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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4275 -:- 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
- 13
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Chapter XIII: Shattered

The prince's return to the great hall was greeted with much concern for him and anger at his attackers. Aragorn made short work of Gethron and his men, throwing them into confinement to await his judgment. But he and Arwen were puzzled by Elrohir's failure to return as well. If there was one who should have been more than eager to wreak vengeance on Legolas' assailants, it should have been the twin. Yet he was nowhere to be found.

Legolas declined to explain why the Elf-warrior had suddenly made himself scarce, his sense of guilt too great at the moment. He could not quite meet Arwen's incredulous stare.

Elsewhere, Elrohir was caught between fury and anguish. First Legolas had quarreled with him the other day. Then this morning Aragorn had had the temerity to lecture him. Hardly had he recovered his calm when he overheard his sister and the prince discussing him, the latter using terms that grated on his already frayed nerves, words that had cut to the quick despite Arwen's spirited defense. To top it all, he had come to Legolas' aid tonight and what had that garnered him? Another reminder of his failings.

He'd heard Legolas calling his name, imploring him to return. Knew that if he'd stopped, the archer would have come after him at once. But to what end? he thought dismally. So that he might soothe me with his body once more? Elrohir shuddered. It was no longer enough. The heat of their couplings, the ecstasy of release in the prince's arms could no longer make up for the deep-seated pain in his heart.

He walked on until he found himself nigh to Fen Hollen. He smiled grimly as he noted the slumbering porter and the telltale flask by his side. This was one human who would find himself under fire before long, he thought. He would have to report the man's egregious negligence himself.

But for now that negligence would serve his purpose. With will-o'-the-wisp lightness, he lifted the key to the Closed Door from the inebriated man's belt, took a lantern and slipped within in silence. He walked down the climbing path to the Silent Street and at last came to a stop amongst the tombs and houses of dead Kings and Stewards.

With a dolorous sigh, he sat down upon a stone bench close to the House of Stewards, rebuilt in the years after the last Ruling Steward's fiery demise. He looked at the building but did not really mark it. He mirthlessly considered the horror of his family were they to discover his whereabouts. But that was the point of coming here.

He was in no mood for company at the moment. No one would trouble him here.

“My lord?”

He almost groaned in frustration at the intrusion but something familiar about the sweet, clear voice stayed him. He looked behind him and espied a young woman in the semi-darkness. She had been staring at him all evening in the great hall. He'd thought he knew her but could not quite recall who she was. But now he suddenly recognized her.

“Gilwen?” he said.

She laughed with delight. “You still remember me, my lord!” she said.

Elrohir had to smile. “I confess I did not at first, hiril nîn”-my lady- he replied. “You have grown up since I last saw you.”

She was a great-niece of Imrahil of Dol Amroth, granddaughter to the Prince's oldest sister Ivriniel. Her father had served at one point as a counsellor to King Elessar. In that time, she had tagged along behind him whenever her family came to Minas Tirith. He knew she had been infatuated with him but that had come to an end upon her father's return to Belfalas and the court of her great-uncle.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

“I followed you.” She looked at him curiously. “I saw how you helped Prince Legolas. But you seemed so upset afterwards I worried about you and thought I might be of comfort.”

“My thanks for your concern. But 'twas only a small matter.”

“Oh, I think not,” she said, shaking her head. “I have never seen you so angry before. What did that arrogant Elf say to you to trouble you so deeply?”

“Do not speak of Legolas in that manner,” he said sharply before he could catch himself.

“Forgive me. 'Tis just that I do not like to see you hurt,” she said contritely.

Her words were a timely balm for his injured pride and troubled heart. He smiled at her suddenly, which had the effect of speeding up the rate of her heartbeat. “Nay, there is no need to apologize. I should not take my anger out on you.” He looked at her wonderingly. “Did you not fear to come here?”

She looked about at the pale statues and tombs and mansions. A shiver ran through her slender frame.

“I did,” she admitted. “But you entered and so I followed. 'Tis not so frightening with you here.”

He smiled faintly then reached out an inviting hand to her. “Come, tell me about your life since you left Minas Tirith.”

She came forward, her face flushed by the pleasure of his invitation, and sat by his side. “There is nothing to tell, my lord,” she said. “I married and that is all.”

