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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6313 -:- 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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Chapter XII: Perchance to Dream

Elrohir and Elladan celebrated their shared begetting day with a lively picnic by the cascades of Artirion, a choice very much in accordance with their predilection for informal but fellowship-filled social affairs. In attendance were family and a few select friends whose company Elrond’s family treasured. Counted among these were Gimli and the three Halflings who, as usual, made short work of the bountiful feast laid out before them; not to mention quaffed more than their share of potent Maltaurean ale of which Celeborn and Galadriel had brought a generous quantity. It was very much an intimate gathering filled with affection for the celebrants and mirth at their not unexpected antics.

It was with wonder and some amusement that many of the guests regarded the brethren. The sight of fifteen-year-old Elrohir ensconced in three-thousand-plus Elladan’s lap amazed even the older twin’s children. But how else could one react to the image of their father cuddling a younger, smaller version of himself, a unique picture of twins at widely disparate ages?

“If anyone had told me I would behold such a wondrous thing I would have called him delusional,” Elros remarked as he lazily nestled in Lindir’s embrace.

“You should talk,” Elendir grinned. He was munching on a juicy peach. “I imagine it must be even more strange for those who saw Ada and Uncle grow up together in Imladris. Am I not right, Lindir?”

Elladan’s chief steward nodded. “I was speaking with Glorfindel and Erestor about it just this morning,” he said. “Every first sight of them never fails to startle us into speechlessness.”

Legolas, however, found the effect quite charming and it was with great pleasure that he finally presented his gifts to the brothers. And when said gifts were led forth by his retainers, they elicited admiring gasps from just about everyone present.

To Elladan he gave a magnificent midnight-hued stallion sired by one of Thranduil’s prized studs. But for Elrohir, there was a lively silvery grey colt, brother to Elladan’s steed. Both twins were elated by their gifts but Elrohir, in his extreme youth, was more forthcoming in his display of gratitude.

He joyously launched himself into Legolas’ arms, hugged him fervently, then demanded to mount his present at once. The prince gingerly lifted him onto the colt, which, as though recognizing its new owner, immediately ceased its restless pawing and became as gentle as a newborn lamb.

“What will you name him?” Elrond asked his youngest child with an indulgent smile.

“I am not sure,” the Elfling replied, screwing up his comely face in thought. “What do you think, Legolas?”

The archer beamed, pleased to be consulted before anyone else. Remembering Elrohir’s warhorse in Middle-earth, he suggested, “How about ‘Tinnu’?”

“The time of twilight when the stars are at their brightest,” Elladan reminded his brother, admiring the way the archer introduced the old name.

Elrohir grinned. “Tinnu,” he repeated. “Aye, that is perfect, Legolas! I knew you would think of just the right name.” He looked so worshipfully at the prince it made the latter’s heart virtually melt to mush.

“Ada?”—Papa? “You promised me I could have anything I wished for today,” Elrohir said to Elrond.

“Within reason,” Elrond prudently allowed. There was no telling what the boy might ask for if the choices of his former life were anything to go by.

“May I go with Legolas when he returns to Taur Galen?” he wheedled. “I have not gone there yet.”

Elrond and Celebrían looked from their son to the prince, somewhat taken aback. They were even more nonplussed when Legolas did not look surprised in the least at the request.

“I presume he spoke of this to you?” Elrond commented.

Legolas nodded. “I saw no harm in acceding to his request,” he admitted. “But I told him he needed your permission first. I promise I will take good care of him.”

He bit his lip, unsure whether they would permit him to take Elrohir with him to his father’s realm. After all, the Elfling was very young and had not ventured further from home than the shores of Eldamar.

Celebrían smiled with understanding. “We know you will take utmost care of him,” she gently answered. “And in truth, you have as much claim to him as we do,” she softly added. “Mayhap even more.”

Legolas blushed at the implied meaning behind her statement. Thankfully, Celebrían had kept her voice low enough for her words to elude Elrohir’s hearing. The archer smiled shyly at his once-and-future law-parents. Elrond was even regarding him with paternal fondness.

“I will bring him back soonest,” the prince offered.

“Nay, Legolas,” Elrond quietly demurred. “He may stay with you for as long as either of you wish.” The Elf-lord’s eyes gleamed with compassion for the prince.

Legolas’ smile grew even wider. He glanced at Elrohir who had listened to his father’s words with increasing disbelief and glee.

“As long as we wish?” he reiterated excitedly.

“Aye, ion nîn”—my son—Elrond affirmed.

Elrohir laughed in sheer delight. “How about forever?” he teased Legolas with an impishness reminiscent of his boyhood in his first life.

The breath caught in the archer’s throat. All innocently, Elrohir had voiced his deepest desire. “I would not mind,” he softly replied, stoically enduring the knowing looks leveled at him

Elrohir departed with him for Taur Galen two days later. Only the Elfling’s nurse, the ever-faithful Almáriel, accompanied her young charge. In choosing to allow their child to go virtually alone with Legolas, Elrond and Celebrían were making it clear to all just how much they trusted the prince. It was their subtle way of telling all Valinor that they still acknowledged and honored the binding between their child and Thranduil’s son.

For Legolas, it was a magical period and a happy one. He brought Elrohir everywhere with him. Exploring the green wood by foot or on horse, teaching him to swim in the river at the forest’s edge, even attending a few sessions in his father’s court. And he also took him hunting, a first for the Elfling.

Though all Elves were skillful hunters by nature, the Wood-elves were the acknowledged masters of the chase. Long accustomed to hunting for their sustenance in Middle-earth, they did not now abandon the practice and thrived on the even more cunning beasts of Valinor. Elrohir learned firsthand how to stalk plump pheasant, elusive buck and ill-tempered wild boar and how to evade the menacing claws of Taur Galen’s ferocious bears. In keeping with the fierce warrior he had once been and would one day again become, Elrohir loved every minute. He did Legolas proud and shocked the other hunters as he moved with almost preternatural stealth and precision, astonishing in an Elf barely removed from infancy.

One hunt, however, proved an unexpected catalyst, and marked the advent of far-reaching changes in Elrohir’s life. Later, Legolas would ponder if the Valar had willed it to happen.

The little Elf-knight’s demeanor had altered during the chase. He had looked about the forest with perplexity, his face screwing up as if trying to recall something. And then he had started when a fileg had swooped down upon him without warning. Legolas could have sworn he saw real fear in the child’s eyes though the latter, with typical Elrohirian pride, staunchly insisted that he was not in the least perturbed by such a small bird.

That night he had gone to bed early, tired out by the hunt. Legolas, confident of the boy’s security under Almáriel’s watchful eyes, had spent the better part of the evening in the company of his old friends, Heledir and Mithrael. It was near the midnight hour when he finally sauntered back to his home.

He was passing down the tree-lined pathway that led to his house when he heard the unexpected sounds of whimpers and sobs. Alarmed, he followed the sounds to one of the trees and peered around it. He was dumbfounded to discover a small figure huddled on the grass, tremors wracking its slender frame.

“Elrohir!” With tender concern, Legolas swiftly knelt before the Elfling and scooped him into his arms. At once, Elrohir flung his arms around his neck and buried his tear-streaked face in his shoulder.

“What is wrong?” Legolas whispered, hugging him tightly. “Why are you out here alone? Where is Almáriel?”

“I-I do not know,” Elrohir wailed. “I woke up and she was not there.”

Legolas swore inwardly. Where was the nurse? “What frightened you?” he murmured.

“I had a b-bad dream,” Elrohir sniffled. “It was ho-horrible.”

“What did you dream of?” Legolas asked gently, stroking the silky tresses reassuringly.

“I-I was in a dark fo-forest with Elladan,” the child stammered. “We were stalking a deer when a-a scary monster with-with many legs attacked Elladan. I k-killed it but many more started to come! You arrived with other Elves to help us.” He cringed visibly in the prince’s arms. “But another beast came after me and then I-I woke up!”

Legolas felt a chill race up his spine. Elbereth, that was no dream, he thought. That actually happened. ‘Twas the twins’ first encounter with the spiders of Greenwood the Great!

“Legolas?” Elrohir quavered. “What were those monsters? I have never seen anything like them before.”

“Aye, you have not,” the prince agreed. “For they do not exist in Valinor. But in Middle-earth they are called ‘spiders’.”

“Spiders?” Elrohir’s eyes widened in puzzlement. “But why did I dream of them? I have never seen any before.”

“Are you certain?” Legolas probed gently. He wanted to allay the child’s fears as much as possible. “Mayhap Elladan told you about them. He came across them in my old home of Eryn Galen.”

Elrohir looked doubtful. “I do not remember any tales about spiders,” he said. “And-and I looked strange in my dream,” he added quaveringly.

“In what way?’

“I was—I was taller—bigger. I looked a lot like Elladan but I knew it was me.” He clung to Legolas fearfully. “I am scared,” he sobbed anew. “Why did I look like that?”

“I cannot say,” Legolas carefully replied. “But do not be afraid, Elrohir. I am with you. I would never let you come to any harm, dearest one.”

The child pulled back slightly and gazed at him, wondering at the unexpected endearment. Legolas swallowed hard. It was difficult staring into those twilight pools. They recalled too many memories of another life and a love well treasured.

But before either could speak again, Almáriel suddenly appeared, highly upset by the disappearance of her charge from his bed. Legolas rose to his feet, still holding Elrohir close in his arms. He frowned at the nurse, silently inquiring about her whereabouts.

“I am so sorry, my lord,” she gasped, flustered, correctly discerning his expression. “I stepped out for a chat with some friends. I did not think he would wake up whilst I was gone.”

“You should have informed me that he would be alone,” Legolas said severely. The nurse flushed guiltily. The prince knew he was not being entirely fair. How could anyone foresee that Elrohir would relive a past event in the form of a nightmare? But he could not be fair. Not when the matter impinged on his Elf-knight’s well being.

“It will not happen again,” Almáriel murmured, chastened. She reached out to the Elfling. “Come, Elrohir, let us return to your room.”

To their surprise, Elrohir drew back further into Legolas’ embrace and defiantly said, “I want to stay with Legolas.”

“Now, now, hirneth”—lordling— Almáriel crooned soothingly. “You cannot stay with his Highness.”

“But I want to!” Elrohir insisted. He looked pleadingly at Legolas. “Can I not stay with you?”

Before the prince could answer, Almáriel intervened. “Nay, Elrohir, ‘tis not right. Prince Legolas may not want your presence in his chambers tonight.”

“Why not?” Elrohir shot back, mouth pouting mutinously. It was all Legolas could do not to laugh.

“Well, because—because—” Almáriel floundered for a good reason. Alarmed at the dawning triumph in her impudent charge’s countenance, she uttered the first thing she could think of that made any sense. “Well, his Highness may have other company tonight!”

The Elfling’s eyes rounded so alarmingly that Legolas flicked a reproving glare at Almáriel who in turn wilted visibly. She should have known better than to upset Elrohir before the prince and with such an absurd and altogether impossible suggestion at that.

“Other company?” Elrohir repeated tremulously. “You mean like Elladan and Nimeithel?”

Legolas drew his breath in sharply. So young yet so aware of such matters, he thought. He felt the child’s gaze on him before it turned back to Almáriel. All unexpectedly, he bawled, “But-but Legolas is mine!”

Both prince and nurse gaped at him. Swimming grey eyes met the archer’s azure gaze.

Elrohir sniffed. “You—you don’t have someone waiting for you, do you?” he whimpered.

Legolas let a slow breath out. He regarded Elrohir with solemn tenderness. “Nay, dearest, there is no one,” he softly assured him. “Of course, you may stay with me tonight. And any other night that you should need me,” he added decisively.

“But, hir nîn—!”—my lord!

A severe stare quelled the nurse’s protests. Elrohir’s face brightened up considerably now that his champion had come down squarely on his side. “You are mine, aren’t you,” he reiterated, more confident than ever of his place with the prince.

The blue eyes softened immeasurably. “Aye, Elrohir, I am yours,” Legolas agreed with a tender smile.

He heard Almáriel’s shocked intake of breath, knew what she would make of his words. But he did not particularly care. Elrohir, tears forgotten, turned a victorious beaming countenance upon his beleaguered nurse.

“He is mine!” he smugly informed her then buried his face securely in the archer’s neck.

The prince spared the stunned elleth a belated sympathetic glance before walking to the house, Elrohir snug in the circle of his arms.

That night, he barely slept a wink. It felt so much more restful to his mind and heart to simply lie in bed, Elrohir sheltered in the curve of his body, happily cocooned in his protective embrace. Besides, his thoughts were in a whirl as he reviewed the series of coincidences that had occurred from the minute he’d found Elrohir to the moment he carried him into his room.

The Elfling had studied his bedchamber with wide-eyed fascination. He’d then turned to look at the archer and remarked, “I’ve never been here before.”

“Well, you never had a reason before,” Legolas smiled.

The child then beamed and smugly proclaimed, “I do now!”

That had stunned Legolas. It was eerily alike to the exchange he’d had with Elrohir that fateful night in Ithilien. The night the Elf-knight had seduced him anew. As with the nightmare about the spiders of Greenwood, was this also a part of the twin’s awakening memories?

Elrohir had distracted him with another declaration. “Your bedchamber is so big,” he observed. “There’s enough room for two Elves. Why are you alone, Legolas?”

The prince chuckled, amused by the child’s insight. “I thought you did not want me to share my room with anyone,” he reminded the Elfling.

“I do not,” Elrohir agreed vigorously. “Unless ‘tis with me!”

Legolas heaved a sigh at his Elf-knight’s all too precocious pronouncements. Small wonder Elrond and Celebrían oft spoke of the twins’ childhood years with mixed parental pride and befuddled exasperation. If Elrohir’s current statements were any indication of what used to spill out of the brethren’s mouths when they were babes, then their beleaguered parents had Legolas’ heartiest if belated sympathy.

The Elfling then refused to let him out of his sight even for a minute lest the dreaded spiders appeared out of the blue and attacked him. Not even to shed his clothing for nightwear did Elrohir give him leave to go into his bathing chamber. So he undressed as swiftly as he could and slipped into a loose bed-shirt and trousers under the wide-eyed gaze of Elrohir. When he settled beside the young Elf, the latter regarded him with considerable awe.

“You are beautiful!” he pronounced with innocent admiration. “Even more than Elladan, I think!”

Legolas had found himself caught between amusement at the childish observation that was wrought at the expense of the older twin and mingled pride and amazement that Elrohir should be cognizant of such things at so young an age. It certainly recalled the twin’s carnal appetite in his first life.

Legolas drew a deep breath. Just five and thirty more years before I can reclaim you, he mused, gazing raptly at the now slumbering child.

The passage of time oft flowed swiftly for those of Elf-kind and thirty-five years was but a drop in the ocean of eternity. But for one who so desperately yearned for his reward at the end of that period, it seemed as sluggish as the creeping magma that had once poured forth from the molten core of Orodruin.

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

Glossary:

fileg - small bird

elleth - Elf-maid

To be continued…
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight