Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter XIII: Seeking

Lothórien, Ninúi TA 3019

The warrior maid stalked onto the archery yard by the eastward portion of the encircling wall of Caras Galadon, her impatience apparent on her features. Her expression lightened as soon as she sighted her quarry. She rapidly approached the Elf who had just finished with his morning’s drill.

“Duindir, you laggard!” she called out. “Why are you lingering here when we are needed at—” She stopped and peered closely at her comrade-in-arms. “What is that on your jaw?” When the other Elf scowled, she pressed on. “And who dared to treat you so roughly?”

The guard sighed and reluctantly replied: “The Mirkwood prince.”

The elleth—Elf-maid—chuckled. “Oho, I had heard you received a rather cold reception from him last night but not the extent of it. My, but that is a lovely bruise, my friend.

“‘Tis no laughing matter, Lalwen,” he growled. “Valar, but it smarts!” Duindir rubbed his jaw gingerly. “His appearance is deceiving. I had not thought so sweet-featured an Elf could be so swift and forceful with his fist!”

“You got nothing more than you deserved,” she told him. “Importuning him so impertinently. ‘Tis a wonder he did not gut you as well.”

“I would not have approached him had I thought him uninterested,” Duindir protested.

The warrior maid snorted. “Ha! Which is why you now nurse a purpled jaw instead of snuggling up to a warm Mirkwood Elf! Pray tell, why did you think him interested? Because he smiled so charmingly at you at dinner? Fie on you, foolish one. He has bestowed that same smile on others. But have you heard of any he actually took to his bed? What made you think yourself different?”

He stared at her in surprise. “He has not bedded any since the Company’s arrival?” he said.

“None.”

“Why not? Are the Galadhrim not fair enough for him?” Duindir demanded, bristling a bit.

Lalwen shook her head. “‘Tis not that he is indifferent to us,” she said. “He eyes us all as appreciatively as any hot-blooded Elf. I wager he simply does not desire any enough for a tumble.” The warrior maid paused then murmured musingly, “But then I would be more selective myself if I’d had one of Lord Elrond’s sons between my legs.”

“Then the stories are true?” her companion prodded in patent curiosity. “He is Lord Elrohir’s favored tryst-mate?”

She grinned. “More if Haldir heard aright what Elrohir told the Lord and Lady during the brethren’s last visit.”

“Indeed!” Duindir’s interest was completely piqued. “What did Haldir hear?”

“Well, it was not as if he was in the room with them,” she laughed. “But it would seem Lord Elrohir has laid claim to the golden prince’s heart at last.”

The guard’s eyes widened. “And he told them this?” he remarked. “By Elbereth, he is brave. What if the prince rejects his claim? What with his pride – he could never show his face to the Lord and Lady again!”

“Pish!” Lalwen scoffed. “Only a complete want-wit would turn away either of the brethren. And for one who has lain as lover with one of them for centuries – why, that would be the height of lunacy! But hurry now. Rúmil has come to fetch more guards for the northern fences. Trouble is afoot at the borders.”

The two Elf-soldiers hastened away. Neither noticed the figure that stayed hidden in the shadows of a neighboring tree.

Legolas stepped out from behind his place of concealment and eyed the departing pair frowningly. He had come to the archery yard almost on the heels of the warrior maid. But upon espying Duindir, he decided to wait hidden until the guard left. No sense making things uncomfortable for both of them after he had so emphatically turned the presumptuous ellon away the night before.

He had not intended to eavesdrop but when he heard the reference to his affair with Elrohir, he could not keep himself from listening to their conversation. Now he wondered whether it had been a good idea or not to have heard what they had to say.

With the troubles of the Quest taking precedence over personal concerns, he had not had much time to think about his barely mended rift with Elrohir. And the first weeks in the Golden Wood had been devoted to healing his troubled spirit after living through the traumatic events in Moria. But the warriors’ discussion reminded him all over again; remembrance came surging back more keenly than ever.

He was still as befuddled by his rowdy thoughts and feelings as he had been when he left Rivendell. Well, he did not want to remain so. Come what may, he had to put order in his mind and heart. With grim determination, he turned away and headed back to the heart of the city. To the abode of Celeborn and Galadriel.

As kinsman to Celeborn, he was permitted to visit the Lord and Lady any time he desired. He did so now, hastening up the long stairs that led to the massive flet upon which their house rested. He entered the great hall, his advent at once marked by one of Galadriel’s ladies. The Elf-woman ushered him to the small private audience chamber nigh to the living quarters then hurried to inform her mistress of the prince’s arrival.

Legolas did not wait long. Soon, Galadriel came out to greet him. “My dear lord is not here,” she said. “We are sending another company of guards to the northern border and he has gone to see them off.”

Legolas nodded. “So I heard,” he replied. “Is the situation urgent?”

Galadriel sighed and shrugged gracefully. “After the incursion following your arrival in our wood, ‘tis better to be over-prepared than rue incaution after the fact,” she said. “But let us not speak of that. Sit, young prince, and tell me what counsel you seek of me.”

Legolas stared at her in some amazement. Was he that transparent that the Lady could read his intent so easily? Or was she so discerning that little could be kept secret from her? As he took his seat before her, he decided on the latter. After all, she was the Lady of the Golden Wood. Other folk, especially the ignorant and superstitious, called her less flattering names – sorceress, witch, spellbinder – but the Firstborn recognized her astonishing insight and revered her for it. She was the last of the House of Finarfin to still abide in exile in Middle-earth. She possessed memory and knowledge of three ages in the world and had seen the light of the Two Trees ere they passed away. She was wise beyond the measure of most Elves in these Hither Lands. And she was Elrohir’s grandam.

“I am confused. Elrohir told me that his heart is mine to keep,” the prince hesitantly began. At Galadriel’s encouraging nod, he went on to recount the woe that had come between them. When he was done with his tale, he said: “I never expected it and now I know not what to do. We have been friends all my life and I thought we would remain thusly forever.”

“Yet you are also lovers of long standing,” Galadriel softly commented. “As Celeborn and I were friends and lovers ere we bound to each other.”

Legolas was surprised. “You, my lady? I had thought you wed at once.”

She shook her head with a small smile. “Nay, that came much later. When we discovered that we cared for no others,” she explained. “Few Elves keep sole lovers for centuries and of these even fewer do not eventually make spouses of them. ‘Tis our nature to choose one above all to own us even when we do not realize we have done so.”

Legolas gazed at her in wide-eyed fascination. In that instant, he looked heartbreakingly young and innocent and quite forlorn. Ah, Elf-knight, Galadriel thought as she regarded the archer, you took your prince by surprise and he so unready for it. But then, she mused with a secret smile, one did not think clearly when one was deeply in love. The things she and Celeborn had said and done during their own courtship…! They did not bear mentioning if they hoped to keep their dignity intact in this day and age.

She turned her attention back to Legolas. She would never attempt to beguile the archer into a choice of her liking. But she would guide him into knowing his heart that he might be at peace with whatever decision he made. He would need the certainty in the dark days that would come after the Fellowship left the Golden Wood.

“I pray you will not take my queries amiss, Legolas,” she said. “But would you tell me how many lovers you have taken since the day Elrohir first taught you the bed-arts?”

Legolas raised a golden eyebrow, startled by her directness. But he replied nonetheless. “Enough though not as numerous as word would have it. And far more maids than males,” he added as an afterthought much to his own bemusement.

“Why?”

Legolas stared at her, disconcerted by her rather impertinent question. But the Lady was serious – there was a reason for her inquiries.

“They proved disappointing,” he replied honestly.

“In comparison to my grandson?” she pressed.

Legolas hesitated then nodded, blushing ever so slightly.

“Whereas there is no comparing a maiden to him,” Galadriel gently concluded. “Hence your propensity for their company rather than Elves of your gender.”

Legolas bit his lip then sighed. “That is the toll of it,” he admitted.

“And did you keep any of them for long?”

Legolas shrugged. “‘Tis only Elrohir with whom I have trysted without cease through all these centuries. And I have not had another ellon since – since Elrohir let me claim him.” He paused, struck by the realization. “Indeed, I have not bedded anyone else in more than two score years,” he remarked with some wonder.

“And Elrohir has not done so since before the day of your birth.” At Legolas’ shocked expression, she smiled faintly. “Did you not know? Ah, that is so like him not to speak of such matters unless pressed for it. It was a turning point in his life, his saving of yours. He told us long ago that he felt you would one day make or break him. He did not know how or why he felt so, he simply did.”

She waited awhile for Legolas to digest this momentous piece of information. The archer looked away – to the northwest, she noticed. Where the Last Homely House lay. Depths of emotion flickered in his jewel eyes as he stared into the distance. She could well guess what his thoughts were.

“Tell me, prince of Mirkwood,” she ventured delicately, “of the ellyn you deigned to take to your bed, how many did you allow to claim you as Elrohir did?”

Again the archer blushed but he answered readily enough. “None. Other than Elrohir, I trust no one else enough to yield to.”

Galadriel nodded her head knowingly. “As he trusts you alone. For all his years, my grandson has only yielded to a scant handful and they his first lovers from long before you were born. Since then he has shied from yielding once more to any. Until you.”

Legolas swallowed hard. “He never told me,” he whispered. “I assumed that ‘twas no hardship for him.”

“Oh, but it was no hardship for him,” Galadriel assured him. “Not when he trusted you with all his heart and soul.”

“Yet it seems I have not proved worthy of that trust,” Legolas said bitterly. “I hurt him, my lady. I failed him.”

“You would only have failed him if you denied the truth in your heart. If you truly feel nothing more than the love borne for a friend, you are not to be faulted. Do not take this blame upon yourself.”

“I spoke harshly,” the archer said regretfully,

“And who amongst us would be gentle upon hearing so portentous a declaration unprepared?” the Lady countered. “You were not ready for it, Legolas. Even now, you still do not know what it is you feel for him.”

“But how can I know what I do feel?” Legolas asked plaintively. “I have never considered the matter before. I have always known he loved me but never the nature of it. Even less have I given much thought to the feelings I bear him.”

“That is not surprising for you have ever been so close as to have no need for the affirmation of your bond through mere words,” Galadriel pointed out. “But actions can be misconstrued; thoughts when unsaid can be hidden even from those who own them. And love is the most confounding of all feelings, as bewildering to the sage as it is to the unlearned.”

“Yet now is the time to examine your heart,” she said. “You face grave danger; mayhap even death. Even the wisest among us cannot tell who will fall and who will prevail. Without that certitude, it would be prudent to hearken to what your heart tells you. Hear its song, Legolas. Hear and listen well.”

Galadriel smiled as she espied the dawning light in the archer’s gentling countenance. She rose, signalling the end of their audience. He followed suit.

She looked with compassionate eyes at the bemused Wood-elf. “I will be dispatching a message to Elrond tomorrow at first light,” she told him. “You may send your own to Elrohir if you wish.”

Legolas nodded and left the house. After dropping off his bow and quiver at the pavilion set aside for the Fellowship, he slowly made his way along the city’s paths and byways, both on the ground and among the treetops, not following any set course but simply allowing his feet to carry him where they might. And as he walked, he thought. And found his thoughts seemed clearer here than they could ever be in Mirkwood or Rivendell.

Far from the haunts he and Elrohir frequented and their too distracting memories, he could truly examine the singular relationship he shared with the Elf-knight. View it in its entirety and not only one facet or another alone.

Not that he had been afforded the chance earlier. In the fraught days before the Company left Rivendell, he had been too much in turmoil to think clearly. The sudden and all too brief reconciliation with Elrohir had only thrown his conflicted feelings into more confusion. And he had not had the luxury of time or quiet to consider anything beyond the exigencies of each perilous day on the Quest. But in the enchanted and soothing environs of Lothlórien, his mind and heart discovered enough tranquility to see not merely what he’d always expected or presumed but also what truly was.

Coming to the end of one wood-and-vine bridge, he glanced up and saw he had arrived beside a great mallorn, one of the tallest in the forest, at the top of which was a small talan with a simple shed perched upon it. Legolas guessed it was an old lookout point for it appeared not to be in use any longer. He climbed the narrow stairs and stepped onto the wooden platform. From here, he could see the endless sky. He sank down, folded his long legs before him and leaned back against one wall of the shed. And here he sat, lost in thought and memory, while the day passed him by, the morning giving way to the afternoon unnoticed, and night descended and the myriad stars twinkled in their heavenly moorings. And still he did not move until the stars began to fade and dawn began inching its rose-hued way across the firmament to herald a new day.

In that time, Legolas looked down the long road of his years with the Elf-knight. Of the stories of drawing his first breath literally from Elrohir. Of his childhood spent cradled, sung to, taught and regaled by the younger twin.

Of his unhappiness at their first long parting and the sharp yearning for Elrohir’s company. Of his rescue by the warrior on the plains between Anduin and Mirkwood and knowing once more the full strength of their bond.

Of coming-of-age with Elrohir at his side, beaming at him with pride and true affection. Of exhilarating days in the drill yard, fully mastering the battle-arts under the warrior’s exacting tutelage.

Of the night lying in his arms after knowing passion for the first time and such passion as he never knew again lest it was in Elrohir’s embrace. Of succoring him in turn when the Elf-knight had needed him and the disbelief and joy of reaping his yielding.

Of the long days and lonely nights when he did not bask in his lover’s affections.

He would ache then for Elrohir – his voice, his smile, his touch. He would tumble others to assuage his longing but the relief was only fleeting for while his body might be sated for a spell, his heart’s craving was not. They were not his incomparable Elf-knight.

Legolas drew a deep, shuddery breath. His Elf-knight. Sweet Eru, where had his wits flown that he had not recognized the truth long afore? He stared unseeingly at the slowly brightening sky for the longest while, filled with wonder at this belated realization of the true nature of the bond he shared with Elrohir. Trembling slightly from the impact of his epiphany, he rose to his feet, descended from the flet and hastened to the house of Celeborn’s head scribe, praying the Elf would not prove too testy at being roused at such an early hour.

He returned to the Lord and Lady’s house soon after, a scroll tightly clutched in his hand. As before, Galadriel came out to greet him.

He held out the scroll to her. “I would send this to him,” he quietly requested.

Galadriel smiled and took the letter from him. “Rest assured that he will receive it, ernil neth”—young prince—she answered.

Legolas nodded then gazed at her curiously. “Those warriors mentioned that he spoke of me to you, my lady,” he said diffidently.

Galadriel suddenly dimpled like a young maid in the first throes of love. “Aye, and with so much reverence and affection that he recalled to my lord and me our early days of courtship in Doriath!” she laughed. “He told us of your long friendship, of his realization that he had learned to hold you closer to his heart than he’d ever expected, of his hopes that you would return it and his belief that you did. Was he mistaken?” she softly asked.

Legolas laid glistening eyes on her. Regret mingled with cognition in the blued depths. “He was not mistaken,” he whispered. “Would that I had realized this before I left him.”

She eyed him keenly. “I warrant your heart has long sought to tell you of its yearning but you did not heed it though not out of willfulness. Simply that you did not recognize the changes in your feelings. I cannot fault you for not hearkening at once to its plea for Elrohir did not hear his either until but lately.” She raised a hand and cupped the archer’s cheek gently. “Be at peace, Prince of Mirkwood. Your Elf-knight will know your answer ere long.”

She waited for him to leave then returned to her bedchamber to retrieve her own message to Elrond. Her husband was seated on the couch fronting the hearth; he looked up as she entered. The gleam in his eyes told her he had heard everything.

Celeborn looked at his wife with fond amusement. “You do realize that letter will likely spur Elrohir into immediate action,” he mildly remarked.

Galadriel nestled in his waiting arms and giggled – only with her husband did she readily reveal this side of her. “As he is your grandson, that is indeed most likely,” she agreed, her eyes sparkling with almost girlish glee.

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

Glossary:

Ninúi – Sindarin for February

Caras Galadon – city of the Galadhrim

ellon – male Elf (pl. ellyn)

mallorn – a tree that grew exclusively in Lothlórien

To be continued…
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond