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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 XV: Love’s Labor

“It is indeed fortunate you were nearby when he recalled his passing,” Gandalf commented.

Legolas nodded somberly, his eyes never leaving Elrohir as the latter spoke with his parents.

It was the afternoon after the Elf-knight’s harrowing recollection of his death in Middle-earth. He had been so disturbed by the memory that he had kept to his room with only Elladan and Legolas for company. Not even to his parents could he bring himself to speak of his experience so soon.

That was not surprising. It was not the first time a re-born Elf had been shaken to the core of his or her being by such a memory. It would not be the last. And so Celebrian simply arranged for their meals to be sent to the younger twin’s chamber while Elrond prepared a mild sleeping draught to ensure peaceful slumber for his son for the coming night.

Elrohir finally emerged from his room that afternoon and appeared in the Hall of Fire, flanked by his brother and best friend. Ensconced in the hearthside couch, Elrond and Celebrian had been entertaining a visiting Mithrandir who sat in the chair opposite them.

Nimeithel and her sons were settled in one corner – the woodland princess absorbed in a book on herb lore while Elendir and Elros indulged in a four-way game of Realms with Lindir and Glorfindel. Erestor, on the other hand, had taken advantage of the lull in his full day and was dozing in the cozy armchair behind them.

As soon as Celebrian clapped her eyes on her younger son, she opened her warm arms to him. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Elrohir hastened into them. Elladan and Legolas watched in relief as he nestled trustingly in his mother’s embrace while he related to his father all that he had gone through the night before. Elrond listened intently, clasping Elrohir’s hands comfortingly in his own.

After a while, Elladan had excused himself and joined his family. But Gandalf had risen and taken his place at Legolas’ side. He now regarded the prince with some concern.

“Are you all right, Legolas?” he gently inquired. “You seem quite disheartened.”

Legolas sighed. “‘Tis only that this marks the end of my stay in Artirion,” he explained. “I promised him I would dwell here until he recalled that moment. Now that he has...” He bit his lip. “I will miss being with him every day.”

“‘Tis the closest you have felt to being his mate again,” Gandalf softly observed.

Legolas drew a pensive breath. “I will be alone again, Mithrandir.”

“I have heard tales of the many who extol your graces,” Gandalf remarked. “Have you ever thought to assuage your loneliness through them?”

Legolas frowned. “I cannot,” he said.

“Elrohir would not fault you.”

Legolas smiled faintly, remembering his Twilight’s avowal of unconditional love. “He would not,” he agreed. “But I do not desire another. I would only wound myself further were I to take another to our bed for mere release. The guilt and loathing after...” He shook his head vehemently. “With what little strength I possess, I would rather await my Elf-knight’s full return than compromise myself so basely.”

Gandalf smiled back at him. “You have more strength than you think, Legolas,” he told the archer. “Elrohir will love you ever more deeply when the time comes.” The Istar suddenly chuckled mischievously. “I pray you will manage to survive it!”

Legolas found himself blushing at his old friend’s unexpected suggestive jest but he grinned with pleasure nonetheless.

********

The eve of his departure, Elrohir came to his room to help him finish packing his things. The young warrior looked positively morose and when he sat himself silently on the bedside divan, there was no mistaking his unhappiness.

Legolas came to sit beside him. “Elrohir, what is wrong?” he murmured, taking the other’s hands into his own.

Elrohir pursed his lips in displeasure. “I only wish you did not have to leave,” he said. “I will miss you terribly.”

Though he heartily agreed with Elrohir’s sentiments, Legolas tried to be encouraging. “I will visit you as often as my duties allow. And you will always be welcome in Taur Galen and for as long as you desire.”

“But it is not the same as having you live in the same house as I,” Elrohir pointed out. He suddenly swallowed hard. “I am sorry. I have no right to burden you so when I imagine you must be anxious to return home.”

He looked away, his mouth tightening further to still its trembling. Legolas reached out and cupped his chin; he compelled the Elf-knight to return his gaze.

“Nay, I am not anxious at all,” Legolas said softly. “I, too, will miss seeing you every day, Elrohir. If not for duty, I would stay on for as long as you desire. But seven years is far more than my father can spare me. Until my brothers join us, I am all he has of his children.”

Elrohir swallowed again then nodded in resignation. “I know, Legolas,” he whispered.

His woebegone expression nearly broke the archer’s heart. On impulse, he drew Elrohir into the curve of his arm and let the darkling Elf lean his head on his shoulder.

To his surprise, Elrohir stiffened then pulled away, his eyes riveted on Legolas’ right hand. The archer glanced down then caught his breath in dismay. There on his index finger was the object that had snared Elrohir’s attention. His binding-ring.

Legolas was disconcerted by his carelessness. Since Elrohir had grown old enough to be aware of the marital traditions of Elvenkind, he had prudently refrained from wearing his binding ring when the Elf-knight was present. But this evening, as he had readied his things for packing, he had absent-mindedly put in on and neglected to remove it when Elrohir entered his room.

“Legolas?” the Elf-knight hesitantly said. He fingered the gold band on the archer’s right index finger. “Is this – are you – wed?”

Legolas drew in a steadying breath. “Nay, not wed but – bound,” he clarified.

Elrohir’s eyes widened. “Bound?” he choked. “To another ellon?”—male Elf? At the prince’s hesitant nod, he shook his head a little disbelievingly. “The speed of my recovery leaves much to be desired if I have not yet remembered such a momentous change in your life,” he wryly commented. “I pray I shall regain wholeness ere much longer.”

Legolas nearly gaped at him, so startled was he by this evidence that Elrohir remembered the old proscription in Greenwood of the ancient path.

“‘Tis my prayer as well,” he replied with heartfelt agreement

Elrohir frowned. Somehow, he felt uneasy knowing the prince had a mate though he could not pinpoint the reason for his discomfort. He took up Legolas’ right hand, thumbing the gold ring.

“It is alike to Nimeithel’s wedding band. How is it that you bear a ring exactly like the one Elladan bestowed upon your sister?” he asked.

Legolas felt a twinge of alarm singe his nerves. “What did Elladan tell you about Nimeithel’s ring?” he countered.

Elrohir shook his head. “Nothing,” he admitted. “I assumed it was an heirloom of our house but now...” He stared at the band on Legolas’ finger again, confusion shadowing his eyes.

Legolas thought quickly. “The rings were forged as a pair,” he explained. “Elladan chose one, my mate took the other.” It was not the complete truth but it was no lie either. He would have to tell Elladan of his ruse.

“I see. But, Legolas, why have I not met your spouse after all these years?” Elrohir asked, a mystified frown marring his brow.

Legolas bit his lip. “‘Tis because I had to leave him in Middle-earth.”

“Leave him? Why—?” The twin cut himself off at the look of distress that appeared in the archer’s eyes. Though curious about the reason behind the other’s discomfort, he did not press on. “Forgive me, I should not pry.” But after a decent pause, he could not help asking, “Did I know him?”

“Very well,” Legolas replied, forcing a smile.

“What is his name?”

“His name would mean nothing to you,” Legolas replied evasively. “When you have recalled all your past life, I will tell you then.”

Elrohir was puzzled by his friend’s reticence but decided to let it go. Something else, however, bothered him. “If you are bound, why do others still pursue you? Have they no respect for your spouse?”

Legolas shrugged. “They have their reasons, reprehensible though some may be. But I can assure you, they pursue me in vain.”

“Good,” Elrohir smiled. “I may have been a rogue but I do believe in fidelity between binding-mates. May I assume then that he will join you soon?”

Legolas hesitated. He decided a portion of the truth would do no harm. “Not yet,” he said softly. “He passed into the Halls of Mandos years ago when we still resided in Middle-earth.”

Elrohir stared at him in dismay. “Ai, I am so sorry. I did not mean to trouble you.”

Legolas shook his head. “You did not know,” he said, his voice catching.

Elrohir gazed at him with compassion. “You still grieve for him,” he murmured. “You must have shared a great love.”

“We did,” Legolas said. “I never thought I would know anything like it.”

“It must be wonderful to know a love like that,” Elrohir mused. “I envy you, Legolas.”

“You would not if you knew how much pain it can bring,” the prince replied, suddenly bitter. “I guarded my heart for so long precisely because I did not want to know this grief.”

The twin looked at him with empathic sorrow. “Do you regret then that you gave your heart away?”

Legolas heaved a disconsolate sigh. “Nay, I regret nothing,” he said. “If I sounded bitter, ‘tis only because the waiting can be unbearably long and bleak.” He looked down at his hand and the gold band.

“But you will have him again,” Elrohir said softly. “It may take unbearably long as you say but you will be together again.”

Legolas willed himself to keep still, to refrain from drawing the twin into his arms much as he longed to.

“I wonder what he was like,” Elrohir remarked. “He must have been very special indeed to affect you thus with his loss.”

Legolas stared at him. There had been the slightest tinge of jealousy in the other’s tone. Whether it was just the twin’s discomfort at thinking himself displaced in his friend’s affections or a vestige of the Elf-knight’s legendary territoriality did not matter. It was soothing to be the object of the twin’s possessiveness once more.

Daring just a little more candidness, he said, “Actually, he was very much like you.”

Elrohir had to gasp. “You chose one akin to me?” he chuckled. “To take on someone like that must have taken unprecedented courage not to mention a goodly sense of humor!”

Legolas had to smile at the other’s unknowing summing up of his own self. “I did not stand much of a chance. He pursued me quite relentlessly.” He paused. “Much as you would have done in the same position.”

Elrohir shook his head, bemused and amused. “As long as he treated you well,” he finally said. “And I assume he did since you pine for him so fervently.” He glanced at the archer, wondered at the fondness with which the other regarded him. “And when he returns to you he had better continue to treat you so,” he continued softly. “For if he does not, I will personally send him to Námo’s halls a second time!”

There was no mistaking the raw emotion in the twin’s tone. It betrayed the depth of his caring for Legolas as a friend. Would that the archer could soon add lover to the list of roles the twin played in his life.

On impulse, he drew out from underneath his shirt the chain upon which the Elf-warrior’s ring hung. He removed it from his neck and held it in his hand. “‘Tis his ring,” he whispered. He looked at the twin and drew a deep breath. “I would ask a favor of you, Elrohir.”

“Anything.”

“Will you take this and keep it against the day when he will be returned to me?”

Elrohir stared at him. “Why me?” he asked nonplussed. “Should you not keep it?”

Legolas tried to smile. “Do not ask me why,” he murmured. “Please, just take it.” He took Elrohir’s hand and placed the ring on its chain in the other’s palm.

Elrohir gazed in silence at the band for a long while. Studied the intertwined leaves of gold and mithril and the single emerald in the center, beautiful in its clarity and the purity of its color.

“This is of dwarven make,” he said suddenly. “Did Gimli make this for you?”

Legolas nodded. “‘Twas his nuptial gift to us.”

Unaware of the implicit meaning of Legolas’ reply, Elrohir raised a finger and stroked the finely wrought leaves on the band. For some reason, he thought the ring so precious as to be priceless and closed his fingers almost reverently around it. He looked up at Legolas and saw the other’s eyes were glistening brightly.

He raised his hand and, with his thumb, wiped away a single tear that threatened to trickle down the prince’s cheek. “I will keep this for you,” he promised. He drew Legolas into a comforting embrace. It took all of the archer’s will not to return the embrace over ardently.

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