Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Twilight Tales - The Captain's Guerdon	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8528 -:- 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
- 14
- 15
Chapter XIII

The 25th day of December dawned cold and grey; not the most encouraging of beginnings for the intrepid nine who comprised the Fellowship of the Ring. Each member of the seemingly ragtag company passed the last hours before departure in whatever way each deemed the time well spent.

Gandalf the Grey, de facto leader of the Company, busied himself in last minute discussions with Elrond and his counsellors. To him would fall much of the burden of seeing his Quest-companions through the problems that would surely plague their endeavor.

Frodo closeted himself with Bilbo for most of the morning, emerging eventually with his uncle's trusty knife Sting hanging snugly from his belt and a mithril shirt secreted under his nondescript clothes. The latter he did not mention to any, not even his faithful servant Sam or his cousins Merry and Pippin with whom he passed the remainder of the afternoon.

Gimli kept company with his father Glóin and the other Dwarves who had made the journey to Rivendell with them, fortifying himself against the prospect of travelling with two proud men, four trouble-prone hobbits, one wily wizard and, most annoying of all, a Mirkwood Elf!

Boromir of Gondor conferred briefly with the one other man in the Fellowship, but otherwise kept to himself. Soon after parting from his fellow warrior, Aragorn disappeared for a few hours and none could say wither he had taken himself. But then neither could any find the Evenstar who vanished almost at the same time as the Elfstone.

Elrohir entered the conservatory wherein were housed exotic blooms, plants and trees from the far lands of Rhûn and Harad. Celebrían had tended them herself when she still lived in Imladris. Arwen had taken over their care since. The Elf-knight searched amongst the varicolored flora until he found what he sought.

He quietly approached the woodland prince where the latter sat upon a settee fitted into a trellised alcove. Legolas raised his head, sensing the Elf-lord's presence. But he did not smile in welcome nor did his eyes brighten with delight. Elrohir sighed and sank down on the seat beside his woodland lover.

“You are still irate with me,” he softly said.

Legolas looked long at him then shook his golden head and laid it on Elrohir's shoulder. The twin relaxed in some relief and lifted a hand to stroke the prince's silky mane.

“I cannot stay angry with you for long,” Legolas murmured. “Indeed, I regret my show of temper. All it did was waste time that would have been better spent together. Forgive me, Elrohir.”

“Nay, there is nothing to forgive, melethen”-my love-the Elf-knight demurred soothingly. “You were upset and rightly so. I cannot fault you for reacting as you did.” He pressed his lips to Legolas' white brow. “I was so distraught that I neglected to consider your feelings about this matter.”

Legolas lifted his head and gazed at him with swimming eyes. The sight of his prince's distress wounded Elrohir to the core. He pulled him into a tight embrace, scattering kisses on his cheeks and fluttering eyelids. Legolas shivered with need at each sweet caress. When Elrohir drew back, he opened his eyes and regarded him in confusion and entreaty.

“Then why, Elrohir? Why must you delay your choice?” he anxiously asked. “I would that you assured me now, before I leave, that you will tread your father's path. You said you were mine!” This last was said with such fierce yearning that it was all Elrohir could do to stay himself from making an irrevocable pronouncement.

“I am yours - never doubt that, my heart,” he earnestly said. “But please, try to understand. It seems that I am all that now holds Elladan to that path. I had thought that he would choose as I because of-” He broke off and took a fortifying breath. “No matter, that hope is no more.” He cupped Legolas' face in his hands and gazed at him imploringly. “Arwen is already lost to us. Now it appears we will lose Elladan as well. But for so long as he believes that I might follow him instead, he may not renounce his immortality. Not yet.”

Legolas swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the immutability of the Peredhil's choice. He understood Elrohir's fear; knew his lover would deeply grieve the loss of his twin should they take different roads. And that was what frightened him beyond bearing - that Elrohir's loyalty to his brother might prove stronger than his devotion to his lover. That in the end, Legolas would be the one left behind to grieve.

“And if he does choose the other road?” he whispered. “Will you - will you forsake me for it as well?”

Elrohir was silent for the longest while as he contemplated his options. He looked upon Legolas' immaculately beautiful countenance, proud even in sorrow. He saw his lips tremble and the attempt to still them; felt the faint tremor in the slender body he held in his arms. The thought of Legolas walking into certain danger with this uncertainty hounding his every step and chiseling away at his resolution refused to fade away. Elrohir was a warrior to his very bones but even he could not bear to see his beloved reduced to such straits.

Though his own eyes stung with unshed tears and his throat ached with anticipated anguish, he said: “Nay, I will not forsake you. If he and I must part, then so be it. I will not leave you now that I have found you.”

His reward was the crush of soft lips against his, the wending of supple fingers in his dark hair and the scorch of a lean, withy body flush against his. It was enough to drive all other considerations from Elrohir's mind and supplant them with one all encompassing desire - to be joined with his forest prince ere they were parted for Elbereth only knew how long.

Oblivious of where they were, uncaring that they might be seen, they soon lay upon the stone floor, their unceremoniously shed garments shielding them from the cold, hard ground. Little time was spent in the initial stages of love-play - that would come later when they had expended some of their lust in this first fiery coupling.

With scarcely more than a spate of scalding kisses to pave the way, they were soon locked together in ecstasy's thrall, Elrohir driving deep into his Greenleaf, Legolas' long legs locked around the Elf-knight's waist, each urging the other to give or yield to the utmost with every melding of their mouths, every urgent clasp of their hands upon arm and flank and thigh and every lunge of their hips. The muffled sounds of their joining resounded faintly through the conservatory but neither Elf cared if some unwitting witness stumbled upon them.

Glorfindel had stepped out of the chamber as soon as he recognized the signs of full-fledged intimacy. But he could not lightly dismiss what he had seen and heard.

Elrond had requested that the Nine Walkers gather in the Hall of Fire just before dusk for a last round of formal farewells. It swiftly came to the captain's notice that, of all the Company, only Legolas had not been apprised of Elrond's summons. The prince was nowhere to be found and neither was the Lord Elrohir who might have some knowledge of his whereabouts.

Guessing quite correctly that the Wood-elf might have sought solace in the verdant environs of the conservatory, Glorfindel had duly made his way there, arriving just in time to hear the prince's heartbreaking plea. He had listened in stunned silence to their conversation, disbelief warring with alarm at the revelation of Elladan's unexpected change of course.

He would have departed then. But something in Legolas' almost desperate demeanor stayed him. And so he listened for a space, mesmerized by their complete honesty and total openness with each other despite the newness of their relationship. Even when Elrohir at last gave the woodland prince the assurance he craved, he found he could not move away. And so he watched the beginnings of their loving and was held spellbound - the very air seemed to crackle with the heat and energy of their intimacy. In that instant, he recognized in their easy and sensually charged rapport the same predestined bond that he had felt at first sight with Elladan.

A bond they embraced without any hesitation whatsoever.

He backed away then and hastened out of the conservatory, haunted by some ghost of a feeling he could not quite identify. Shoving it aside for the moment, he went in search of Elladan, troubled by his discovery.

He found the older twin soon enough, alone in one of the healing chambers, preparing a small pack of medicaments for Aragorn to take with him. That was not surprising for the Ranger was as much a healer as a soldier. After all, he had not only trained in Imladris but been raised by Elrond himself as one of his own.

He waited until Elladan had completed his task before making his presence known.

“I am done now, Glorfindel,” the older twin said as he closed the pack. “Do not tell me Father sent you to fetch me.”

The captain could not help a slight start, still capable of being surprised after all these years that Elladan could oft sense his presence before seeing or hearing him. Unless he was perturbed by some distracting problem, that is.

“Nay, that is not the reason I sought you,” he said as he strode to his lover. He wasted no time on niceties but bluntly stated: “It has come to my attention that you are considering the Gift of Men.”

Elladan caught his breath, slightly taken aback that Glorfindel should have learned of his decision before he had a chance to inform him of it. Yet he did not flinch under the captain's flinty stare but only gravely met it.

“Indeed, I am,” he admitted. He sighed when the warrior's eyes widened in patent incredulity. “I am sorry, Glorfindel, I had hoped to inform you of this myself.”

“When, Elladan?” Glorfindel snapped. “When the deed was done?”

Elladan shook his head. “I would not offend you in that manner,” he said. “I would have told you as soon as the Company departed. When there was time enough for us to properly talk.”

Glorfindel could not fault his logic. The past week had been hectic to put it mildly. None had been spared amongst the chief Elves of Elrond's household in the preparations for the Quest - from the healers to the counsellors to the Elf-smiths and warriors. In truth, since the brethren's return from Lórien, he and Elladan had been hard-pressed to keep their nights free even for the most cursory of couplings, much less hold any conversations of considerable depth and length. It was a wonder that Elrohir and Legolas had somehow managed to garner more time for each other. The two were incredibly resourceful. Or mayhap simply shameless in their passion if their tryst in the conservatory was any indication.

“I suppose it was not feasible then,” he conceded. “But there is time enough now - the others have yet to assemble in the Hall of Fire.” He looked searchingly at Elladan. “So tell me, pen neth”-young one. “Why would you even consider such a fate?”

Elladan looked back at him, pewter eyes glistening oddly. “What is there in this life to hold me to it for an endless eternity?” he asked.

Glorfindel stared at him in shock. “Are your parents and brother not reason enough?” he demanded.

The twin shrugged with a nonchalance that irked Glorfindel though, for the life of him, he did not know why. “They have their own lives to contend with. Even Elrohir,” Elladan pointed out.

“Have you given thought to how deeply this will pain Elrohir?” he said accusingly. “Already it has come between him and Legolas.” At Elladan's inquiring look, he added: “They nearly quarreled because of this. You know your brother will deem it nigh impossible to desert you.”

Elladan's eyes dimmed for a moment. But only for a moment. They soon regained their serene glimmer and he simply said: “I will make him understand that it will be wiser for him to do so.”

Glorfindel scowled. “You would leave those who love you to mourn your loss?” he harshly questioned.

Elladan calmly replied: “Only for a time. They will forget the grief and move on with their lives. Father and Mother will comfort each other and Elrohir has Legolas.”

Glorfindel pursed his lips. He did not quite know what to make of Elladan's equanimity. It was almost maddening to say the least. “You do not mention me,” he tightly said.

Elegant, raven eyebrows rose in inquiry. “Will you grieve for me, Glorfindel?” Elladan asked. The captain nearly gasped, his lover's skepticism as searing as a knife in his gut.

“That is without question, Elladan!” he exclaimed.

“Truly?” Elladan responded. “I had thought you would be relieved.”

This time Glorfindel did gasp. “Do you think me a monster that I would welcome your loss?” he growled.

Elladan shook his head. “Nay, but you cannot deny that it would release you from the obligation you have felt you owed me all these years.”

“Obligation?” Glorfindel nearly choked on the word. “The pox take your tongue, you have never been an obligation!”

“Then what am I?” Elladan softly challenged. “You would have me believe that I am more than your lover yet you still have to own me your love.” When Glorfindel stared at him in consternation, he smiled sadly. “It is as I thought,” he murmured. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and convince my stubborn brother not to wait on my choice before making his.”

He departed from the chamber, leaving Glorfindel to mutely stare after him in horrified comprehension.

*********

They silently watched as the Nine walked out of the Last Homely House's courtyard. Out into peril under cover of darkness. Of the nine, three looked back ere they vanished into the night.

Frodo managed a heartening smile for Bilbo who stood by Elrond's side, his teeth chattering with the cold.

Aragorn paused to snatch one last glimpse of Arwen, using it to buttress his determination to see this journey to its end.

And Legolas halted a moment to turn and lock gazes with Elrohir. He lifted his hand in one last farewell. The gesture was returned. In that brief while a promise earlier made was silently reiterated.

Glorfindel watched them impassively enough though his heart skipped as he espied the silver rings on their upraised hands. He glanced at Elladan and noted how the older twin averted his eyes from their tender exchange and the tangible evidence of their avowed love. But not before Glorfindel saw his envy of his brother's good fortune.

When the Company had disappeared, Elrohir turned to Elladan and curled an arm around him. He shepherded his brother into the house. But as they passed Glorfindel, the younger twin suddenly looked at him. The captain braced himself for a verbal sample of Elrohir's quick temper or a glare of condemnation. But to his surprise, the Elf-knight did neither. Instead, his argent eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pity.

Glorfindel blinked. Of all the responses he might have expected from Elrohir, pity had never been one of them.

Pity for what?

He watched the brethren enter the house. It was dim inside for Elrond had ordered that almost all the lamps and torches be extinguished. Light was not only most unfitting a setting for the start of the Ring-bearer's quest, it was also dangerous. Henceforth, the dark would be the Fellowship's best ally as they travelled south, hopefully unmarked for the longest time.

The twins disappeared into the gloom within. Something about the imagery evoked an old memory - a memory Glorfindel had long suppressed for the grief and uncertainty it always caused him.

Of a shadowed doorway wrapped in silence. And a tall somber figure beckoning to him. And the passage into dimly lit halls and chambers. A world of shades and whispers where peace was the reward of the blameless and imposed contemplation the lot of the fallen.

Glorfindel drew in his breath sharply as he recalled with startling clarity a place he hoped never to visit again. For while the Halls of Awaiting were a healing haven for elven souls, it was still a realm apart. Where one could not escape the knowledge that one no longer walked amongst the living. Could feel the sun's golden warmth upon one's skin no more or the taste of heady wine on one's tongue. The salt of tears on flushed cheeks and laughter ringing in one's ears. And the heat of two bodies molded against each other in bliss.

He shook his head as if to clear it of his unbidden recollections. No, it was not a place he wished to know a second time!

Anymore than he wished for Elladan to know the place where men's spirits abided, he realized with shock. A profound sense of bereavement overcame him followed by a dread and an ache that settled in his heart and refused to depart.

Without warning, he felt the fear that he had known when he heard the sentries' horns sound over Gondolin, just seconds before the deluge began. He'd known in that moment that time had finally run out on the hidden city and on all chances of healing wounds that still lay raw and open. That same terrible prescience afflicted him now, taunting him as it had then. Once again, time was running out. If he did not act at once, he would know loss and grief and heartwrenching regret anon.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could not endure that again.

Hastening into the house before his resolve failed, Glorfindel made his way to his bedchamber, almost sprinting when he neared it. Entering, he walked to his wardrobe. Hesitating for just the briefest moment, he opened the largest compartment and withdrew from its depths a thick book. Not the one Elladan had oft caught him perusing in Elrond's library but a larger, heavier tome bound in fine leather overlaid with gold leaf. It was readily apparent that this volume had not been opened in years, much less read.

Seating himself upon his bed, Glorfindel laid the book before him on the sapphire-hued counterpane. The delicately embroidered emblem of Gondolin's House of the Golden Flower lay directly beneath it, forming a muted gold and silver backdrop. For several minutes he stared at the volume, quailing at the prospect of confronting what lay within its gilt-edged pages. There was no doubting his valor in facing demons without. But did he have the courage to confront the demons within?

He took a deep bracing breath and slowly opened the book.

To be continued…
- 13
- 14
- 15
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Twilight Tales - The Captain's Guerdon