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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6313 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter XIII: The Slow Road

Eldamar FA 172

Roaming lips marked his fair skin. Knowing hands mapped his lean frame.

Calenlass nîn.

He moaned as he was filled, cried out as he was delved repeatedly.

Melethron.

His aching length was clasped and stroked until finally he spent himself in an explosion of exquisite sensation.

Legolas jerked awake, gasping raggedly in the wake of so rousing a dream. Elbereth! Why did he have to dream thus and so often? He groaned in frustration. He threw aside the covers, got out of bed and snatched up the now soiled sheet angrily.

It was more than a dozen years since he had last shared his bed with the young Elf-knight. When Elrohir had passed his first two decades, Legolas had realized it was unwise to continue being in such close and intimate proximity to him. Elrohir had been precocious in his previous childhood; that precociousness had not changed with his return from the timeless halls. Even Elladan had agreed that it was no longer proper for his brother to sleep in the archer’s bed.

Legolas sighed. He could still recall how upset Elrohir’s nurse Almáriel had been when he first took her charge into his night’s keeping. He could not blame her.

The last time in Valinor’s history that Elves had borne witness to their spouses growing up from infancy into adulthood was after the kinslayings. Since then, there had been no further deaths amongst Edhil in the Blessed Realm. It was the Firstborn of Middle-earth who had filled the Halls of Awaiting all these long ages. And since those who were adjudged worthy of release were reborn long before the arrival of their mates on the shores of Aman, there had been no recent instances of a surviving spouse waiting out the growth and return of memories of his or her mate. Legolas and Elrohir’s situation was therefore unique in the present age.

Small wonder that their closeness was viewed with confusion and some unease by some quarters. Even when it had become clear that Legolas had no intention of flouting custom and pressuring the Elf-knight into recalling all of his past, many still regarded the relationship between the archer and his swiftly maturing binding-mate with discomfort.

It had been permissible when Elrohir had been but a child. But what had once been a wholly innocent intimacy could now turn into something else and, reborn or not, the younger twin was still in his minority and therefore not to be touched in that manner even by his own spouse.

This stricture had burdened Legolas’ already troubled heart. It had been hard to give up the comfort of having Elrohir so close by. Loneliness had closed in on him in full measure once more when he’d ceased to allow his Elf-knight into bed with him. His dreams had begun about then.

Legolas replaced the stained sheet with a fresh one, stripped off his damp nightclothes, then clambered back into bed. What his servants would make of the soiled items in the morning was no longer of import. They’d seen evidence of his nocturnal problem frequently enough in the past several years to have gotten used to it. And all members of his staff in Ithilien, they were loyal, discreet and sympathetic and spoke not a word of his distress to anyone outside of his immediate household, not even to his family.

Before he drifted back into slumber, one consoling thought occurred to him. He was visiting Artirion the following day. He would be with Elrohir once more. The thought soothed his lonely soul and, this time, when he slept, his dreams were of a more chaste nature.

********

As he rode down the wide path into the vale of Artirion, Legolas pondered the recollections that had disrupted Elrohir’s life in the past several years. Since experiencing the nightmare about the spiders of Greenwood the Great, the young Elf-knight had been bedeviled by dreams and visions of places and events in Middle-earth.

Golden-leafed, silver-barked trees east of the Great Sea. A multileveled city cradled by a mountain and before it, on a vast plain, an enormous army replete with siege machines. His mother’s torment at the hands of bestial creatures. A dark, close forest where Elves battled more of the many-legged monsters that had so frightened him. But most of all, a river bordered, pine-scented valley to the west of a towering mist-covered mountain range.

Rather than frighten him with the revelation of his death and rebirth, his loved ones had allayed his confusion with the explanation that his visions came of the influence of the tales told him of the Hither Lands. After all, he was a scion of a family fulsomely gifted in the mind-arts. It was possible he had inadvertently picked up on others’ thoughts and emotions.

Elrohir had accepted the explanation initially, trusting in his elders’ wisdom and recognizing their concern for him. But in the last three years he had stopped being so accepting and had started to question the significance of his dreams. Were they only the reflections of others’ imaginings?