“What?” he chuckled. “That is all? Surely there is more to tell. How is your husband? Is he kind to you?”

“He is kind enough,” she replied. “But no amount of kindness can conceal the fact that we are ill-suited for each other.”

Elrohir noticed the bitterness that had crept into her voice. Not willing to pry into her reasons, he chose another tack. “And children?” he asked. “Surely you have little ones?”

She shook her head. “I have taken pains to ensure I do not bear him children.”

The twin was taken aback. A crease marred his brow. “The members of your family may carry elven blood in their veins,” he commented, “but I did not think it potent enough to enable you to determine whether you conceive or not.”

“'Tis not,” she admitted. “I-I went to someone - an old hag in the hills. She gave me something to prevent me from breeding. A potion.”

The crease evolved into a full-blown frown. Elrohir knew of what she spoke. Though Sauron was long defeated and his master, Morgoth, before him, the dark arts they had fostered in their baneful realms still existed in Middle-earth, their practitioners now mostly coming from the ranks of Men. Most of the ancient spells and charms were lost, thank the Powers, for only those with the gift of enchantment could wield them with consistent results. But chemical concoctions enhanced by incantations were not beyond the skills of mortals with limited abilities.

Various poisons were by far the most common of these potions. The orcs had made good use of them since time immemorial and still did so today but Men had also since learned how to make these toxic brews. But there were other mixtures of foul intent that could be had for a price. Most, if properly made, were effective for after all they had been devised by the two foremost proponents of evil in all of Arda. There were elixirs that could bend the minds of men to the will of whoever administered them, remedies that could increase fertility or destroy budding life, aphrodisiacs and love potions that forced the body or heart from its appointed path.

The practitioners, self-proclaimed witches and warlocks, fed on the need of men to twist or thwart fate. Though mercifully few and scattered, they nevertheless thrived, each generation passing on to another their black lore. Enough of their brews worked to convince men of their efficacy. Elrohir did not care to think of the horrifying ends of those who had been unfortunate enough to imbibe the potions that did not. For few if any of these so-called sorcerers actually understood the scant knowledge they possessed. Partaking of the results of their dubious talents entailed great risk.

“You should not indulge in such practices, hiril,” he cautioned. “They are sprung from the evil of Thangorodrim and Mordor. 'Tis perilous to dabble in them.”

“But I cannot bear the thought of having children with him!” she softly cried out.

Curiosity finally won out. “What sets you against your lord?” Elrohir asked.

“He is barely past his majority, a clumsy oaf of a boy who lacks the lore and refinement of my family. Are those not reason enough?”

Elrohir stared at her in sudden compassion. “Gilwen, I am sorry. I did not know you had been wed to one so distasteful to you.”

“Even had you known what could you do?” She choked, “You are an Elvenlord of Rivendell and kinsman to our King and much too high for the likes of me!” She suddenly swayed.

Shocked, Elrohir caught her. For the first time, he noted that she was not completely sober. The smell of wine was on her breath. Too much wine, he thought.

“Lady, I think you have imbibed more than is good for you,” he murmured.

“Nay, I know what I am doing though I daresay the wine has loosened my tongue a bit.” She looked at him with teary eyes. “I needed to take a little more to get up my courage.”

He stared at her. “Courage for what?”

“Courage to tell you that I have loved you all these years.” She laughed ay his stunned expression. “Oh, do not look so shocked. Surely you know that fully half the female population of Gondor is in love with you!”

Elrohir let his breath out. He knew that, of course. He was well acquainted with the adulation as well as the ambitions and scheming that accompanied it.

“What is it you want of me?” he quietly asked. When she stared at him in return, he said, “You did not tell me you loved me just to unburden your heart, I think.”

She burst into tears. “Nay, I did not. I am so weary, my lord. So tired of pretending and waiting for a boorish child to come home to me when my desires lie elsewhere!” She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

Reflexively, Elrohir felt himself respond. Part of him was surprised that he could still feel desire outside of love. But he also knew that he was badly in need of release. His talk with Aragorn came back to him as well as the discussion he had overheard between his sister and Legolas. Anger grew within him once more. But instead of lashing out at the young woman, he allowed it to be diverted in another direction.

Yes, why not take this willing body? At least, she loved him. It would be pleasant to be the object of affection or desire for a change. And he had not had a woman in so many years.

He pulled away from her and looked at her flushed face. He ensnared her with the smile that never failed to set hearts aflutter. She drew in her breath deeply as she read the message in his grey eyes. She did not resist when he stood up and guided her down Rath Dinen to the Closed Door nor did she protest when he led her back to the Citadel, the royal pavilion and his bedchamber.

*******

The following morning found the prince of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen on his own. He had risen early and had his morning meal in the dining hall. There were very few folk around for most were still recovering from the previous night's events. Even Aragorn and Arwen seemed to have stayed abed a little later than usual.

After his meal, he hied off to the stables. He had not had the opportunity to see to his steed since arriving in Minas Tirith.

Legolas curried his horse absently. He was deeply worried about Elrohir and how the twin had dealt with last night's confrontation. I hurt him with my ill-spoken words; drove him away with my cruelty. He had considered going to Elrohir's room to apologize but feared his friend would still be in too black a mood to even tolerate his presence.

He looked up from what he was doing and saw the object of his thoughts watching from the stable door. Elrohir looked neither happy nor displeased to see him. Sighing, he stopped what he was doing and passed the task to the stable boy. He walked to the Elf-lord.

“You did not return to the hall,” he said as he neared the twin.

Elrohir shrugged. “I had no desire for company.”

Legolas looked at his friend anxiously. He seemed so spent in spirit, so listless. “I am to blame for that,” he said ruefully. “I am sorry about last night, Elrohir. I had no right to speak to you in that manner. I - I did not even thank you for what you did for me. Please forgive me.”

The Elf-warrior took no notice of the apology. He lowered his eyes and asked quietly, “Legolas, when was the last time you had a woman?”

The prince stared in surprise at such a drastic change in topic. “I beg your pardon?” he said slowly.

“Your hearing is as sharp as mine. You heard what I asked.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the rather caustic tone the other had used. His mouth tightened but he refrained from voicing his displeasure. “I think we'd best go somewhere else if we are going to discuss this,” he said pointedly.

Elrohir responded by leading the way down the street towards an empty stretch of road near the bordering wall. He stared down at the winding pathways below while Legolas stood silently at his side. He glanced at the prince and raised an eyebrow to indicate he was waiting for an answer.

Legolas did not know whether to be offended or not by so impertinent a query. But deciding he did not want another quarrel with Elrohir he replied with as much good grace as possible. He managed a wry smile. “Let us just say it was before the Haradrim incursion. Since then you have kept me too busy to seek female companionship.”

Elrohir only frowned more deeply. “I went to the Hallows last night,” he said quietly, unmindful of Legolas' surprise. “An old acquaintance joined me there. Do you remember Lady Gilwen?”

Legolas searched his memory. “She is a great-niece of Imrahil, is she not? She used to follow you everywhere.”

“She followed me last night. She is all grown up and married, did you know?” Legolas shook his head. “To a husband she despises.”

The prince made a sound of disgust. “I will never understand why Men persist on arranging such unions,” he commented.

“She needed comfort last night,” Elrohir went on. “She offered me something else in return. I accepted.”

Legolas went very still. After a while, he smiled without humor. “So much for professions of love and fidelity,” he said dryly. His eyes glinted ominously.

Elrohir laughed bitterly. “You are angry. That is good to know. At least, you still care enough to be jealous of my attentions.” He looked at Legolas and his eyes were suddenly somber. “It had been more than twenty years since I had last lain with anyone. “ He paused a moment at the archer's unbelieving stare. “She told me she loved me. I thought it would be pleasing to be the one pursued for a change.”

The archer visibly flinched at the reason for his yielding but Elrohir took no notice.

“It should not have troubled me in the least,” he continued. “I have bedded more women than I care to recall and taken ellyn”-male Elves -“for the pleasure they could give me. Though I confess I never touched another after I had you in Mirkwood.” He smiled mirthlessly at the archer's startled reaction. “Last night should not have mattered in the least for what was one more tryst to me? But after we were - done, I remembered why I had not taken other lovers in all these years. Elbereth forgive me but I broke-” He suddenly shuddered.

Legolas looked at him bewilderedly. “Broke what?”

The Elf-knight laid eyes so shadowed with self-castigation upon him that it made him shiver.

“'Tis hard enough to love someone who loves you not,” Elrohir said softly. “But 'tis an even greater burden to yield to someone whose love you do not return especially when yours is already bestowed elsewhere. It leaves a stain on your soul that will not wash away so easily.”

His words made Legolas cringe inwardly pertaining as they did as much to their relationship as to Elrohir's tryst with Gilwen. Yet there was also a feeling that that was not all that the warrior was referring to. But before he could question him, Elrohir surprised him anew.

“I was wrong to try and make you care for me beyond what might be expected of a friend,” the twin said in a low voice. “It was not right to burden you with my need. I can only imagine how frightened you have been since I told you how I felt and with no one to turn to with your fears. Not even me.”

Legolas drew a sharp breath. It was uncanny how well Elrohir knew him. “I missed my best friend,” he admitted.

Elrohir nodded. “I know. I am sorry,” he murmured. He swallowed hard then said: “I will not hold you to something you did not seek. I release you from any obligation you feel you have toward me.”

Legolas was taken aback. He had not thought Elrohir would broach the subject so soon. “I have not asked this of you,” he said.

Sorrow flickered in Elrohir's eyes. “You do not have to,” he said. “You claim you did not yield your heart to Estel in full and mayhap that is true. Yet you find the memory sweet and incomparable. For restrained as your feelings may have been, you felt three words for him; short and simple words but more precious than all the treasures of Middle-earth. Since then you have closed your heart once more. Until you let the memory go, unless you reopen your heart, you will never say those words to me.”

“Elrohir-”

“I had thought my hopes were possible but now...” Elrohir turned bright eyes on his friend. Legolas winced silently at the pain so clearly mirrored in them. “I have never run away from the truth. I will not start now. Forget I ever asked anything of you, ernilen.”-my prince. “Forget I ever touched you and tainted you and the memories of us that you held dear.” He had never spoken in such a toneless voice, bereft of all feeling, of all life.

Legolas gasped. “That is not so! How can you think that?”

“Because I am only Elrohir and against me your heart stays shielded. Be at ease, Legolas, I swear I will trouble you no more.” He turned away even as he spoke to stare unseeingly at the vastness of the Pelennor.

Legolas stared at him in shock and remorse. “Forgive me for hurting you, Elrohir,” he whispered. “If I could give you what you desire, I-”

“You would. Aye, as you did in the past.” Elrohir sighed. “I understand why you behaved as you did. I do not hold any of it against you. You have always been a true friend and 'twas I who overstepped my bounds. Please, do not trouble yourself any longer over this.”

“But I do not wish to end it this way!”

“There is no other way.”

The archer reached desperately for him, clasped his hand between his suddenly clammy palms. “Can we not - can we not be as friends again?” he implored.

The saddest eyes he'd ever beheld met his for an instant before they reverted to their aimless stare. “I wish we could,” Elrohir softly said. “But you know 'tis not possible, Calenlass. That ended when I declared myself to you. You know of my regard for you and that would only discomfort you. You will always hold my attentions suspect and shy even from the slightest touch of my hand, fear my gaze upon you should it be warmer than wonted.”

“Nay, I would not!” the prince protested vehemently.

“Deceive me if you wish, if only out of your kindness, but do not deceive yourself.”

Legolas thought his heart would give out, so pained was it at this imminent severance of their friendship. “Elrohir, I beg of you, do not let this sunder us,” he almost sobbed.

“Forgive me, ernilen, but this once I cannot grant your desire. There is no going back.” He gently pulled his hand out of the archer's grasp. Again the twilight eyes alighted on him for the briefest of moments, tenderness and affection in their depths. “I will always love you, Legolas, even should the world change once more.” And then their light was vanquished and the warrior turned from him. “Please go. I need to be alone.”

His voice brooked no protest or resistance. Legolas, though fiercely unwilling to go, could do nothing more than obey.

As he slowly walked away, his eyes stinging furiously, he glanced back at the Elf-warrior. Elrohir stood straight and tall and proud. Any who passed him by would never have guessed at the grief that ravaged him from within.

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

Glossary:

Calenlass - Greenleaf

To be continued…
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince