Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4698 -:- 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
- 1-Meeting
- 2-Learning
- 3-Restraint
- 4-Coping
- 5-Guile
- 6-Awakening
- 7-Undoing
- 8-Musings
- 9-Sojourn
- 10-Reckoning
- 11-Illumination
- 12-Avowal
- 13-Beloved
- 14-Visitations
- 15-Tryst
- 16-Choice
- 17-Torn
- 18-Resolve
- 19-Voyage
- 20-Fate
- 16
- 17
- 18
Chapter XVII: Torn

Firith FA 33

How did one reckon time in an eternal land? How did a being endure the endless years, watching all else fade into history while one continued to be and evolve? How did the Elves stave off the weariness of life without surcease, life with all its sorrows as well as its joys? How could anyone bear the everlasting weight of uncounted years pressing down inexorably and without end?

Imrahil pondered these questions in the days that followed Elladan’s revelation of his fate. It was not as simple or easy a choice as one might expect. He had wondered why Elladan and his brother and sister had taken so long – nearly three thousand years – to make their choices. Had marveled at the folly of Elrond’s twin Elros for having chosen mortality. Had admired the Evenstar’s courage in abiding by the Doom of Man in the name of love yet at the same time questioned the worthiness of her sacrifice’s reward. It was a gift he had oft thought. Why would anyone hesitate to take it?

But now, faced with the same choice, he realized it was as much a curse as a gift. For its bestowal was contingent not on the irrefutable command of a higher power but on one’s own frail reasoning and changeable desires. If he made the wrong choice, there would be no one to fault save himself. None to rail at for his misery and regret. Except himself.

He finally understood the enormity of the Peredhil’s choice. Elrond had chosen immortality and lost his brother and only daughter to the clutches of time and space itself. Had nearly lost his sons as well but for the bonds of love that had tied Elrohir to Legolas and held Elladan to Elrohir.

He tried to imagine Elrond’s grief at parting with his daughter, knowing he would never see her again or hear her voice or feel her touch. He would not even know the essence of her spirit once she left this world for the great beyond to which no Elf save the Peredhil’s foremother Luthien had passed. For her soul was no longer linked with her parents’ or brothers’ but with Elessar’s to whom she was irrevocably bound. Such was the price paid for the love she bore him.

It was different for him and Elladan. Their souls belonged to each other and such a bond transcended even the barrier of human death. But that same bond would now sunder him from his children not only in the here and now but also in the eternal hereafter that was the lot of mortals. Bound as he was to Elladan, were he to take ship with him, he would bid farewell to these dearest of kin forever. The barrier of their eventual deaths would tear them apart for all time owned as he was by his Elven mate.

In one thing were his circumstances different from the Peredhil’s. He had received the offer of eternity after he had known the joy and fulfillment of paternity. Neither Elrond nor Elros had sired children at the time of their choosing. Both had chosen their paths for reasons of love, Elrond for the wisdom of and sense of oneness with the Firstborn, Elros for the woman who eventually became his Númenorean queen.

Love as well had persuaded Elrohir to tread his father’s path just as it had led Arwen down her uncle’s road. Elladan, though unfettered by a lover’s affections, had chosen as his twin because of the close bond between them, so close he could not subject Elrohir to endless grief at his loss.

Love. It was a recurring reason for the choices that had been made. But none had been torn between the love one bore for one’s mate and the love one carried for one’s children. The beloved fruit of his own loins. The babes he had cradled in his arms and tenderly sung to sleep. The little ones who had run to him for solace and protection during the fiercest ocean-spawned storms. The children who had presented to him another generation to love and cherish.

His children. Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos and Lothíriel. His grandchildren. From Alphros and his siblings to Elfwine and his sisters. And his first great-grandchild, Alphros’ eldest.

How could he part from them so wholly and permanently? Was Elladan’s love enough to give him the strength to endure their loss? Would the memory of their love and lives be enough to sustain him?

He recalled a conversation he’d had with Queen Arwen before they departed for Rohan to entrust King Theoden to the care of his forefathers. He had asked her then, rather boldly he had to admit, how she could have forsaken not only her immortality but her immortal kin as well. Could she not have wed Elessar then taken ship for Valinor as her brothers would one day do? Could she not have done as his foremother had? Bear her king his heirs then leave Middle-earth for the Blessed Realm?

“But all I would have of him then would be mere memory,” she had gravely answered. “Nay, I will go where he goes that our lives may continue together even beyond the circles of this world.”

It was then that he had reversed his opinion of her uncle’s folly and come to revere Elros for his courage and deep capacity for love instead. And now he could not help wondering what might have happened had he and Elladan loved each other before that fateful night. Would Elladan have chosen as his sister? Would history have been repeated – twins cloven apart by the sheer and irresistible force of love?

But it was fruitless to debate that now. The choice was no longer theirs but his. Imrahil sighed and rubbed his forehead vexedly with his fingers. Nearly four months had already passed and he was no closer to an answer than he had been at the start. He rose from behind his study desk and passed through the connecting door to his bedchamber.

It was past midnight and all was still and silent. His eyes strayed to his bed and softened at first sight of the beauteous Elf who lay between his sheets. He could not help a possessive smirk when he noted the telltale bruises that marked Elladan’s moonlit flesh. They trailed from his throat to his shoulders and chest and down to his belly to disappear beneath the cover that barely concealed his hips. The smirk grew more pronounced as Imrahil saw in his mind’s eye the remainder of those bruises and where they had been inflicted.

He groaned when he felt his loins stir with unmistakable desire. He stifled it hastily and moved toward his balcony instead. He had risen from bed to think, he sternly told himself. ‘Twas why he had secluded himself in the adjoining study. The sight of his sleeping mate in all his bared glory was simply too much of a temptation and did nothing for the clarity of his thoughts.

He stepped out onto the balcony and inhaled the crisp sea air. The moon was muted tonight and even the myriad stars could not shed enough light for him to see the ocean. But he could hear its alternating roar and murmur. He closed his eyes and let the sounds calm his soul.

He would not find his answer tonight, he acknowledged. Just as he had not found it in the past sixteen weeks. A part of him feared he would still be at a loss when the time of choosing came upon him and he would be forced to make a decision, for ill or good, wisely or not.

In all these anxious months, Elladan had always lent him succor. He had not attempted to force or coerce him into making a choice favorable to him. He had stayed true to his conviction that whatever Imrahil decided, it had to be for the prince’s good and no other’s. Just as Elrond had not pressured his children into making their decisions precipitately, so did Elladan now desist from hurrying Imrahil into one. It had indeed taken him and his siblings millennia to know their minds and hearts on this matter. He would not begrudge Imrahil even one day of the impossibly brief time given him to consider the same dilemma.

Most times, Imrahil was grateful for the Elf’s unconditional and undemanding support. But occasionally he wished Elladan would aggressively pursue his desire as he had pursued Imrahil twenty years ago. Such moments were quickly followed by shame that he should even think of subjecting his mate to reproach should he regret giving in to Elladan’s wishes.

“What did the others choose?” he once asked in frustration after a night plagued by troubling dreams. “Did any decide to join Elf-kind? Do you know?”

“Only one,” Elladan admitted. “Zimrakhôr.”

Imrahil stared at him in shocked cognizance. Of all those who had gone before him, only one had turned his back on his humanity and chosen the path of the Firstborn. It was not surprising. Zimrakhôr alone had been unwed and without progeny at the time of his passing. More elven than human in life, he’d had nothing to lose and everything to gain by choosing to be of Elf-kind.

“If you were free, would he approach you in Valinor?” Imrahil asked hesitantly.

“I do not know,” Elladan replied honestly. “But it is moot to consider that as I am not free.”

“Yet you would be alone if I—” Imrahil broke off then tried again. “I need to know, Elladan. Would you be forbidden to seek comfort from another?”

Elladan regarded him somberly. “There is no precedent for a binding such as ours,” he said. “My forefather Tuor was given the life of the Eldar by Eru himself and thus still lives in Aman with Idril his wife. I do not know if such a thing would be permitted that I should cast aside my vows to seek comfort elsewhere.”

“But you have spoken of the Doom of Finwë and Mîriel,” Imrahil mused. “Did she not choose to remain in the Halls of Awaiting eternally to allow Finwë to take Indis to wife?” When Elladan nodded, he said: “Could I not give you leave as she did him?”

Elladan gazed at him, sorrow blossoming in his eyes. “Is this your way of telling me that you have made your choice?” he softly asked.

Imrahil drew his breath in sharply. “Nay!” he exclaimed. “I have not yet made my decision. I only ask this for I need to know what will become of you should – should we part ways.” When Elladan only looked at him intently, he sighed and whispered: “Am I worth the pain, Elladan?”

He felt the Elf’s warm hand on his face, caressing his cheek with utmost tenderness. “I would not have taken you to mate if I had thought you unworthy,” he murmured. “And as for your offer – I could not accept it, Imrahil. I am yours whether you are with me or not. I cannot share myself with any other. I do not desire to.”

Imrahil shivered at the memory of Elladan's loving afterwards. Though no further along in resolving his problem, he felt his desire for his Elf-mate grow once more. He returned to his chamber.

Gazing down at Elladan, he felt his desire grow even deeper. Drawing a steadying breath, he surrendered to his need and shrugged off his robe. He pulled down the cover, his eyes glittering with love and lust as he did. He climbed into bed and, slipping between Elladan’s legs, breached his mate without much preamble.

Elladan stirred as he was pierced, then moaned as he was slowly roused from his dreams by the steady delving of his flesh. He opened his eyes dazedly and met Imrahil’s darkened gaze. He did not resist but gave himself unto his mate’s desire, wrapping his long legs around the prince’s waist and lifting his hips to meet the man’s quickening thrusts.

In their joinings there was as much comfort for the soul as there was satisfaction for the body.

********

Ethuil FA 34

Winter passed and spring slowly enfolded Belfalas in its gentler embrace. The coastal fief shed its drab raiment for the brighter-shaded hues of the unfolding season. Ships plied the sea once more in abundance, no longer impeded by perilous storms and uncertain waters. And everywhere the roads turned busy as numerous tradesmen, journeymen and messengers made their way to and from the seaward princedom.

With them came news from abroad as well as the resumption of various calls to duty and responsibilities.

One such missive reached Elladan just as he was finishing the noonday meal in company with Imrahil and his sons and daughter. Lothíriel had come to Dol Amroth to visit her father and brothers. Her children would follow in the summer.

Imrahil noted the frown that creased Elladan’s white brow as he read the letter. “Is it ill news?” he asked.

Elladan sighed and shook his head. He looked up at the prince, spared quick glances for the others. “‘Tis from Elrohir,” he quietly said. “He only wished to inform me of the definite date of our departure. Círdan wishes to leave no later than the end of September.”

Imrahil barely managed to keep his face from revealing his sudden distress. His children, however, had no need to conceal their surprise.

“Leave?” Lothíriel echoed. “For where, Lord Elladan?”

The Elf smiled sadly at her and said: “Valinor.”

There was a concerted gasp around the table. Imrahil’s children already knew about the Peredhil’s choice. Like their father, they had naught but deep admiration and respect for their Elven queen and the sacrifice she had made for her beloved husband’s sake. But they had not realized that the queen’s brothers would not be able to remain in Middle-earth indefinitely.

“Why must you go so soon?” Elphir asked curiously. “Are all the Elves leaving Middle-earth with you?”

Elladan shook his head. “‘Tis a pact we took that permitted my brother and me to remain in Middle-earth as long as we have,” he explained. “But now we must heed Círdan’s summons or risk being barred from Aman forever.” While the others murmured their regrets and dismay, he looked at Imrahil, his eyes conveying much more than what he actually said. “Elrohir and I must put our affairs in order that Rivendell may pass peacefully into history. I will have to return home at the end of spring.”

Imrahil thought his heart would burst from the anguish that suddenly assailed him. He dropped his eyes to his plate and kept it there until he felt himself in control of his emotions once more. Only then did he dare raise them and look at Elladan once more.

“Then we must ensure that the remainder of your stay here will be memorable,” he said. “Would that I could visit Rivendell one more time before you leave.”

Elladan gazed at him, a meaningful gleam in his pewter eyes. “If you do, you will have to come by the last week of August at the latest for it is almost a month’s ride to Mithlond. We must leave Imladris by then if we are to reach the Havens in time to take ship with Círdan.”

Imrahil winced inwardly at the subtle reminder of the limited time he had to make up his mind. But he only nodded and said: “I will keep that in mind.”

*******

Spring’s end neared and so did Elladan’s departure for the north. It was all Imrahil could do to keep himself from spending more time than was seemly in the Elf-lord’s company. But prince and warrior that he was, he soldiered on, doing his duty as ruler, diplomat and king’s counsellor, governing his fief and attending to its various affairs whether of state, trade or culture, and concealing the ever constant turmoil in his breast.

It had not grown easier at all to see his way. If anything, the closer the time of choosing drew, the harder it became for him to let go of all that he held dear to his heart. His children, his home, his people. Like it or not, to leave Middle-earth for Elvenhome would be as exile to him who had never even dreamed of setting foot in the Undying Lands, much less residing there for eternity.

“Will Celeborn take ship with you?” he asked Elladan during one of their frequent walks along the beach behind the castle.

Elladan shook his head. “Nay, he will most likely join Legolas when the time comes as will Legolas’ father, Thranduil.”

“But where will he reside when you are gone?” Imrahil wondered. “Surely he will not live alone in Rivendell.”

“He will return to his people in East Lórien,” Elladan said. “He never completely forsook them but has resided there every once in a while. At least, he will have Thranduil’s company until their time of departure comes.”

Imrahil felt an immeasurable sadness weigh down on him. The thought of the hidden vale passing into legend, its beauties and wonders slowly giving way before the onslaught of time, reduced to ancient ruins that would mystify generations of men to come… It was depressing to say the least. Yet it was the fate of immortals to see their life’s works slowly succumb to the ravages of the encroaching ages.

At least, mere men did not have to bear witness to the inevitable erosion of what they wrought in their lifetimes, he thought. Mortality was not without its graces or blessings.

Elladan came to his chamber the last night of his stay. Both knew it could be a parting for the present or forever. Elladan only requested one thing of him ere they melded their bodies together in ardent union.

“If you should choose my path, come to Rivendell, my prince,” he quietly said. “If not, a letter will suffice to inform me of your decision. I do not think I could bear to bid you farewell in the flesh.”

Stricken wordless by Elladan’s muted anxiety and sorrow, Imrahil could only nod his acquiescence.

They spent their final night together in nigh endless coupling. Unleashing all the passion within him, Elladan took him further than he ever had before until he thought he would surely die of the almost excruciating pleasure. When they parted their bodies for the last time, Imrahil was so spent he sank into deep slumber as soon as his mate enfolded him in his warm embrace.

But Elladan did not sleep. Instead he kept watch over his prince, committing to memory every detail of his fair countenance and form.

In the dark before dawn’s first light, he slid out of the bed. He dressed in silence, his eyes riveted on the sleeping man. When he was done, he took a moment to let his tears slide down his pale cheeks. In all these months, he had not let Imrahil see his dread and anguish. He could not, would not burden his love any more than he was already. But now, with their parting at hand, he could not hold his feelings at bay any longer.

Drawing his grey cloak about his shoulders, he continued to gaze at Imrahil. At last, he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to the prince’s temple. And then he raised the hood of his cloak to hide his tear-streaked countenance and slipped out of the room.

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

Glossary:

firith – Sindarin for late autumn, roughly October-November

ethuil – Sindarin for spring

To be continued...
- 16
- 17
- 18
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 - Hallowed Fate