It had been a difficult period for everyone. How to satisfy the Elf-knight’s curiosity without prematurely subjecting him to the inevitable trauma of learning the truth? They had been forced to resort to dissimulation and evasion in order to spare him just a little longer.

Legolas came out of his reverie as his steed cantered up to the arched entrance of the courtyard of Elrond’s halls. He smiled as he espied the young Elf racing out to meet him as he rode into the large and circular stone-paved space. Elrohir never failed to be the first to welcome him to his father’s halls.

But he was soon shocked when he noted the pallor of the youth’s face as he neared. And when Elrohir flew into his arms as soon as he dismounted and buried his face in his chest, he knew something was definitely wrong.

Before he could question the lad, he saw Elladan approaching as well. The older twin looked as pale as his brother.

Elrohir raised a troubled countenance and blurted out: “Legolas, I-I am one of the reborn!”

The stunned archer stared at him then up at Elladan. The twin nodded in acknowledgement of the prince’s silent query.

“We had to tell him,” he explained. “He remembered the night we declared our choice.”

Legolas drew in his breath slowly. “Ai, dearest one, I can see why you are upset,” he addressed Elrohir.

“Elladan and I were – are twins,” Elrohir whispered. “I had always wondered why others regarded us so strangely but now I understand.” He swallowed hard. “All my dreams and visions – they make sense now. I was not imagining them but remembering my – my past life.”

He looked up at Legolas, shaking visibly. “They refuse to tell me how I – how I died,” he gulped. “Can you tell me?”

Legolas paled. “Nay, Elrohir, I cannot,” he said almost hoarsely. He closed his eyes of a sudden, the memory of that grief-drenched morn looming with acute vividness in his mind.

“Legolas?” Elrohir gazed at him in alarm. “What is wrong?”

“Legolas and I were present at your passing,” Elladan said abruptly. “It pains us overmuch to even think of it much less speak of it. Please, gwanneth”—younger twin—“let it come to you at the right time.”

Elrohir looked from his brother to the prince, his eyes now frightened. “But what if I remember it when I am alone?” he whispered.

Legolas felt a chill snake its way up his spine. He looked across at Elladan. The older twin had also flinched inwardly at his brother’s expressed fear.

No wonder Elrohir was so upset. The two he most trusted, with whom he felt most secure, did not live in his father’s house. Legolas dwelt in Taur Galen while Elladan and Nimeithel resided in a neighboring domicile. Close by but still separate.

Legolas swiftly made up his mind. Elladan had a family. It would be difficult for him to uproot his household and move back into Elrond’s halls. But Legolas was beholden to no one in Taur Galen. And it was near enough to visit any time should the necessity arise.

“If your parents permit it, I will dwell in Artirion until you recall that event,” he softly offered.

Elrohir gasped then gazed at him in elation. “Will you truly?” he implored.

“I must ask your father’s leave first,” Legolas said.

Elladan smiled gratefully at the prince. “I do not see a problem with your suggestion, gwanur”—kinsman—he said. “You are kin and welcome any time and for as long as you desire. And ‘tis not as if you will share the same bedchamber after all.”

Legolas sighed and nodded his acknowledgement of the subtle reminder. Meanwhile, Elrohir beamed with patent relief at both of them.

“I will tell Ada that ‘twas I who asked this of you,” he decided. “He will not refuse me.” His confidence elicited smiles from his brother and the archer.

When the young Elf shook anew in his embrace, Legolas asked with concern, “What is it?”

Elrohir bit his lip and lifted glistening eyes to him. “I also remembered what happened to Arwen,” he said. “And that Elessar – was Estel.”

Legolas went still as did Elladan. The older twin sighed and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezing it consolingly.

“Come, let us walk to the cascades,” he suggested. “Just the three of us. You can tell Legolas what else you remembered.”

Elrohir nodded then suddenly started. “The three of us,” he repeated. “That was the way of it for us, wasn’t it? In Imladris and Mirkwood when it was still Eryn Galen.” He stared at the archer. “You were our best friend, Legolas!”

Legolas shared a quick look with Elladan. The older twin nodded and said, “Aye, he was. And he still is.”

Elrohir glanced at his brother then turned his eyes back to Legolas. “I understand now,” he whispered. “‘Tis no wonder I feel I can trust you in anything.”

He pressed his face against the base of the prince’s neck, innocently nuzzling the slight hollow therein in his need for comfort and affection.

Legolas just barely managed to quell the quiver in his body at the intimate contact. It was so hard not to declare outright that friendship was not the only thing he and the younger twin had shared. Elrohir in his thirty-third year already possessed the comeliness Legolas had found so utterly irresistible.

Though still a child on the cusp of adolescence, the Elf-knight was the very image of beauty, grace and agility. Not for him the awkwardness and uncertainty of early youth but a fluidity and confidence beyond his years.

Suddenly, Legolas comprehended how the twins had come by their reputation as virtuosos of the martial and carnal arts back in Middle-earth so early in their lives. The self-assurance with which they had met life head on had virtually ensured that they would master just about anything they put their minds to and do it swiftly, too.

Even now he beckons to me, Legolas thought in mingled awe and apprehension. The temptation to compel the twin to lift his face and meet his lips in a plundering caress was almost overwhelming. His eyes met Elladan’s once more.

The warrior instantly perceived his turmoil, saw the barely veiled desire in the sapphire pools. Understanding his friend’s dilemma, he swiftly moved to break the spell his brother had unknowingly cast upon the prince.

“Come, muindor”—brother—he softly invited, gently disengaging his twin from the archer. “Let us walk to the cascades together.”

Elrohir nodded and turned to his brother, missing the look of relief on Legolas’ face.

The three of them made their way into the forest and headed for the falls. There they settled themselves beneath the beeches and the younger twin related to the prince what had befallen him in the previous week. Of the dreams that had unlocked yet another door in the myriad passages of his fragmented recollections.

The arrival of the Ring in Rivendell and the forging of the Fellowship.

The dreadful journey through the Paths of the Dead and the fierce battles on the Pelennor Fields and before the Black Gate of Mordor.

The joyful wedding of Elessar and the Evenstar followed by his and Elladan’s choice to be of Elvenkind.

Eldarion’s birth in Minas Tirith and glimpses of his nephew’s childhood years.

Finally, he spoke of his memories of the sister he and Elladan had lost to love and the foster brother he had cherished despite his mortality. Of watching the latter pass away and witnessing the fading of the former though she had refused to let her brothers remain with her to the end. So woebegone was his countenance when he finished that Legolas forgot his physical yearnings and drew him into his arms simply to give him solace.

“She-she is gone,” Elrohir choked mournfully. “And Estel, too.” He trembled in the prince’s arms. “We will never see them again.”

Legolas stroked his dark head soothingly. “The spirits of Men leave the circles of the world upon their passing,” he quietly said. “Only Manwë and Námo know where they abide. But ‘tis said they join Eru the One and that we shall all be gathered together again at the ending of the world.”

“What about Eldarion? Does-does he still live?” The question was asked fearfully.

Elladan reached out and rubbed his back comfortingly. Like his father, Aragorn, Eldarion had worshipped Elrohir in his youth. “He is of the Edain and also of our line, Elrohir, and therefore even more long-lived than Estel. ‘Tis most likely that he still reigns in Gondor.”

“I hope so,” the boy whispered. He burrowed further into the prince’s embrace, seeking the warmth and security of their eternal friendship.

Legolas swallowed hard, once more feeling the treacherous desire rise up within him. But he could not deny Elrohir his comfort now. Shaking his head imperceptibly at Elladan’s silent offer to extricate him again from Elrohir’s tempting proximity, he stifled his passion and continued to hold the young Elf close. And when grateful twilight eyes lifted up to him, he found some measure of comfort and peace for himself.

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

Glossary:

Calenlass nîn - my Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

melethron - lover (m.)

Edhil - Elves

Ada - Papa

To be continued…
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight