Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Barad-en-Elei (Fortress of Dreams)	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and no profit of any kind is earned by this story. Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
Epilogue - Part One: Thranduil

September 25, 3021, Third Age.

The sky was magnificent, a pale water-washed, powdery blue hued sky devoid of clouds, unmarred by haze or fog all the way to its touch-point with the faint, grey horizon, blending earth and air uncountable leagues away. It stretched in clear, unending purity, an expanse of space so high and wide it dominated the landscape even here where the restless sea filled the eyes and ears. Ever changing, it both mirrored and provoked the moods of the ocean, the two realms working in concert whether storms or fair days were generated. Today the sky ordained serenity and peace and quiet upon the deeps.

Unlike the firmament in any other place, the skies over Lindon imparted sweet remembrance and kindled a spark of nostalgic longing for days past, for the falas would always be home as only the place of one's childhood years could be. Elrond frowned. Here the heavens were unique and superlative, but their pristine beauty filled him with aching emptiness for into their azure expanse had fled Elwing with her Silmaril, that easier to bear away than the twin sons abandoned to heartless fate. How he hated them: this sandy shore and its endless ocean, this perfect sky, those vile stones. Had he not sworn never to come here again?

Aye, and how many times have I broken that promise?

Yet there were only four occurrences after all: once upon Elros' summons from Numenor, again after the Last Alliance when Gil-galad was lost, the worst of all when Celebrian sailed, and finally to combat the doom called down upon Elladan. For the most part he'd managed to avoid Lindon, sending Erestor to represent Imladris when Círdan demanded it.

And now it is my turn to go. Fitting that it should end here where all of it began.

He lifted his face to the heavens and wondered what he would say to his mother when he got to Aman. Would she even be there to greet him? Would his father? Had Gil-galad come forth from Mandos? Of all the many elves living in Valinor, Elrond could truly count on but one, for surely Celebrian would be there, watching and waiting for his ship. The breeze that touched his cheeks seemed to confirm this. But he would not sail today, not yet. He was not ready though such a sky, lit as it was with the warm light of dawn, was a good omen and promised fair weather. The ocean, too, presented a benign and favourable mood, coaxed by the caress of the softest of westerly winds into the gentlest ripples a rolling sea could generate. How could he trust them, this sky and this sea, these elements of the Valar that had stolen away so many he had loved and loved still? No, he would not sail today.

Elrond sighed, turning his gaze from the sky and the sea to view the cramped, over-built streets of Lindon. The city was much diminished in population now, almost the way he recalled it in his earliest memories, for Lindon and he had grown up together. Most of the Faladhrim had gone, taking most of the suffering with them, having fled when news of Sauron's Ring reached the seaside port. With every tide more departed, the Noldorin elves all but gone, the Sindarin folk vanished. Even some of the Avari were leaving. It was strange to see the place so still and quiet. As he watched, a tradesman leading a horse and cart came down the broad boulevard of Círdan's palace, little bells strung across the sides of the vehicle tinkling merrily, and every now and again the ellon sang out the value of his wares, hoping for a customer to appear. He was selling shellfish and crabs and shrimp but no one seemed to want the bounty of the sea this morn.

It would be a dazzling day, the sun bold and bright despite the turn of the seasons that had just occurred, Arien flaunting her power and giving the world a last taste of summer's glory before bending to the will of the Valar, retreating from Arda and permitting the winter months to come. He shivered, though cold was not a sensation he knew well. Indeed, long centuries had it been since he had known winter for Vilya kept the bitter elements in check. Or had done until now. He held out his hand and studied the Ring, worn there so long he could not imagine his fingers without it. He was not planning to keep it any longer though this thought he had kept locked in his heart, secret from everyone. Not even Galadriel could get at it, this idea of his, and he smiled, thinking that.

He moved across the elegant terrace of Círdan's mansion to its bounds, gripping the wrought iron rail that rimmed it, and stared across the endless expanse of the billowing sea. The waters heaved and riffled, undulating in jade green dimples that built into curling waves that raced for shore, toppling in a noisy, complaining crescendo of white froth onto the sand. He had always loved the sound of the surf and missed that constant reminder of his Adar more than anything else. Truth be known, that was the only thing he could recall of his father, the sight of him shoving a longboat into the waves, leaping into it and turning to wave before rowing away to the fair ship anchored in the bay. Even after Ages of time, he sometimes woke from reverie with the sonorous surge filling his ears and the scent of salt in his nostrils. That the tug and tumble of the rumbling tide was the only aspect of the coastal realm for which he pined was a sad, forlorn testament to the strife plaguing even the earliest days of his life. Usually, such an experience brought Elros to mind, yet of late it was Elladan he encountered in those infrequent mirages.

Elladan…

Elrond's grip on the rail tightened. It was so hard to think of him, so hard not to. He was about to turn away from the view when movement down below caught his notice. An elf exited the lower courtyard to stroll along the beach, long mane of yellow hair dancing in the wind and all but obscuring his features, yet the Lord of Imladris had no trouble identifying that this was Legolas, the woodland archer he'd chosen for the Fellowship. He was here to see his eldest brother off to Aman, an unwise idea, considered the famed healer, for sea-longing had Legolas securely in its relentless grip and threatened to rend his very soul, for he refused to go to Eldamar.

Elrond cast his eyes over him, finding it hurt his soul to look upon Legolas thus, lacking his ever-present bow and quiver, dressed neither for travel nor for formal gatherings, barefoot, hair flying free, all his normal expressions, those masks he donned for the mood of the moment, guises of cool courtesy, polite interest, stern yet respectful dissent, or inscrutable menace, all of that discarded. He was raw, naked agony, bested and bewildered by this unknown foe he could not combat, as lost an elf as any Elrond had ever witnessed staring at the sea.

For all that it was a sight to stir his compassion and inspire empathy, Elrond could not suppress a small note of resentment from colouring his view of Thranduil's youngest son. But for him, mayhap none of the rest would ever have come to pass, and yet the Wood Elf had absolutely no concept of the part he'd played.

It was the conflict in Greenwood that year, the year 425 of the Third Age, that changed everything. Had anyone told him a minor uprising in the blighted forest could so affect the course of his life, Elrond would have laughed outright. Yet the disturbance was serious and verged on civil war as the sylvan folk rebelled and made an effort to overthrow their King and expel Thranduil along with his Sindarin subjects. It had not come to violence yet when the Elven King begged Imladris for help. Of course the Lord of the Vale sent Erestor, the very best, the wisest and most trusted councillor in elvendom, which meant he would not be able to attend Círdan's Council. With his kinsman's spot open and contention between his sons escalating, Elrond had the bright idea of letting Elladan replace Erestor.

Had I but thought on it a little longer, surely I would have foreseen the possibilities and prevented their realisation. Too late now for such wishes and might-have-beens.

As for the seneschal, he had done his duty well despite his internal concerns over the chosen substitute. The Woodland Realm was returned to harmony, a new sylvan wife at Thranduil's side cementing the unity of the two races. Even so it had not been easy for either of them,Thranduil having no wish for a second wife to replace the one he loved and lost; the Nandorin lady finding no honour in the loveless marriage bed. Endure it she was compelled to do for a child sprung from both lineages was required to seal the accord forever more.

Efforts to fulfil that mandate failed many times over, the babes miscarried early or stillborn at term, and the new queen weakened with grief at each loss. Elrond had gone once himself, her health so frail no other could aid her. He decided she was the bravest elf he had ever encountered and secretly used Vilya to heal her; secretly for her people would never condone it, fearing the power of the Ring of Air. Yet he was determined she would live, eager to see a child born of such sturdy bloodlines. Recovery was slow but Thranduil showed himself gallant, strong of heart, and compassionate in his efforts to assuage the Lady's pain. He nurtured her as he would a true mate and she responded, as did her people. The silvan folk came to love their King as they had never done his Adar. Even so, nearly two thousand years fled into obscurity before an elfling was at last born, the only product of the union for the sylvan queen died in delivery. He was not the King's heir, an elder son by the first wife held that title, but he became his father's favourite and Greenwood's very glue.

There stands the result of that union, mesmerised by the sea, torn by his promise to Estel.

Elrond frowned and breathed a disconsolate sigh. No, it was nothing to do with Legolas, this unholy mess in which Elladan was enmeshed. In his heart of hearts he believed himself the principal culprit for all that transpired, for he had refused to confront his anger and aguish over Elladan's nature; refused to revisit his ambivalence toward Elros; denied his fury over Maglor's betrayal. He could have sent Enerdhil alone to Lindon and counselled Elladan openly. Yet perhaps that was arrogance, for who was he to believe he could manipulate events? Like all the others, he was only a dupe, a cat's paw. None could divine the dealings of the Powers. An elf was required to join the Fellowship and so Legolas must be born. Maglor was fated to restore the Silmarili and so he must be saved. Elladan was doomed to salvage him and so must be sacrificed. All of them were linked by the history created that year, though none of them knew it.

"He will not go over sea and he will not come home to me."

The voice was unexpected and Elrond whirled around to find Thranduil at his shoulder, that gift for sneaking so legendary among Wood Elves having served to hide his approach. The monarch acknowledged the minor coup with a faint and sheepish bow of his head, yet kept his haunted and sorrowful eyes on the Elven Lord. Elrond readied himself for the expected tirade, for surely Thranduil must fault him for his son's suffering. Had Elrond not sent Legolas on this quest? But for that the archer might never have encountered the sea. No voluble, accusing words arose from Thranduil's misery, however, and the distraught father instead looked near to tears.

"Can you help him?"

Elrond was stunned and ashamed at the same time, but there was nothing he could do in such a case. "No," he said simply, gently, contritely. "There is only one remedy and he refuses it."

"Aye," the King nodded, his mouth set and grim, eyes sharp with grief and yet mellow with love where they rested on the still, silent figure poised upon the strand.

"You will stay?" asked Elrond, curious, for he knew already that Celeborn chose to remain also. This desire of the Sindarin Kings (for so he considered Celeborn) to remedy all the ills afflicting Lorien and Greenwood before they left was incomprehensible. The world was for Men now and it was doubtful they would hold the same appreciation for the life of green things. Thranduil and Celeborn were saving the trees only to turn them over to those who would ultimately destroy them.

"Yes, at least until he sails. I hope to be some comfort to him, though he insists on colonising Ithilien. He will be so far from me, from his forest."

"But near to Estel and I think he needs that proximity to make this vow possible. I am sorry he spoke it. He was too young; I should not have sent him." Elrond found himself apologising and saw the surprise this wrought on the Elven King's features. He smiled, then, and reached for Thranduil, settling a hand firmly on his shoulder. "Mellon vrûn, will you do a kindness for me?"

"A kindness? Aye, you need but name it, Elrond." Thranduil was flustered and awkwardly set his hand upon the Elven Lord's shoulder in turn, his smile anxious but open.

"Invite my son and his mate to the forest for Summer Solstice next year," Elrond pleaded. "That place, that island, those stones. It is dreary and they are lonely. Lindon will be all but deserted by then; Lorien emptied, Imladris much diminished. I would have them know fellowship among their own for as long as possible. Once you and Celeborn leave…"

Elrond let the thought hang, finding he had no wish to speak the words aloud. No one knew how long it would be before the Last Battle and the remaking of Arda commenced. Elladan and Maglor might have to wait and watch a very long time, alone, the last of their kind in all the world. He shivered again and would have withdrawn but Thranduil switched his hold, covering the hand upon his shoulder and gripping tight. Again Elrond braced for a virulent outburst, for what he asked was no light task, given the gruesome history which linked the Teleri and the Noldor.

"You cannot speak his name, even now," murmured Thranduil in quiet sympathy, a light shake of the head underscoring his remark. "I am not my father, intractable and unforgiving. Maglor and Elladan are welcome in my home; I would be pleased to host them in Greenwood for the Solstice." Seeing the open surprise on Elrond's face, he had to chuckle and gave the mighty Lord's shoulder a consoling slap. "All right, mayhap I am like my father, but even Oropher set aside his objections and joined the cause of Gil-galad at Morranon."

"Aye, a noble sacrifice and one never to be forgotten," smiled Elrond, his gratitude filling his heart so high that tears squeezed perilously close to escaping. "I thank you, mellon."

"You are most welcome. Yet I believed Elrohir and Echuil'laer would remain, abiding at Imladris. Has this changed?"

"It has not changed." Elrond's voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "I know not how to tell Celebrian when I reach her. She will blame me for it. All three of her children left behind. Ai! No mother should have to endure that, especially after all she has already borne."

"Nay, she should not, yet it is not your doing. Not even Lord Elrond can turn aside the will of Eru. She will grieve but you will be there to help her, and there are many grandchildren and great-grandchildren sailing over with you, yes?" Thranduil offered this encouragement, realising how inadequate it was, yet there was nothing more to say. Grief was their lot, the two of them witnessing the pain their loved ones suffered, unable to do anything about it.

"Aye, many indeed," Elrond smiled, grateful for that, and turned back to gaze upon the solitary archer, who had started to sing.The sound was beautiful but the words and the tune were filled with edgy disharmony. He was about to suggest they go down and bring him away from the beach when another figure entered their field of view.

He was an elven warrior, tall and broad with hair the colour of copper worn loose save for a thin mithril band about his brow. He was not dressed for war now but instead his garb was more that of a Lord bound for a hunt with horses and hounds, practical yet elegant and becoming. He approached and joined the song, or rather he sang over it, his voice full and melodic, the lyrics bright and somewhat risqué. He startled Legolas, something that should have been impossible, who fell silent and watched with mouth agape as the warrior cavorted around him in a silly, skipping sort of step.

"Gilfaen, what is this nonsense?" Legolas' voice drifted up to the unseen watchers.

"I am here to take you riding. Arod awaits."

"I have no wish to go forth. My heart is heavy and only…."

"Yes you do," Gilfaen cut him off. "You just haven't realised it yet. Come along."

"Stop this. Your intentions are quite transparent. I prefer someone older, Gilfaen."

"I am younger than you by just twenty-five years."

"Exactly. Too young."

"I will take you riding and prove you wrong."

"How is going riding with you going to do that?" A short pause ensued and then Legolas gave forth a forced and awkward laugh. "Oh. That kind of riding."

"Clever archer, I knew you'd figure things out, though you are so youthful and innocent. Come along." Gilfaen took hold of Legolas' arm and threaded it through his, securing the connection with his other hand, and tugged the Wood Elf into step.

But for a last hesitant backward glance at the surging tide, Legolas permitted himself to be escorted down the strand a pace or two. His compliance was rewarded with a kiss to the cheek and a cheeky smile when he glared at his abductor.

"I am not so young, twenty-five years older than you, remember."

"I apologise, peniaur (ancient one). No doubt you are not so innocent, either." Silence met this rejoinder and if a person could project flustered embarrassment Legolas was a beacon blazing with that emotion, the air suffused with his discomfort so that even Elrond and Thranduil could sense it. "So you are untouched!"

"What if I am?" Legolas balked and shook free, confronting his unexpected suitor, face flushed and eyes very bright. "I am waiting for the right person. How can that be you? I don't even know you."

"Of course you know me, Legolas. I am Gilfaen, the one who loves you, the one who will never leave your side. I am your mate." Serious now, his tone was soft and gentle. A tremor ran over the Wood Elf and abruptly Gilfaen whisked off his cloak and threw it over Legolas' shoulders, clasping it shut, gathering up the errant strands of the wild, golden mane and tucking them behind the sylvan's long-tipped ears. "Better?" he asked and drew Legolas close, kissing him properly. His efforts were not rejected. Instead, he was kissed back with sudden vehemence and came away smiling. In the safety of this loose embrace, they regarded one another until at last Legolas sighed, dropping his gaze, head turning again to the sea.

"It will not get any better," he said. "Most likely, it will only get worse. You deserve…"

"Nothing," Gilfaen interrupted him. "Love is neither a right nor a guarantee nor a reward to be earned. It is a gift, the very greatest, most exalted of gifts. Should I be so fortunate as to receive it from you, ever would I cherish it, fully and fervently, and return it a thousand fold. Not even the sea can tear this love from my heart, Legolas, or from yours, should you choose to accept it."

"Ai, Gilfaen." Legolas' attention focused on the warrior, the ocean forgotten.

"Was that a yes?" the ellon said, his cheeky insolence returned though beneath the coquettish query eager intensity made itself known.

There was a long pause before any answer came, a pause in which Legolas studied the elf before him. Deadly hands tentatively tested the resilience of broad shoulders and felt for the racing pulse beneath the warrior's breast. Vision went wandering within the ardent fire of Gilfaen's cool, green eyes and Legolas' soul followed right along. He inched closer and tasted Gilfaen again, inhaled his scent, nuzzled his coppery hair. At last a faint smile overprinted the lines of tension and turmoil drawn by the sea.

"Yes," he said.

"Good! Let us be going then." Gilfaen's grin was exuberant and his aura expanded in brilliant radiance until it rivalled the sun and engulfed Legolas. He secured his love's arm anew and this time there was no delay in their departure.
"That sounded permanent to me. One of yours, I believe?" Thranduil asked, his words replete with both mirth and relief. "He spotted Legolas at the coronation and has hardly left his side since."

"One of Elrohir's grandchildren so, yes, one of mine, too," admitted Elrond, rejoicing in the King's gladness. "You have no objections?"

"Nay," Thranduil shrugged. "Gilfaen is a fitting companion for Legolas. He is merry of temperament, strong and fit, loves all of nature, and he is an elf."

"As opposed to being, say, a dwarf?" smirked Elrond, folding his arms over his chest and surveying Thranduil closely. "You didn't really think your son would take Gimli for his lover?"

"How should I know?" Thranduil complained. "They are very close and Legolas has been through a lot. Anything is possible."

"So Gilfaen may have a rival? I should warn him not to escort Legolas unarmed. I hear the dwarf never leaves his axe behind."

"Bah! I was but jesting. Gimli is the one who showed me the possibility inherent in Gilfaen's interest and so we both have been encouraging him. He will be a great comfort to Legolas." Thranduil paused and gauged the Elven Lord's mood. "What of you? Do you find the match objectionable?"

"Ah." Elrond nodded, not surprised to hear this concern. "I see my flaws are well known abroad, even those I have worked so diligently to correct. Nay, Thranduil, I have no objections. First, I have had ample years to overcome that sort of disapproval. I no longer deem a same-sex bond abhorrent. Second, I cannot control Gilfaen anymore than I can Elrohir. He must do as his heart tells him. Third, and most important, Legolas is a worthy elf, deserving of love as much as any other or Eru's children, and someone I will be glad to count among my kin-by-law."

"Well said," approved Thranduil, smiling. "Now I beg you will excuse me. I must find my eldest and see how he fares. His loss consumes him and I do not like him to be alone." At Elrond's nod he turned to go, pausing as he reached the doors. "Do not stay out here brooding too long, mellon vrûn."

Elrond turned and arched a brow in censure but he was smiling nonetheless, glad there were no misgivings between them. He retreated from the rail and took a seat amid the many comfortable lounges scattered about the deck, settling in and wondering if he really was brooding. There was much to consider and sort out in his thoughts. Was that wrong? He needed to know there was nothing left undone, nothing he should have seen to that he'd let slip at the last moment. Besides, he needed to be content and at peace with it all before he left these shores. With a sigh he closed his eyes and cast his mind back more than 2,500 years.

Epilogue - Part Two: Echuil'laer

Imladris, Year 425 of the Third Age

"I'm going with you."

Echuil'laer stood before Elrond, expression implacable, mouth set in stubborn defiance, eyes bright with fear and courage, heart aggrieved with imagined horrors yet resolute with hope. She was already dressed for the road wearing the most durable garb she owned: a suede leather travelling habit, hooded cloak, and high sturdy boots. At her waist was belted a long hunting knife and if it looked incongruous on her slight and elegant form, such deceptions were not the sort to which Lord Elrond would pay heed. There was more to the Lady than Elrohir perhaps realised and in spite of himself the harried father smiled.

"I welcome the company, though I warn you, Elrohir has most likely set us a false trail. We may be several days unravelling his true direction." Elrond cautioned his future law-daughter, thinking what a remarkable addition she was to his family and sharing that in a glance with Celebrian.

"I expect so, yet Elrohir is more predictable than he would like to believe," she answered, "at least, to me."

Elrond did not doubt that a bit. Raised in Lothlorien, Elrohir's Sindarin bride was a superb tracker. He bent to his wife and shared a quick embrace, entrusting to her the note Echuil'laer had only minutes before brought to them.

Addressed to her, the frantic messenger carrying it had been agog with wonder to find himself in Imladris facing so fair a being, and chagrined to be the bearer of what must surely be ill news. In histrionic tones and exaggerated gestures he relayed the tale of Elrohir's ride from the Rhudaur Gate. Echuil'laer had thanked him, paid him, dressed, packed, and ordered her horse saddled and provisioned for the chase. Only then did she present herself and Elrohir's ominous missive to the Lord and Lady of the Valley. No discussion had been needed for the three of them to concur that the reason for Elrohir's precipitate behaviour could only be his brother.

Waiting for Elrond to make ready caused Echuil'laer more impatience than she liked to feel and she found herself pacing in front of Celebrian.
"Do not fault Elrohir too much; the bond with Elladan is not something from which he could turn," said Celebrian, watching her law-daughter's agitated motion. "I am certain he lost every thought except to find him."

"Aye," Echuil'laer smiled in bittersweet agreement. "I tried to make him mend things, fearing some ill fate would befall Elladan. Elrohir did not believe me. He was so very angry." There she stopped, knowing the official stance of the Lord and Lady regarding Elladan's particular disposition yet wondering what the fair daughter of Galadriel really thought.

"I never met Elros," said Celebrian softly, shrewd eyes gauging her son's beloved, "but Elrond tells me he and Elladan share many qualities of character in kind. Elros and my husband had a similar falling out."

"And did they heal that breach, my Lady?"

"They did, though it was long centuries of time before either one would bend. Elros - Tar Minyatur finally sent for Elrond. The reunion was not without pain yet joy overwhelmed the sorrow. My husband still regrets not acting sooner, for to see his twin so changed, faded and marked by his mortality, already a great-grandfather many times over, was hard. It haunts him still. All this happened long before I met him and Elrond faced that tragedy alone. I am thus grateful for the summons that called my son from your side, dreadful though the deeds preceding it must be, for Elrohir has you to support him through the grief he will suffer."

"That is what you believe? That Elladan has chosen Elros' fate, notwithstanding the report we had to the contrary?"

"Nay, I know Elladan remains among the First-born. It is to Elros' other doom I allude."

They shared a strained moment of understanding, Celebrian veneering her obvious shame with the pride of her lineage and the might of her position, yet the ugly wound of a mother's betrayed heart pulsed with the pain her son's nature inflicted. Echuil'laer had her answer and found her own heart overwhelmed with sympathy for Elladan. She had no words she wished to say to her mate's naneth, desiring peace rather than conflict at such a time, yet censure was in her eyes and Celebrian could not fail to perceive it. The noble Lady declined to react beyond a swift flush of crimson that advanced and retreated across her pale cheeks and the two exchanged nothing more than meaningless, reassuring small talk thereafter, promising each other the emergency could not be too serious else Elrohir would have taken his warriors with him.

Elrond caught the tail end of that as he strode into the study, noted the antipathy between them, favoured each with wary scrutiny, and wisely decided to stay out of it. The idea occurred to him that two Ladies from the fabled land of Lorien, raised amid the golden glow of the region's potent magic, might both be imbued with a variety of insight and wisdom that was more than one ellon could contend with alone and hope to prevail. He chose to respond to the larger conflict and agreed with the hopeful falsehood, deciding to enlist Gildor Inglorion's aid only. All three knew the real reason for this was to spare the family from gossip sure to arise should the rank and file observe the events about to unfold. Elrond escorted his nascent law-daughter out, collected his worthy Master-at-Arms, and the trio crossed the ford less than an hour later, yet already three days had passed since the letter was penned.

Just west of Rhudaur, Echuil'laer's keen eyes spied Nirmë's tracks where they suddenly diverged from the main road, heading off toward Carn Dûm. Now the three hunters were divided, Echuil'laer insisting they continue on to Annuminas, Elrond and Gildor convinced Elladan had lied about going there and instead had gone orc hunting alone.

"It is Elladan's way," posited Gildor. "When troubled he turns to the sword to work out his distress. 'A solution that serves many' he likes to say. He has run into difficulty near the old dwarven fortress, a known haven for evil."

"No, he would not enlist King Arantar's aid and bid him lie if that were true," insisted Echuil'laer. "If he meant to spend his turmoil in killing he would have taken his warriors and sent word to that effect. The subterfuge points to something unexpected, something serious and secret. Go to Carn Dûm if you will; I will go to Annúminas and extract the truth from Arantar." She would not be budged and in the end Elrond agreed to accompany her while Gildor took the northern track.

It had taken Elrohir ten days of hard riding to reach his brother; it would take his father and fiancee twelve. The two had ample time to talk and the subject was frequently the twins. Echuil'laer was treated to numerous anecdotes of the twins' young years and Elrond subtly revealed his regrets for having been so stern on occasion. Gradually the wily Sindarin maid ventured into the painful territory of the brothers' broken bond. Never would Echuil'laer have thought to broach this topic before, yet now it seemed imperative. Every instinct she possessed advised that this was the root of the trouble and she knew from Elrohir how little their Adar liked to discuss anything to do with his own loss so long ago. Yet he must have much he could bring to bear upon the subject, if only she could convince him to open that long sealed door and examine the ancient history locked away behind it. While resting the horses on the fifth day, she bolstered her courage and decided it was now or never.

"You know what this is about?" she asked, settling on the lush turf at Elrond's feet where he sat upon a fallen log. A cool stream wandered by and a copse of woods offered welcome shade.

"The note?" Elrond gazed at her intelligent, thoughtful face and smiled. What use was there to pretend? "Aye. Elladan and Elrohir fought after his announcement of the pending nuptials. Whatever Elladan said made you and Elrohir leave Lothlorien and return home. It must have been serious; I've never seen Elrohir so furious."

"Yes, quite serious," she paused and evaluated the face before her, inscrutable and closed. He must know. "Hîren, I cannot believe you do not guess the cause. Elladan could not face losing Elrohir to another and in jealousy and desperation he sought to secure his brother to him more completely. He has always depended on my beloved, expecting they would remain as they have been for so long: alone but together. Elladan's love for his brother is all-encompassing, Hîren, yet Elrohir did not understand this. He was deeply offended, though only through love was the offer made, frantic and anguished and frightened but love still the same."

"Echuil'laer," Elrond stared at her, his heart aching already from what he knew she was trying to say. "What…all-encompassing? As in Elladan offered himself to his brother?" The stricken father was on his feet in a flash, not even realising he was striding away, shaking his head in denial. "No."

"You know of this, you must; they are your sons," she insisted, rising and following him. "Can you truly say you never suspected Elladan's needs differ from his brother's? It is your stringent moral code that has hindered Elladan. He thought there was no one else he could trust, no one else who could love him enough to give him what he wants and needs. And he was frightened."

"That is outrageous!" Elrond turned, pointing at her in absolute fury, the facade of calm detachment irrevocably slipped. "How dare you attempt to place blame upon me? I have done all in my power to prevent this, to preserve my sons from this curse. I do not believe it. Did Elrohir tell you this?"

"He did not need to; it wasn't hard to figure out." Echuil'laer endured the angry blast ably, determined to break through and force the elder elf's comprehension. "Elrohir confirmed that his brother preferred males soon after we recognised the love growing between us, yet when I was introduced as Elrohir's betrothed, one look at Elladan's despairing eyes was enough. It is obvious to almost everyone in Imladris and Lothlorien. It is common knowledge and he is both pitied and scorned. Can you imagine how that feels, to be condemned for something so basic to his character? He has been so alone, Hîren, can you not understand? It was bearable, knowing he could never have a mate, as long as he had Elrohir."

"He could have a mate. Many maids are both eligible and willing," argued Elrond, turning from her, face pale and lips curled in a dark scowl. "This conversation is completely inappropriate."

"Nay, it is not. I am part of this family now; Elladan is my brother." Echuil'laer moved to confront him face to face. "I will not stand by and see my new family ripped apart for so trivial a cause. You can end it. Accept Elladan and help him, Hîren. You must let him know you would welcome anyone who holds his heart, no matter their sex."

"Elladan is not…he would never disgrace our House. It cannot be so." Elrond stumbled through these rambling denials, staggered by her bold declaration of fealty and her bolder entreaty. "Valar! Just like Elros in every way!" There was no compassion in his voice, only venom and hurt and sorrow as he clutched at his hair and strode away through the grass. Unbidden, his mind dragged forth a face and form he could not bear to imagine, not of his brother but of the guardian to whom he was once so devoted. It was not something he could examine and a raw shout drove it away.

"Ai! I wondered what prompted your uncompromising views." Echuil'laer nodded, watching the volatile emotions propel the Elven Lord across the stream and into the meadow. She did not follow, certain her next words would draw him as quickly back. "Your brother had the same desire. I could not understand why you scorned same-sex bonding so much that you made it punishable under the laws of your realm. You condemned Elladan to loneliness and frustration and dependence upon his brother."

"What say you? Dependence…did they?" Elrond returned to peer into her perceptive eyes yet could not bring himself to speak the words.

"Nay, you have not been listening well. Elrohir was not aware of how much Elladan had come to regard him as a surrogate mate. He was shocked and disgusted and disowned Elladan on the spot. Can you imagine what that did to Elladan's soul? I feared for him and took Elrohir to task for his harsh reaction but, like you, Elrohir was unwilling to bend at first. By the time I made him see reason, Elladan had already been sent to Lindon."

"And now whatever has happened involves this 'dependence' of Elladan's?" Elrond could only gape at her, wondering over her insight and her courage. Few were the elves who would dare challenge him thus; few were the elves who evinced enough concern for his House to do so and he was not ungrateful for it, no matter how hard it was to hear.

"It involves his heart, surely, for what else would prompt Elrohir to leave without telling you, or anyone else, what has happened or where he is going? I fear Elladan has again offered up his heart and this time it has been broken utterly."

"Broken? Elladan?" Elrond felt his world spinning backwards, the memories he could not bear to acknowledge forcing their way into his awareness.

He'd caught Elros one morning pleasuring himself, flaunting his naked body and the delights it granted him, doing this almost in public right in the main study where their lessons were conducted and certainly within sight and hearing of their kindly keeper turned foster-father, whose private office was next door. Elrond had spied Maglor darting away from the half-open door between the two rooms and immediately upbraided his brother.

'How can you show yourself to him like this? He is our foster-father!'

'And thus not our father, nor more than a distant cousin; there is no wrong in it and he wants me. He is terribly lonely and now that I am almost grown he thinks of me differently. Admit it, you are jealous it is not you he desires.'

'I deny it! I've no wish for a male lover nor have you, not really. I have seen you excited over a pretty elleth many times.'

'Why must I be exclusive, male or female? There is beauty and merit in both sexes.'

They argued the point and all the while Elros never ceased playing with himself. Elrond thus accused him of all manner of low, incestuous hungers. That prompted Elros to seduce him, eagerly presenting his arousal for his brother to fondle and savour, offering to do the same and more in return. Shocked before, Elrond was both angry and frightened now, rebuffing his brother severely, to which censure Elros had ready answers.

'How can this be wrong? Who in all Arda loves me more than you? Who in all this wide world adores you as I do, Muindor?'

Horrified, Elrond had left the fortress that day and taken up residence with Círdan in Lindon, never to return to Himling.

"Nay! It cannot be!" he ground the words through clenched jaws, verily clawing at his hair in his distress. The vision arose with all the depth and vibrance of reality, the kind of internal picture that generally heralded foresight and prescience, and the naked elf cavorting with Maglor was not his brother. Elrond gave a despairing groan and sank to his knees, eyes shut, hands clapped over them to block the scene, whispering his son's name over and over.

"Lord Elrond? Saes, answer!" Echuil'laer was shaking him and came just short of striking him a resounding blow when the lore-master's eyes returned to the present and met hers, great anguish within them. He scrambled to his feet and gripped her at the biceps, squeezing so hard that she flinched.

"You're saying this is my fault," he hissed and shook her. "I am not the one responsible! I am not the one who tried to lure my brother into a forbidden bond. It was Elros, not I!"

"Hîren, no one is blaming you," the Lady cried and stamped on his foot to cringe him back to reason and make him let go.
He did, flushing scarlet to realise he had laid hands on her in the violence of his misery. "I pray you may forgive me," he said softly, bowing and refusing to meet her gaze.

"Of course I do," she sighed, "as you must forgive your brother. And your son. Neither acted with the hope to hurt you. Can you not see it?"

Elrond had his doubts about his brother's motives, but she could not understand for she had not been there and he saw no reason to scandalise her with such ugly scenes. Yet she was correct regarding Elladan. He had known, always, what desires awoke in Elladan. He and Celebrian had discussed it, she concerned over the ban and whether he could abide by it, he convinced the ban would be the safeguard Elladan required to keep his indecent urges in check. He wanted no repeat of the fate that befell Elros.

"Now I see; it was not what he desired but whom, the person and not merely the person's sex. Yet he has chosen; Enerdhil's report and Arantar's letter of congratulations confirms that," he spoke aloud, forgetting his wandering thoughts had not been vocal. In the bitterness of his heart he cursed Maglor. "First my brother and now my son, what manner of crime darkens our past for this obscene history to repeat?"

"I do not understand you; what has happened to Elladan is not a punishment upon your House," Echuil'laer argued, rubbing her arms where they still stung a bit.

"No? Does it not seem so to you? What other conclusion can one derive from the facts?"

"We do not yet know the facts," she reminded patiently. "Only one truth do we hold for certain. You will not lose him as you did Elros, though he may need to go over sea. Most of all, he will need your love and support. I beg you, set aside these narrow views and ancient hurts, for Elladan's sake."

He stared at her, aghast. Could she really believe such a thing would turn him against his own? "I love my sons, no matter their faults or failings. If I have erred it is through devotion not dispassionate indifference." Elrond stalked back toward the grazing horses, calling for his mount.

Echuil'laer sighed, more than a mite disturbed and confused by her law-father's rambling tirade. She judged he was somehow equating past and present but could not discern the connection. Still, he had at least owned up to the real issue. More than this she did not think possible at the moment, and contented herself that she had started him thinking. Hopefully, by the time they reached Annúminas, Elrond would be prepared for whatever they found.

At Nenuial Arantar gave up the letter he'd saved without resistance, deeming the situation dire for Elrond to come in person. Of Elrohir he had no news but agreed with Lady Echuil'laer that he must have gone straight to Himling Cove. There was no point in suggesting the elves wait and Arantar was not comfortable under his foster-father's baleful gaze. It was plain enough Elrond considered his part in the deception just a hair shy of treason and betrayal. Truly, if ill had befallen his muindor iaur, Arantar would not soon forgive himself. He supplied them with fresh horses and provisions and saw them off, silently praying for Elladan to survive whatever awful doom had ensnared him.

The determined hunters were silent as they left the fair lands of Arnor. Elrond could not prevent his son's written words from ringing though his thoughts. Echuil'laer had seen the truth so quickly and the rueful father could no longer ignore the impact of his severe code upon Elladan. Even more, it was evident Elladan had perceived beyond the false impression of his Adar's ignorance, sensing Elrond's comprehension and condemnation in every stern look and reproving correction. Had he been harder on Elladan, more demanding, less compassionate?

'At home I am redundant…'

'…'fills me with pride to know I can be of such import…'

'…I will not embarrass myself and my parents…'

What kind of father did these words reveal? In shame he owned his failings; all this time, from Elladan's adolescence onward, Elrond had been punishing him in advance for what he might do in future. Worse, I've punished him for Elros' sins. Abruptly he reigned back, reaching for Echuil'laer's horse as he did and both halted on the road. He gazed at her with something too much like doom in his eyes for her comfort.

"What is it?" she asked gently, suspecting the effect of the letter.

"I find I owe you a great debt," he said quietly. "If not for your courage to confront my arrogance and denial, my heart might still be closed to Elladan's plight. I thank you, Echuil'laer, and celebrate so worthy an addition to our House."

"You honour me, Hîren," she smiled, pleased to note this breakthrough while worried over his continuing gloom.

"Call me by name," he said, "for now we will speak of what has come to pass and I would have your advise."

"Gladly, Hîre…Elrond." Echuil'laer did as bid, no matter how awkward it felt to address the august legend so informally. She met his melancholy smile with a brighter one of her own in hopes of alleviating his sombre mood. He dismounted and she did likewise, following as he strolled to the rise of the sharp promontory overlooking Imrath Lhûn.

"The letter gave me all I needed to solve this riddle, and the answer is grave, perhaps fatal for my son if we do not get him free and send him over the oceans."

"Nay!"

"Aye, for little hope do I have of ending this nightmare favourably."

"What did the letter say? I cannot believe Arantar would hide from you something so dire," Echuil'laer insisted.

"He does not comprehend what has happened. I perceive it because it involves my family's history. Arantar has never learned this tale, for I held it secret in my heart from all but my wife. What I will tell you now is our greatest shame."

"Ai, Hîr Elrond!"

"You were not told because my sons were not told. Elrohir would not have kept this from you had he any inkling of the truth."

"You frighten me!" she gasped. "Please, say what you must; I can bear the reality better than my imaginings." Really, she knew not what to expect and felt her heart pounding with dread, for never had she seen the mighty lore-master so fatalistic, so hopeless.

"Of the kin-slaying at Sirion you know," he began, turning from her and slowly pacing along the cliff. "After it was done, my brother and were taken hostage by Maedhros and Maglor, Ernil'orn and Lanc Vallen (the Valourous Prince and the Golden Throat)." His words dripped with scorn underlain by dark hatred. "Despite all reason, we came to depend upon them and loved them," he paused and turned sharply to her, a fearsome grin masking his fine features as a harsh bark of laughter erupted from his throat. "Loved them! Can you imagine such a perversion? The very elves who would murder our parents, who had murdered already so many we counted as family, these vile people we came to honour as we would our own Adar."

"You were but children," the fair maid protested. "Children need to be loved and if you found warmth in your hearts for these kin-slayers, then they must have showed compassion and love first."

"Aye," he nodded. "True enough. Maglor and his son were especially kind, their feelings genuine. Maedhros' emotions were guarded and he remained aloof for the most part, stern and demanding as if he could not permit himself to harbour gentle sentiments for the sons of those who had defied his claim upon the gems."

"That is a pity; he denied himself what might have been a saving mercy. Yet this is known to all, Elrond," she said, coming and laying a hand upon his arm, "and reveals nothing of Elladan's plight."

"It does, for while most believe the Feänorionath dead long Ages past, one of them still lives."

"What?"

"Aye, it is Maglor. He it is who has ensnared Elladan's heart; I know it as surely as if that letter proclaimed it in the boldest script possible."

"Nay, I see it not," Echuil'laer disagreed, unwilling to accept this theory. "How can you surmise this end from so few words?"

"Elladan is not in Lindon, is he? Neither is he at Annúminas; indeed, he revealed to Arantar he 'remains in the shadow of Ered Lhuin' and there is nothing there but a small colony of Avarin elves. That and Maedhros' old stronghold on the island of Himling. There my son is and he would only be there for one reason. Somehow Maglor found him and entrapped his heart. Indeed, my memories spawned a prophesy. I saw them together."

"Oh, Hîren!" breathed Echuil'laer, unable to come up with anything at all to counter this explanation, save one thing and to that she eagerly gave voice. "Mayhap it is one among those sylvans who has won your son's heart and not this Noldorin Prince, this Lanc Vallen."

"Nay, I feel no need to foster foolish hopes like that. He was in Maglor's arms; there is no mistaking the Noldorin minstrel. Once you have seen him, you will never be able to forget him either. That is why I have stopped here and taken you into my confidence. What am I to do, Echuil'laer? How can I get him from there without soiling my hands with the blood of that kin-slayer, for dearly do I wish to slit his golden throat and watch Maglor's life drain away."
Elrond spoke so calmly he might have been discussing any common little problem that at times arose amid the citizens of his valley. This more than the brutal imagery of the words distressed Echuil'laer and she paled, seeing now the responsibility cast upon her. The great lord meant for her to convince him of some other course ere they came to the place and confronted the lovers. She drew breath and shook her head, tightening her grip on his wrist.

"Elrond, there is one important truth that will stay your hand, no matter how overpowering your desire for vengeance. If it is so that Elladan loves this ancient menace, you cannot murder him for to do so would drive out the love your elder son holds for you. He would not forgive this. Further, you must ask yourself how it is his heart opened to someone with so dark a history. Elladan is not a child and neither is he naive. There must be some good, some worthy aspect housed in the Noldorin Prince that drew him."

"Alas!" Elrond smiled at her kindly and traced his fingers over her pale cheek, meeting her forthright gaze with sorrow. "It is my own fault, my own harsh and unrelenting bigotry that drove Elladan into Maglor's arms. You said it yourself; my son had all but given up hope of having a soul-mate and departed Imladris in great despair and internal agony, divided even from his twin. He was easy prey for the old seducer!" he finished bitterly, anger rising up as he pulled free and stalked along the cliff, wind whipping his long black hair about him.

"Nay, nay!" Echuil'laer followed. "There is more to Elladan than that. He was grieving, true, but he would not commit his heart without cause."

"Fair Lady," Elrond replied, returning to her and taking her hands in his. "You speak this way because you do not know what Maglor is. I sometimes think there is sorcery woven into his music, so easily doe he capture hearts with it. Long ago, he beguiled my brother and the result was Elros' death."

"Your brother?" Echuil'laer was lost, shaking her head. "He and Maglor were a couple? Then how could Elladan…"

"Because the minstrel has no scruples such as govern you and I," seethed Elrond, fiery wrath again dominating his mood. His grip upon her fingers tightened. "A wife he had to mate first. She died defending their child during the kin-slayings and yet she was easily discarded, their son's objections ignored, once Elros came of age. Whatever he did to hurt my brother I know not, for we became estranged and that is my fault. I lost him forever because of my judgement and disgust. Even then, you see, even then I laid the blame upon the victim foremost and could not find the courage to face Maglor and demand he end the illicit affair. Now he has Elladan in the same thrall. How long before he breaks my son utterly?"

"Ai, Elrond, I know not what counsel I can supply," sighed Echuil'laer, truly saddened by this ugly tale. "Yet you are hardened no longer; your eyes and your heart are opened now and you will not make the same mistake again." She paused to consider, freeing her hands and walking the ledge, praying for insight and the words to heal this vile wound in her law-father's family. Long she considered as Elrond patiently waited, silently watching her measure the length of the precipice over and over. At last she halted and came back to him, determination in her clear green eyes as she reached for his hands anew.

"My advise is this," she began, "when we come down to Lindon, go not to Himling for there you are on Maglor's territory, the place where he will feel strongest and most secure. Go instead to Círdan and lay your claim before him, demanding redress against your old foe and former mentor. Call your sons to you there and they will surely come. Then you may see how it is for Elladan and judge how best to act. If you must confront Maglor, let Elladan observe that the minstrel's real nature may be revealed to him. If this breaks his heart, then Elrohir and I will ferry him over sea ourselves, for we will not suffer him to fade."

Elrond felt tears come to his eyes and he pulled his son's chosen one into his arms, pressing her to him tightly in gratitude and relief. "Your words hold wisdom beyond your years and speak of sacrifice beyond all accounting. That you would abandon your family and all you know for my sons! A blessing you are to me, Echuil'laer, and I thank Varda you are here, for never could I get through this trial without such steadfast support and unshakeable loyalty."

"Peace," she soothed, glad her words had cooled his ire, and gently patted his rigid back. "There is yet hope. Your brother you have lost, but your sons remain among our people. You may be parted for a time but no more than that."

Thus it was that Elrond went not to Himling to condemn his surrogate father but to Mithlond and the palace or Nowë Círdan.

Epilogue - Part Three: Elrond

Imladris, Year 425 of the Third Age

The room was smaller than he remembered, or perhaps his memory had simply chosen to reconstruct his old suite in more elaborate and luxurious style. True, the furnishings were well crafted but the designs were simple and utilitarian, displaying clean lines and natural surfaces rather than artistry in carving or inlay. This was to his preference, and he smiled, recalling how his wish to make the space distinctly his own was not merely humoured by Círdan but encouraged.

The old Telerin Lord had been deeply pleased when Elrond appeared at his daily audience all those years ago, delighted to have a companion for Gil-galad close in stature yet not so close as to challenge his place as heir. They were of like age, too, there being not quite a hundred years between them. Círdan had been trying to get Eärendil's twins away from the Feänorion Princes since their capture, without success. Elrond's sudden defection, though its cause was never revealed, was greeted with joy.

Hurting from the loss of his twin, Elrond quickly accepted Gil-galad as an elder brother as well as friend and confidante. He smiled, the expression tinged with sorrow, as he recalled his boon companion. None could ever fill his place and if truth be told, Elrond would never pursue the Crown of the High King out of love and respect for Gil-galad.

Another loss to whether; another wound that will never heal until I reach Valinor.

Elrond sighed heavily. This visit was not about him. He grimaced and shook his head, trying hard to stop from wondering how things might have been different had Círdan been the one to raise him and Elros. It was a fruitless contemplation, for none of it could ever be undone.

The balcony beckoned he could not resist, strolling out to rest his weight upon the filigreed railing, staring out to sea, watching the eternal advance of the waves upon the strand. It felt comfortable to be here, he decided with no small surprise, and the soothing sound of the retreating tide eased the tension from his soul. Movement to his left caught his eye and he turned to find Echuil'laer on the adjacent porch. He smiled, she lifted her hand, and they both returned to the interior. A soft knock alerted him to her presence at the door.

"Enter, iellen 'wain (my new daughter)," he said proudly as she approached.

"You look well. When will you speak with Hîr Círdan?" she asked, smiling over the greeting as she came and kissed his cheek.

"I think now would be best," the voice from the hall was grim and immediately followed by the presence of the ancient lord. "I regret that Tegilion did not bring me your message at once. I was in Council and he knows I am not to be interrupted, yet for family he should have acted at once."

"Nay, no harm is done," assured Elrond, "at least not by this short delay." He bowed to Círdan in respect but was raised at once and enveloped in a crushing embrace.

"Then my troubled dreams have proved visionary," said the elder elf, releasing his favourite between Eärendil's sons. "Alas, I have dreamt of Elros these last thirty days and more. Your arrival confirms my fears: Elladan was not spared."

"Aye," Elrond nodded, fighting tears which sprang up the moment he opened his mouth to speak. "I had hoped somehow you might discredit my conclusions, but there is no longer any doubt. I, too, have had a vision."

"He is not in Annúminas, then," Círdan stated. "Had the notice of his plans come to me from any but yourself I would have given credence to my disturbing nightmares. I would have acted even if it meant going to Himling myself. I believed him," he shook his bearded chin. "Old and experienced as I am in the ways of deceit, even I was fooled. I have already summoned the culprit to answer for his crime."

"Maglor is en route here?" Elrond broke from him, taken aback, not thinking to have to challenge this elf so quickly, but Círdan's face showed surprise.

"Nay, he is nearly as much a victim of this plot as your son. I refer to Ossë, for it was he who designed this subterfuge and enlisted Elladan's aid. It was he who deceived me. For the rest, I cannot say; Maglor has much for which to answer."

With the speaking of his name, the majestic Maia materialised and strolled in from the open balcony, his manner regal and royal and ostentatious as ever yet not quite as menacing as perhaps he was wont to display. Indeed, he bowed to both his ancient friend and the Lord of Imladris, speaking as his silver hair swept the floor.

"Suilad Elrond, Adar od Elladan, Callon o Roda Maril, Barjânô o Silmarili ah Hervenn-en-Maglor Feänorion. (Greetings Elrond, Father of Elladan, the Hero of the Crystal Cave, Protector of the Silmarils, and Husband of Maglor son of Feänor)" He righted himself and met the cold fury of the two elven Lords.

"Pretty titles," spat Elrond, "but meaningless. Do you believe speaking empty flatteries will make your treachery acceptable? Explain your part in my son's downfall!"

"Your son is neither vanquished nor debased, Hîr Elrond. Instead of ruin, he has achieved a stature few in Middle-earth will ever match. Truly earned were those titles I spoke. They have been conferred not by me but by the Powers, and as always I am merely their emissary upon Arda," he countered, features placid with lordly complacence.

"I do not understand," Echuil'laer spoke up, edging closer to Elrond so to take his arm, hoping to arouse his protective instincts and thus prevent him from attacking the Maia, as his fierce glare and combative stance surely portended. "Is Elladan truly this ancient elf's husband? How so if Maglor is already bound to wife and child? And what can it mean, Hero of the Crystal Cave and Protector of the Silmarili? The stones are lost to Middle-earth, surely."

"Fair daughter of the Golden Wood," spoke Ossë, smiling upon her, "he is indeed mated to the great minstrel. As for the wife and child, again I must guide you to seek answers from the Valar. It has pleased them to dissolve the initial bond and bless the new one. More than this I cannot pretend to understand, for the mind and heart of Manwë are far from here, so to better confer with Iluvatar."

"You entrapped him!" yelled Elrond, held back from assaulting the Maia only by Echuil'laer's presence clinging to his arm.

"Elladan? Nay, I did not. It was you sent him here," reminded Ossë cruelly. "I merely introduced the couple, all else that transpired you must take up with Maglor himself, or your son, or the Valar if none of that suffices."

"Nay," Círdan interrupted. "When last we spoke it was agreed, old friend: Elladan was to be spared this trial. You gave to me your word another solution would be sought."

"True," Ossë shrugged, a careless gesture accompanied by a sheepish grin. "I lied about that part, old friend, but only because I was not at liberty to accept your terms. My instructions were quite clear; Maglor must be salvaged and Elladan was sent to me to achieve that purpose." He turned again to Elrond. "I have no personal desire to see your son harmed, Hîr Elrond, but Hîren Ulmo brooks no defiance from me."

"Liar! Fiend!"

Ossë had barely finished before a soul-shredding shout of vengeance and hatred exploded from Elrond's heart and he cast his law-daughter into Círdan's arms. Careless of his own safety, he leapt upon the lesser lord of the seas, bearing him down to the floor.

"Liar! Vile schemer! Apprentice to the Dark Lord! It is Elladan; it is my son to whom you have done this thing! He is not a tool placed in your hands but a person, beloved and cherished by family and friends!" Furiously he pounded Ulmo's acolyte, raining curses and blows upon him with equal fervour. No defence did the benthic Istar make, writhing and groaning under the barrage but permitting every strike. "You will undo it, all that you have done and most especially this mockery of a bond!" Elrond shouted during a pause to catch his breath.

"Ai! Hîren?" wailed Echuil'laer. "This is madness!" She feared to go near and retreated in horror as Elrond set to anew and blood spattered the clean wooden floors.

"Desist, Elrond!" shouted the Teleri Lord and a sudden red flash bathed the room, casting the irate father aside from Ossë. Círdan drew Elrond up from the ground and guided him to the far end of the room, settling him in a chair. There he slumped in boneless stupor, shivering and gasping for air, and the Lord of the Havens regarded his former ward in concern, for the blow had come through his Ring and his high emotion had lent the impact more energy than was healthy. "Speak!" he commanded in dread, taking Elrond by the chin and lifting the lolling head.

"What…would you have… me say, Hîren?" Elrond managed with no small effort. He reached for the hand that bore Narya, clasping it with the one adorned with Vilya, and another flash filled the room, this time the glow a purely healing charge, and when it faded he was himself again, renewed in both body and spirit. The two mighty lords shared grim smiles and faced the wayward lesser god of the deeps. Ossë, too, was healed and no sign of the conflict showed on his person.

"I hope you are satisfied," he snarled quietly, the light in his pale aqua eyes betraying the depth of his humiliation and shame. Never had elf-kind been permitted to accost him but as in all things, he was bound to accept the will of his betters across the Sundering Seas. Should he afflict the son of the Mariner in any way, he faced banishment into the void. Ossë clenched his webbed hands in impotent fury and remained still.

"Hardly," retorted Elrond. "Until Elladan is released form this vile curse upon his heart and soul, I hold you under the doom of Manw¨, for whatever task with which he charged you, this thing you have done to my son is not what he intended."

"Valar hear me!" roared Ossë in frustration, twisting about and stalking to the balcony, there to raise face and arms skyward, features contorted with confounded ire. "This is what I must bear from Tuor's descendants! Open their eyes and make them see that I am not to blame nor hold power to fulfil such a demand!"

If the Lord of the West was listening, he chose to ignore the outburst and Ossë returned to the study.

"I cannot do it, what you ask," he insisted. "It was never my design that they would bond; this you must believe. All of that happened between them without my intervention and there is nothing I can do." Then he waited, tense and verily radiating both loathing and fear, for he was in fact under doom, but it was not Manwë who would decide his punishment. The right and responsibility to demand redress for wrongs wrought upon his child were ever a father's first and foremost. Ossë had been given to know that his chastisement would arise from Elrond's words.

"I will have the why of it, and do not say again that Maglor must be saved. What does Hîr Ulmo care about that mad kin-slayer?" Elrond demanded, arising and confronting the Istar, and because of the doom placed upon Ossë he had no choice but to answer fully.

Thus was the story of the Silmarili and the last of Feänor's sons revealed, along with the great purpose the stones would someday serve. To this knowledge all were sworn to secrecy, though Círdan had made his vow nearly two Ages ago. It left them all solemn and quiet, pondering the enormity of what was planned, the enormity of the sacrifice demanded of Elladan. Echuil'laer sniffed, trying to control her tears, for it seemed such a heavy tax upon the love he'd found.

"And great must that love be," she whispered. "I can see how it would be the balm that sealed the cracks in the minstrel's sanity. We will stay, too, Elrohir and I, that they may not be alone, the last of our people upon these shores."

"I pray you, do not make such vows," implored Elrond. "Am I to lose both sons and my new daughter also?"

"Not lost, merely separated for a time," Echuil'laer smiled gently. "You do not want him alone here any more than Elrohir would. You cannot do this thing, so leave it to us."

"That is not decided," disagreed Elrond, wondering that her words sounded so much like fate.

"Nor is the doom upon this one," Círdan brought the conversation back to a more immediate point. "I am of the opinion that what you have not told us is why the Powers have made you so suddenly gracious and accommodating."

"Indeed. What has brought me here is a crisis of terrible proportions and of this you have not spoken, though I am convinced you are at the heart of it, as Círdan hinted. Speak your part in this, Ossë Alagos Ceredir (Ossë Storm Maker)."

The will of his betters demanded the Maia's full disclosure and nothing could he hide or gloss with trite referral to obeying orders. All his cruelty and sadistic torments were detailed and the sea god fully expected Elrond to attack him again. In truth, the heart-sick father could not get past the anguish his son had endured and sank wearily into the chair.

"Ai, Elladan," he whispered brokenly and found he no longer had any wish to try and remove his son from Maglor, for the degree to which his heart was bound was evident. Separation would be the death of him, and likely the fate of the minstrel, too. The Lord of Imladris shook his head and heaved a deep breath, lifting his eyes to Círdan. "Your counsel, Pen Idhren." (Wise One)

"He must be punished," the old Telerin Lord barked, glaring in such white fury upon his equally ancient friend of the sea that it was a wonder the Maia did not burst into flame. "We require the aid of Uinan, for only she has the power to contain her husband."

"Nay!" shouted the Maia. "You will not involve her! Already I have been punished enough, for she has left me alone and Hîr Ulmo has restricted my freedom. I am confined here to this shore alone, Círdan, and forbidden to seek my mate, wherever she may be."

"I do not blame her," said Elrond. "You have abused the trust and love she showed you. But for her, would not Ulmo have forced your return to Aman long ago, there to face the judgement of Manwë?" To this he received no answer save an enraged rumble from deep in the Maia's chest.

"I fear his interference in matters here," Círdan. "I would have him removed from the shores of Mithlond and especially Himling. Yet without Uinan, there is no means to know he would adhere to the ban."

"How if he could not move?" asked Elrond, a cunning smile spreading over his features that made Ossë pale. He knew, even if he had not revealed it, whatever the elven Lord spoke he was bound to endure.

"Again, such a task is only accomplished through Uinan, as far as I am able to discern."

"I was thinking that the ice flows of Helcaraxë would hold him bound safely."

"You would not dare!" shrieked Ossë.

"In spirit form do you mean?" queried Círdan, knowing Elrond did not for while that would cause Ossë real distress of mind and heart, yet he would not experience the kind of torment to which he had so readily subjected Elladan.

"I would rather he be bound in physical form as he is now, yet unclothed and without the presence of Uinan to succour him. There let him languish for one coronar and if Uinan judges him fit to welcome as her mate, then no further penalty shall result. If she refuses him still, then let him be removed to the boiling seas near the vents of Údun for yet another year," Elrond spoke his sentence as Ossë stood silent and seething before him. "After that, I consider my son will be avenged and the Maia's doom shall return to the keeping of his betters."

No sooner had he completed this statement than Ossë vanished, his elaborate clothes and crown left behind him, a bitter wail echoing in the vacated space.

Círdan chuckled with mirthless approval and bent to lift the pearl-studded coronet. "Mayhap Maglor can add this to his collection."

"So that has not changed, he still hordes the relics of the past," Elrond shook his head. "It is a grisly museum and I hate to think of Elladan living there."

"Perhaps it is time to summon your son hither, Elrond, and learn the extent of the harm done him," suggested Echuil'laer and both elf lords turned to her in surprise for they had forgot she was there.

"Aye, I will have both my sons attend me here. Send messengers to Himling, Hîren, and call them hence," agreed Elrond.

Waiting for Elladan was the hardest task Elrond had attended in many a long year and he was reminded of the twins' nativity, for he was as anxious and nervous to see them now as he had been then. He paced unceasingly and could not carry his end of the conversation Echuil'laer dutifully tried to maintain.Yet as soon as she fell silent he found the lack of speech unbearable and so she and Círdan used the time to learn of one another, for the old Teleri Lord considered himself family and would know his great-granddaughter, for so he perceived his role. Indeed, he regaled the Lady with many tales of Eärendil's childhood that even brought a slim smile to Elrond's face.

"Nay, can this be true?" she laughed brightly. "How could he adopt a dolphin? What of the creature's kin?"

"It is indeed true," assured Elrond, remembering the tale from his elfling days.

"Aye, the dolphin was orphaned, according to Uinan, and separated from his kind. Too young to know the migration route, the creature would have been devoured by a predator whilst trying to find his kin. It was our Goddess who brought the ailing thing into the harbour and placed it in Eärendil's care," C&iacurte;rdan chuckled, stroking his long whiskers. "She is wise, our Uinan, and saw how the child felt abandoned when his Adar went to sea for so many long years."

That gave Elrond a jolt, for that aspect of the story had never made it past his subconscious awareness before. Never had he so identified with his grand-sire as in that moment, but before he could voice his feelings, a sharp rap on the door heralded Erestor's entrance. He rose at once for directly behind his cousin came Elrohir and Elladan, and the elder twin's hand was clasped tight with his mate's, and thus was Maglor drawn somewhat hesitantly through the portal as well.

"Adar," said Elladan, taking a faltering step. "I did not mean for you to learn this way, please believe me. I would have come to you and revealed all, in time, yet much has happened and I…we…" He was interrupted.

"Elrond, I know what you must be thinking but this is nothing like your brother's situation," Maglor said, his voice strong and filled with his assurance that what he shared with Elladan was right and true. "I am not the same as I was then. I am whole again and my mind is clear. Now do I see my errors and regret the fate that befell Elros because of me. Though centuries of time have passed, I humbly beg your forgiveness. I never meant to do him harm." Maglor bowed low, hand over his heart.

"Forgiveness?" Elrond sputtered, face gone white and eyes wide in disbelief. "Dare you ask it? Harm? Is that your definition of death and eternal separation from me and all his family?"

"Be calm, kinsman," Erestor exhorted softly. "There is much you do not know."

"You defend him now, I see," Elrond sneered. "Your naneth has no champion left to …"

"Nay, Adar, do not speak so," implored Elrohir, stepping closer and blocking the seneschal from his father's fierce glare. "Erestor has done you no wrong."

"Peace!" exhorted C´rdan. "I will not have this disintegrate into a war of insults and accusations. The room is crowded, Erestor. I think it best if you and your Adar, indeed, all of us, step out and permit Elrond to speak with Elladan alone." It was plain enough the Lord of Mithlond would tolerate no opposition. "Come, we will adjourn to my private study." He opened the door and waited as Elrohir hesitated a moment and then grabbed Echuil'laer by the hand and left, followed by Erestor.

It was a minute more before Maglor would let go of his mate, for Elladan was wary of facing his father alone. At last he leaned close and stole a brief kiss, squeezing hard before releasing the hand in his grasp and ducking through the door. The silence that followed was filled with a volatile mixture of emotions: regrets, remorse, apprehension, and hope swirling through the cooling ocean breeze. Any spoken phrase might easily push any one of those elements to the fore. Neither father nor son knew where to begin or how to proceed and each waited for the other to speak first, eyes locked and bodies tense.

Yet Elrond was the parent and in the end could do nothing less than take the dominant part, though his manner was contrite rather than commanding. With the source of his disquiet removed, there was only his son before him, Elladan, who so needed that love and acceptance his law-daughter championed. It was hard to see him thus, the new bond bright in his wide grey eyes, the ravages of grief and despair evident in his depleted body, soul-bludgeoned and heart-torn to the very verge of Námo's domain. Terror and relief mingled in Elrond's mind, grateful the worst was over and Elladan had survived it, frantic that it had all transpired without any family near to aid him.

"Elladan, Ion, I cannot say…Ai! To see you like this, to see you," he took a step and held out his hand and at once Elladan raced to him. They embraced, Elrond clutching his son to him, glad beyond definition just to feel the physical presence pressed close against his heart, the steady rhythm of its counterpart reassuring. "I feared you lost to me."

"Ada," Elladan managed, face buried against his father's neck, nose pressed into the thick inky tresses so like his own. "I have been so lost."

"Aye, I can understand it," soothed Elrond, firmly stroking the strong back. "There is much I might have told you to prevent this."

"Nay, it is not so," Elladan stood back, a spark of anger lighting his eyes as he scanned his father's features. "You cannot know what this has been. I…I lost who I was…am. I was Elros, Adar, for a time, and came through that only to learn I have no means to define myself without Elrohir beside me or you behind me. I have ever just been a shadow to you both. Now am I Maglor's shadow."

"That is not true!" Elrond's voice was fierce in denial of his son's self-assessment.

"How can you say that?" Elladan's voice rose in frustration. "Now you will tell me my own experiences and does that not confirm my words? If I am not even permitted to express what it is like to be Elladan, what kind of impostor must I be that you know better what is in my heart?"

"I do not mean that," protested Elrond, struck by the vehemence of his son's anguish. "I only meant I have never viewed you as my shadow or your brother's, nor Elros' ghost. You are nothing like him, ion, though we all bear resemblance to one another; your soul and your heart are unique." He gripped Elladan at the biceps tightly and peered at the confused face before him. "If you have felt nothing more than a mirror, then the fault for it lies with me and your mother, but mostly with me. Tell me and I will hear you. Tell me what it means to be Elladan."

Silence returned, for Elladan was not at all sure there were adequate words to describe all that had happened, nor was he certain these were things he wanted his father to know. Besides turning him even more against Maglor, there was the looming issue of his forbidden needs. He was too raw inside to endure his father's censure and disgust. To be disowned from the family, never to see his naneth or visit the valley again, these were threats too real to dismiss and so he could not confront them.

"Elladan?" Elrond prompted gently, soul twisting to watch the uncertainty and fear chasing through the haggard figure before him.

"I love him," Elladan suddenly blurted out, the sentence a rasping gasp, desperate and defiant at the same time.

Elrond physically flinched, feeling both the dread and the exultant pride in that cry, a purely involuntary declaration wrapped in rebellion and resignation, for there was no denying Elladan believed those words would sever him from all else he held dear.

"Yes," Elrond managed to nod and offer a shaky smile. "That is evident; the bond shines with the blessing of Eru. Elladan, I am not displeased for your heart to know this love."

Elladan's mouth gaped for a second or two and he shook his head as though trying to clear his ears, for he must have heard wrong. "Are you mad?" he asked, staring at the remorseful expression in which his father's face was cast. "You have made a love like this unlawful and spoken at length of its degenerate nature, naming not Eru as the source but that influence of Melkor that marred all of Arda."

"True and I have been a fool to say so, as Echuil'laer has taken pains to point out. For several days I've mulled over this moment and yet none of the things I imagined I might say seem meet. I cannot know what you are thinking right now but I assure you my intent is not to condemn you for what has happened. Indeed, I must beg forgiveness for sending you to this dire fate so ill prepared."

"This is not your doing, Adar; there is nothing to forgive," Elladan was quick to correct him. "My fate was crafted for me by Iluvatar, as everyone's is, and I have no cause to complain of it. It is a fairer one than you have lived, perhaps." He offered a hopeful smile, having expected an explosive confrontation and nothing less than complete rejection. How Echuil'laer had changed his father he couldn't imagine but the way looked clear toward reconciliation. "I am still welcome in Imladris, then?"

"Of course you are," Elrond replied in exasperation. "Imladris is your home, Elladan. You are my son. How can I not mourn this which has befallen you? Is this what a father would wish for his child? First my parents were Iost due to Maglor and those cursed stones. Then my brother he took from me and now you. Tolerance I could manage but that your chosen mate is this particular elf…"

"I cannot help whom I love." Elladan turned away then and moved toward the open balcony, gazing upon the vastness of the open sea, gazing north where Himling lay anchored. "And my home is here, or wherever he dwells." He heard the sharp intake of breath but refused to look back, waiting in tense anticipation of the reply.

"I see," Elrond said quietly, sadly. "It is right for you to honour this bond, but I would hope you will always consider the valley your home, too. Your mother would not take it well if I must report that you have abandoned us completely."

"Ai, Ada, I have not abandoned you!" exclaimed Elladan, returning for another warm hug, pleased beyond all words for this affirmation. "Do you believe she will accept us?"

"Us? That is much to ask of her or me. There is history beyond that told in books which you do not know." Elrond eased his son back and met his eyes, all his concerns displayed. "I fear this bond was enjoined under duress and that it may in time bring you only more pain."

"Nay, he has told me everything. It is you who remain in the dark. There is a story to tell and once you have heard it, then I would hear your honest response to what has come to pass. All I ask is your forbearance until we have revealed what purpose we serve, for we've agreed the time for secrets must end, at least within the family. Beyond this, my love is not dependent upon history, either revealed or concealed, but upon the nature of the one my heart has chosen."

"I have learned of it, for we have confronted Ossë, Círdan and I,and forced the truth from him," said Elrond. "It is his task, not yours," he added, a flash of anger streaking through his stormy eyes. "It is wrong for him to place so large a burden upon shoulders so young, upon a heart untried."

"I am not a child, Adar, and my heart has been sorely tried," Elladan countered.

"That is not what I meant and you know it." Elrond paced along the balcony, halting and turning to Elladan. "I concede he was not the primary motivator in this scheme, yet once he knew you were not Elros he should have released you from the bond at once. He is using you."

"Nay, he needs me and he loves me, Ada. Maglor tried to send me away but I wouldn't go. I will not go, no matter who may attempt to take me from him." It was not lost on Elladan that his father had yet to speak his husband's name. "Please, Ada, let the past rest. He is not as he was then. I would have you meet Maglor as he is now, my mate and my beloved. When you hear him sing you…"

"I will not listen to any of his songs," Elrond snapped. "Well do I know their power over those in my lineage. Thus he enthralled you; it is clear as the sun."

"I do not deny it," Elladan shrugged, a pleased and contented smile upon his lips, for his father's objection contained his tacit consent, "but his magic works only for me. Nana has nothing to fear, Adar; he will not seek to steal you away from her."

"A poor jest, ion," Elrond warned darkly.

"Aye, forgive me," Elladan's faced flushed a bit and he went to his father. "Just speak with him, Adar, and you will become convinced. Only I will have your word that you will not give in to your temper nor seek redress for Elros' choice."

"Be at peace," Elrond murmured. It was time, after all these Ages of time gone by, to face not only his old mentor but his own guilt. "I will not do him any harm, Elladan. Go, send your husband to me."

That meeting was strained and unsettling to Elrond and Maglor felt intensely the depth to which his actions had harmed the elven lord. One look at his son confirmed his understanding, for had anyone subjected Erestor to like woes, the minstrel would not be inclined to mercy either. No words he could produce enabled him to ease the friction between them. Erestor remained aside, not feeling need to aid his Adar in this task, and Elrond and he exchanged more than one baleful glance. Clearly, neither one felt Elladan's fate deserved nor the gift of his heart the minstrel's right. That is was given was the only fact that prevented a bitter and bloody confrontation, and Maglor departed the suite without Elrond's forgiveness and certainly not his blessing.

Elrond refused to go to Himling and would meet only with Elladan alone, never with the couple together. He would not dine at Maglor's table nor suffer to be in his presence at Hîr Círdan's. No feast was held to honour the newly bonded pair and Elrond was loathe to make a formal announcement of the union. Even more reticent was he of communicating the news to Celebrian, for there was little doubt in anyone's mind of her reaction. Finally, after a two weeks of waiting to make sure Elladan was truly recovering, Elrond deemed it time to return home. Elrohir, Echuil'laer, and Erestor accompanied him, leaving the lovers to manage their new life together alone, as they would do for endless days to come.

It was not until Elrohir's wedding the following spring that Elladan returned to Imladris. He came alone. His meeting with his mother did not go well and she made no effort to conceal her shame and disgust. At least she maintained a fitting demeanour in public, but the joyous occasion was marred by her unyielding displeasure. Elladan stayed less than a month and returned thereafter every other year to serve in the patrols and endure his naneth's attempts to divide him from his mate, suffering in polite yet distant courtesy the maiden ladies presented for his acquaintance and approval. The two were never reconciled.

As for Elrond, forgiveness did finally take up residence in his heart, but not before tragedy struck the family anew. It was the assault and kidnapping of his wife that provided the catalyst, for when she could not bear to remain in Middle-earth and journeyed over sea, then Elrond broke down and found himself receiving comfort not from his sons but from the Noldorin Prince. His sons were gone, vanished into the wilds to avenge their mother and it was long years before anything was heard of them save rumour and a hasty note now and again.

Both Elrond and Echuil'laer moved to Himling, Erestor and Elrohir's eldest remaining to rule the protected vale, and there the three abandoned spouses consoled one another in their worry and grief. When at last the wayward twins returned, sick in spirit from killing, covered with the stench of battle and death, only then was real healing achieved and at long last peace grew between the House of Feänor and the House of Eärendil.

~ The End ~

.

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
- 12
- 13
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

Barad-en-Elei (Fortress of Dreams)

~ The End ~