted that he had been shaken to the very foundations of his soul and his thoughts thrown into chaos – that was still no excuse for responding as he had to so sweet and heartfelt a profession as that which Elrohir had made to him. It should have been received with pleasure and graciousness; should have awed and humbled him that the warrior could care for him so. But instead of greeting the confession with the affection it deserved… Legolas cringed inwardly as he remembered once more the look in Elrohir’s eyes just before he slipped out the door. In that instant, the earlier chasm had reopened between them, wider and deeper than before.

Feeling as if his heart would burst, the archer returned to his room. He had no choice but to await the next day’s dawning. Until then, he could only hope he had not irreparably tarnished his precious relationship with Elrohir.

But the following morning brought no relief for his misery. Neither twin appeared at the morning meal. Both were conspicuously absent from the day’s various meetings concerning the upcoming quest. And neither showed up at any of their usual haunts for the rest of the day. Most frustrating of all was that no one could tell him where they were. It seemed the brethren had elected to keep their whereabouts a secret even from their father and sister.

To prevent them from telling me in turn, Legolas thought dolefully as he tramped back from the barracks to the house. He wondered what they were doing. He tried not to imagine what they might talk about for it was certain he would be at the center of their discussions and not in a flattering light at that.

Nightfall finally brought him some respite though he later thought it no respite at all for the grief it caused him. He was on his way to Elrond’s study to help him draft a letter to his father in Mirkwood explaining Legolas’ decision to join the Fellowship. He did not blame Elrond for wishing to personally inform Thranduil of this turn of events. The Elvenking would not be pleased at all to learn that his youngest had chosen to embark on so perilous an undertaking. He would be even more displeased if he learned of it from other sources.

As he rounded the corner of the corridor heading toward the study, he sighted a familiar tall figure just exiting the room. For one thrilling moment he thought it was Elrohir. But in the next instant, he realized it was Elladan. Well, better one twin rather than none at all, he thought as he sprinted to intercept the warrior.

Elladan frowned reprovingly when he found his way blocked by one determined woodland prince. Yet he did not brush past Legolas but looked pointedly at him while waiting for the latter to state his reason for staying him. Under his considerably lukewarm regard, the archer found himself flushing with renewed guilt and shame.

“I have been looking for Elrohir all day,” he said hesitantly.

“He does not wish to be found,” Elladan bluntly replied. “Least of all by you.”

Keenly feeling the sting of the terse refusal, Legolas retorted somewhat heatedly, “But I have to talk to him! To explain about last night. You must bring me to him!”

Elladan adamantly shook his head. “Leave him be, Legolas,” he curtly said. “Let him lick his wounds in solitude.”

Legolas visibly flinched at the image the warrior’s words conjured. He looked away, hands clenching and unclenching in his frustration.

“I did not mean to hurt him,” he whispered.

“I know you did not,” Elladan coolly acknowledged. “If you spoke carelessly ‘tis because you take him for granted.” Scowling at the prince’s startled reaction, he continued with his charge: “You often give no thought to the effects of your words or actions on him. So willingly has my brother catered to your needs but you do not always consider his. You have grown so complacent in your confidence of his faithful regard that ‘tis no wonder so coveted a thing as his hard-won love proved of little consequence to you.”

“Nay, that is not so!” Legolas exclaimed, horrified that Elrohir might believe this of him. He placed a chilled hand to his brow. “Mayhap you are right and I have indeed treated him with less esteem than he deserves,” he conceded shakily. “But ‘twas never my intent to pain him so. I would never do him harm, Elladan.”

“Yet you did do him harm,” Elladan caustically pointed out. “You not only hurt him but humiliated him as well, Legolas.” Ignoring the Wood-elf’s pained gasp, he added: “Elrohir does not wear his pride openly but it is there nonetheless. When you made light of his confession—” His innate benevolence resurfacing, Elladan stopped when the archer’s countenance blanched to a startling degree. “He is not ready to face you just yet,” he finished in a more kindly tone.

Legolas bowed his head in shame. “Will he see me before I leave?” he mumbled.

“I do not know,” Elladan replied honestly.

The archer swallowed hard then lifted his head. His eyes were unnaturally bright and his mouth quivered ever so faintly though he fought to still it. “I cannot bear to go without knowing his forgiveness,” he said entreatingly. “Please tell him this.”

Elladan only nodded his acquiescence before going on down the hallway. Legolas leaned disconsolately against the wall, wondering if Elrohir would hearken to his plea. Not that he deserved any consideration from the Elf-knight, he thought forlornly. Sighing, he straightened and went on to Elrond’s study.

********

He did not reap much comfort in the days that followed. Days that swept by with unwelcome speed.

The week passed more swiftly than any of the Fellowship could like. In seven days since the brethren’s return to the valley, the Company would have to leave it, Elrond had said. The seven days came to an end all too soon.

During the course of the week, the possible routes the Company might take and the probabilities of danger and succor were discussed repeatedly until the hobbits were all but swooning from the surfeit of information. Weapons were readied, Aragorn’s Anduril being treated with special reverence when it was reforged. What spare gear the Company would take with them was prepared with the Elves’ usual efficiency and care.

On the last day, a final round of instruction was given in Elrond’s study. Later, as the winter sun slowly sank below the horizon, farewells played out in the great hall by the fire. The hobbits spent every possible moment with Bilbo, saddened that they must leave him behind. Aragorn took leave of his beloved Evenstar. Glóin bestowed his blessings upon his son Gimli. And Mithrandir spoke long with Elrond regarding any concerns they might have missed.

Boromir of Gondor bade no one in particular goodbye. And it seemed neither did Legolas of Mirkwood; he was not seen in the hall.

The woodland prince had retreated to his room right after the meeting with the rest of the Fellowship in Elrond’s study, his face a cool mask that belied the turmoil and sense of bereavement in his heart. There was only one he longed to speak with ere the Company departed but that one had evaded him throughout the week. He did not care to make any public farewells if Elrohir would not be there to see him off.

Now, as he gave the contents of his small travelling pack a final perusal, he considered the bleakness of his situation. He would be leaving on the quest without the Elf-knight’s pardon. Would be parted from his most cherished friend with this dreadful division between them. He slung the pack across his back along with his quiver and picked up his bow. His thoughts continued along their gloomy path. If he perished in the course of this venture, he would do so without the certitude of Elrohir’s constant regard to ease his passing to the Halls of Awaiting.

This last realization struck him hard and he despondently sank down onto the edge of his bed. His eyes stung and his throat ached as he fought to keep from weeping. Feeling as lost and forsaken as an orphaned Elfling in a jostling crowd of strangers, he brushed his incipient tears away with the back of his hand.

“Legolas?”

The archer tensed upon hearing the hushed query. He lifted his head and caught his breath. Elrohir stood on the threshold of his chamber. He lurched to his feet and hastened toward the warrior. Elrohir met him halfway.

“Oh Valar!” Legolas whispered tightly, all but clutching at the twin’s shoulders. “I thought you would stay away! Where have you been all this time?”

“In the old nursery rooms,” the Elf-knight answered. “Where Elladan and I spent our childhood days.” At the archer’s bemused reaction, he explained: “You would never have thought to look for me there.”

Legolas felt as if he had been slapped. “Then Elladan was right,” he said mournfully. “You truly did not wish to see me.”

Elrohir did not attempt to pretend otherwise but only said: “Not at once. I could not bear—” He broke off with a shake of his head. “No matter. That is not why I am here. I came to give you this.”

Legolas started as his hands were taken and something slipped into them. He stared in astonishment at the twin’s gift. Housed in its fine leather sheath was Elrohir’s long white knife. An heirloom weapon harking back to the Elder days; one half of a pair first wielded by Tuor in Gondolin then used by Eärendil ere they came to Elrond who in turn handed them to his sons when they reached their majority. The twins had borne them ever since, using them to deadly effect upon their foes. Legolas had never seen Elrohir without it whether he ventured into battle, the chase or errantry.

Legolas gazed at Elrohir in wonderment. The Elf-knight compelled him to curl his fingers around the weapon.

“If I cannot go with you then I would have you take a part of me with you, ernilen”—my prince—he softly explained. “It would ease my heart to know you armed with this.”

Legolas swallowed hard then wordlessly strapped the knife in its sheath to his belt. Elrohir smiled faintly then turned toward the door.

“Come, the others have gathered in the Hall of Fire,” he said glancing over his shoulder. “You should join them.”

Legolas grasped his wrist. “Wait!” he cried. “There is something I must ask of you.”

Elrohir halted and turned back to face the archer.

Legolas searched his face beseechingly. “Forgive me, Elrohir,” he pleaded. “It was thoughtless – nay, cruel of me to belittle your declaration. I know I have proven myself unworthy of your regard but I would beg your pardon at least.” He dared to step closer to the warrior. “Please, do not send me away in anger,” he whispered. “I cannot bear it.”

Elrohir fell silent for a space then sighed and looked at him sadly. “‘Tis I who should beg forgiveness,” he said. “It was presumptuous of me to believe that you felt as I did. And then I fled and stayed away instead of threshing this out with you. I am sorry, Legolas.”

The archer stared at him, taken aback that he should now strive to lift his spirits at his own expense. Uncaring of a possible rebuff, he threw his arms around the Elf-knight. “I do not wish to lose my dearest friend, the one I love and esteem above all others,” he implored. “Please, Elrohir, do not cast me aside.”

He could have sobbed out loud in relief when he felt the Elf-knight’s arms enfold him, hugging him back.

“I would never cast you aside,” Elrohir assured him. “I still hold you closest to my heart of all my kith. That remains and always will, no matter what the future bodes for us.” He drew back and cupped the prince’s face. “It is of no import how I love you, Legolas. Only that I do. Always remember that.”

Legolas nodded mutely, too overcome with emotion to speak. With a gentleness that left the archer trembling like a leaf in a brisk breeze, Elrohir pressed his lips to the prince’s brow.

A fit of longing hit the archer and he quickly chased after the warrior’s lips, capturing them in a kiss that begged for the closure of the rift between them. He feared Elrohir would balk and push him away and tightened his hold on the twin.

But Elrohir proved his heart true and returned the caress, clearly conveying his willingness to try and heal their suddenly fractured relationship. The prince was acutely aware that, with his departure, matters could not be wholly mended. But at least, this was a start. Much heartened, he anchored himself on his Elf-knight’s tenderness and found the wherewithal to put on a composed face when their embrace ended.

Elrohir held out his hand and Legolas slipped his into it. Together, they left the room and strode to the Hall of Fire.

To be continued…
- 11
- 12
- 13
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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond