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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 12116 -:- 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-Advent
- 2-Bridging
- 3-Pledges
- 4-Serendipity
- 5-Deepening
- 6-Request
- 7-Bedfellows
- 8-Liaison
- 9-Catalyst
- 10-Tidings
- 11-Profession
- 12-Rift
- 13-Seeking
- 14-Confluence
- 15-Oneness
- 16-Assignation
- 17-Covenant
- 18-Gambit
- 19-Recovery
- 20-Bond
- 16
- 17
- 18
Chapter XVII: Covenant

A prince by birth and a warrior by inclination, Legolas did not as a rule frequent any place of healing save in instances of great necessity. So it was quite understandable why Elladan snickered when he observed the Wood-elf as the latter went about Minas Tirith’s Houses of Healing, helping where he could. But then again, Elrohir, too, was about in this noble place and that was enough reason for Legolas to be there.

The brethren were healers as well as soldier-princes and they had come to the Houses of Healing this last morning before the march to Mordor. Either by the skill of their hands or the comfort of their words and smiles, they set many on the path to healing soonest whether of body or spirit. Small wonder that their care was avidly sought.

Loathe to part from Elrohir even for a few hours, Legolas had put aside his usual aversion to these hallowed halls and offered his services as well. With an Elf’s natural affinity for giving aid in whatever form, he performed the tasks assigned to him with minimal fuss and only the occasional grimace.

This was most evident when he brought Merry’s second breakfast to him for the hobbit was busy puffing up a storm with his cousin Pippin. The archer had never learned to tolerate the odor of pipe-weed even during the arduous months of the Quest. It was not likely he would suddenly learn to like it now. And so he exchanged greetings with his friends, ensured everything was well with them and hurried out of the room, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Elrohir came upon him in this state and, learning of the reason for his scowl, grinningly led him aside to a quiet alcove with a window overlooking the garden. Here they sat in silence for a while, their hands sliding across the stone seat to each other until they met and their fingers entwined. Elrohir raised Legolas’ hand and pressed kisses to its palm. The archer regarded him with gleaming eyes, shivering slightly from the sensation of the Elf-knight’s lips softly caressing his skin.

At length, Elrohir lifted his eyes to the prince and Legolas saw that he was engrossed in some deep thought.

“What is it?” he quietly asked.

Elrohir smiled slightly. “We march into the unknown tomorrow, Legolas,” he murmured. “We may prevail or we may fail, either one of us or both. I do not fear death but losing you I do fear and more than all the horrors of Mordor. Yet so long as our spirits still touched I would be comforted whether ‘tis I who must pass into the Halls of Awaiting or the one who remains behind or even should we both fall and leave this world together.” He marked Legolas’ rapt attention and his smile widened. It was clear the archer was already anticipating his proposal. “In light of this, would you consider—?”

“Binding myself to you!” Legolas quickly finished for him, his eyes glittering with deep joy. “Oh, aye, pen vuil.”—dear one. “When would you have the deed done? Tonight?”

Elrohir laughed softly at his prince’s eagerness and nodded. “I have spoken with Mithrandir and he suggested a hidden field at the foot of Mindolluin where no sentries roam.”

He reached into his tunic and drew out a small leather pouch. He emptied it into his hand. Legolas caught his breath.

Two gold bands lay in the Elf-knight’s palm. They were plain save for elvish inscriptions along the middle of each ring. The archer did not need to read them to know they were their linked names.

“I had them made as soon as I read your letter,” Elrohir softly explained.

Legolas felt his heart skip a beat in his elation. “Then Elladan was right,” he whispered. “You came, ready to make me yours.” He touched his forehead to Elrohir’s and laid his hand atop the Elf-knight’s, enclosing the rings between their palms. “And I am more than ready to make you mine, seron vell.”—beloved.

Elrohir’s finger slid beneath his chin and lifted it. They shared a sweetly fervent kiss. Legolas nestled his golden head on his lover’s shoulder. “Let Sauron do his worst,” he softly declared. “He will not sunder us now; not in this life or the next.”

*******

“You Elves are a strange folk. I can understand bloodletting to ratify a treaty or pact. But to seal marriage vows?? That is barbaric beyond belief!”

The patent incredulity in Gimli’s voice made Legolas smirk. They were slowly making their way to the isolated clearing at the base of Mindolluin mentioned by Gandalf.

“A marriage vow is a pact of another sort,” he mildly pointed out. “And what is more barbaric? The simple cutting of our palms or writing out a contract in ink mixed with one’s blood as I’ve heard the Easterlings do?”

Gimli thought about that then shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. So, you slash your palms and clasp hands?”

“Aye, and ‘tis then that we speak our joint vow.”

“And you are certain the Powers are listening?”

“We would not begin unless we felt their presence. I cannot explain to you how we know,” he said noting the Dwarf’s somewhat skeptical expression. “We just do.”

Gimli sighed. “I’ll take your word for it.” After a pause, he added gruffly, “And I’m honored you asked me to stand as your kin.”

Legolas smiled and was about to reply when of a sudden a star peered out from behind the sooty clouds. Before their startled eyes, it waxed bright and strong, its light shining down upon something ahead of them.

“Ho, what is happening?” Gimli wondered as they hastened toward the spot.

“‘Tis Eärendil,” Legolas said in awe and reverence. “The brethren’s grandsire. By why does he shine so brightly this night?”

They caught their breaths when they saw the twins in the small clearing at Mindolluin’s feet. They were both down on one knee before Gandalf, clothed in simple tunics and long breeches, Elladan in pale grey, Elrohir in white. Gandalf held his hands outstretched over them as if in benediction. And the light of the Mariner shone upon them with uncommon brightness before retreating once more behind the clouds.

Legolas hurried forward, Gimli hard on his heels. As they neared the three, Elladan and Elrohir rose and turned to meet them. About to speak, Legolas suddenly saw their eyes. An unearthly light flickered in their pewter depths for the briefest of moments. The truth struck him with the force of a storm’s buffet.

“The choice!” he gasped. “You have made it!”

The brethren smiled at him. Elrohir took his hand and clasped it hard. “Aye, beloved. My binding gift to you.”

“Sweet Eru, you did not tell me!” the archer sputtered.

“Tell you what?” Gimli demanded in bewilderment. “What choice?”

Gandalf smoothly interrupted. “Explanations will come later, my good Gimli,” he said. “We do not have the luxury of time.”

Gimli acceded and watched his friend take his place by the Elf-lord’s side. Quietly, solemnly, they named each and every one of the Valar, asking them to bear witness to their troth. And then they invoked the name of the One, of Eru almighty, that he might bless their union.

Suddenly, the very air grew still and not a sound was to be heard. Not even so much as the chirp of a cricket. Gimli felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand – he could not say how but he sensed other presences about. And he felt as if he were on the edge of a chasm from the acute feeling of anticipation that lanced through him.

He looked on in fascination as they individually uttered the first of the vows, slipping the gold bands on each other’s fingers as they did. Watched as Elladan silently handed a small dagger to Elrohir. Blew out his breath when the younger twin unhesitatingly drew it across his palm. At once the rich red of his blood welled up from the wound. The warrior offered the knife to the archer.

Legolas did likewise, the only sign of discomfort the slightest tightening of his mouth as the sharp steel bit into his flesh. They clasped their hands, bleeding palm pressed against bleeding palm. Gimli could not help a grimace when he glimpsed the mingled crimson that seeped from between their joined hands to trickle down their wrists.

Together now, they completed the oaths of binding that were as terrible as they were wondrous. Implacable, unbreakable, eternal.

No sooner had they finished speaking than thought and feeling flowed between them. Legolas caught his breath when he glimpsed memories of Elrohir’s life from before his birth and felt his regard for his Elf-knight deepen even further. His own relatively briefer existence was no less enchanting to behold as Elrohir caught up with the long years he had missed of the archer’s growth from an worshipful Elfling to a passionate warrior-prince.

A touch on their shoulders from Gandalf called them from their otherworldly trance, gentle words from the wizard drawing them back to the present.

“The night grows old,” he fondly said. “Do not waste a moment of it.”

There could be no nuptial feast; not in this time and place. But Elladan had thoughtfully procured a bottled of fine wine from the last stores to be had in the city. He brought it out now along with drinking cups. With a roguish flourish, he led the customary nuptial toast, a teasing aside to his brother to “make certain that Legolas can still ride tomorrow” earning him a clout from the crimson-faced archer. Legolas did not blush easily but, by Elbereth, Elladan’s fiendish tongue could and oft did discomfit him.

*******

Legolas gasped helplessly as he was relentlessly breached. He was on his elbows and knees, his hands gripping the bed linen so tightly, he thought it would rip apart. Soft raven silk spilled over his shoulders to mingle with the golden satin of his own tresses. He moaned when Elrohir reached around him and stroked him repeatedly. Held in the younger twin’s powerful arms, he could do naught but bear the brunt of his brutally sensual charge; do no more than endure the brisk caresses upon his shaft.

Waves of rapture rolled over him and through him and all about him. Rapture that was no longer his alone but shared with the one to whom he was now bound. It overwhelmed him and his Elf-knight. In less time than he was used to, he spent himself, crying out with each spurt of his seed on the sheets. Elrohir swiftly followed him into the mindless bliss of culmination. They all but collapsed, Elrohir just barely retaining some presence of mind to roll them on their sides, slowly withdrawing from Legolas they did.

They lay in the hush darkness, enjoying each other’s closeness. The only light was the faint glimmering of their bodies as their inner flames burned high and steadily, stoked by their avowed passion and love.

Gandalf had insisted that they take the room he and Pippin had stayed in since their advent in Minas Tirith. The hobbit would spend this last night in the barracks of the Company of the Guard of the Citadel with his human comrades-in-arms. Gandalf had accepted Gimli’s invitation to take Legolas’ place in their tent though whether the wizard would sleep at all was doubtful. And so they had the whole night to themselves and all the privacy they could ask for. The house was deserted – its remaining occupants had left the City for safer environs after the dearly bought victory on the Pelennor.

His breathing near normal once more, Legolas lifted his tousled head and looked down on his darkling spouse. A deep welling of emotion rose within him as the reality of their binding came to him all over again. His lifelong bond with Elrohir had finally come to its fruition when they exchanged their vows. His Elf-knight was now both his treasured friend and forever mate.

He frowned then, recalling of a sudden the constraints laid upon the Peredhil. In all their years together, it was a subject they had not really spoken of. He vaguely remembered the one and only time Elrohir had told him of it. Since then, the Elf-knight had not broached the matter again. He wondered why. And he had to know as well the repercussions of a decision he had made just the day before.

“Elrohir? About what you and Elladan did tonight,“ he said tentatively. “I’ve always been aware of the choice you had to make. But I did not truly think about it. You did not speak of it with me.”

“There was no need,” Elrohir said. “I made it long before. Only the formal avowal needed to be declared.”

“You never doubted your path?” the archer asked anxiously. “Tell me the truth.”

“I will not deny I wavered when I thought you did not return my love,” Elrohir said honestly. He hastened to add when Legolas flinched, “But ‘twas only that once. Even did you love another, I knew you would still seek my friendship and counsel. I could not forsake you, Legolas.”

The archer digested this somberly. “Then why did you wait until now to seal your choice?”

“Because of Elladan. He had not yet chosen his road. I could not risk making mine only to have him choose the other. For so long as he believed I might follow him for no other reason than to keep from losing him, he would not choose as Elros did. But this morning, he told me he would follow me.” Elrohir smiled. “‘Twas he who suggested I made a gift of it to you.”

Legolas smiled back. “‘Twas a wondrous gift,” he murmured, bending to nuzzle the warrior’s throat. And then he stopped and glanced up, the smile fading from his lips.

“Now that you have chosen ere your father’s leave-taking of Middle-earth…” he murmured. “Should we prevail, will he remain in Middle-earth to help heal its hurts?” His voice was curiously hopeful. Almost urgently so.

Elrohir sighed. “I very much doubt it. He is weary beyond measure though he hides it well. Were my mother still by his side, mayhap he would. She was ever his greatest source of strength. He longs for her ceaselessly. I do not think he will delay their reunion a day longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“But you? Will you still need to sail with him?”

“I believe so.” Elrohir noted Legolas’ sudden pallor. “What is wrong?” he asked with a concerned frown.

The prince bit his lip. “During the Quest, Gimli and I developed a great devotion for Aragorn,” he explained haltingly. “We longed to do what we could to help him in his labors. And so yesterday, we approached him and pledged to help him rebuild Gondor in whatever way we can. We promised to bring some of our folk south to aid him in this endeavor.”

Elrohir gazed at him in some surprise. “But that is so generous of both of you,” he said warmly. “Elbereth knows Estel will need the help. Would that Elladan and I could stay on and aid him as well.”

“You do not yet know the whole of it,” Legolas said nervously. “We – we vowed to serve him for the entirety of his reign. I – I will not be able to leave Middle-earth until he passes away.”

Elrohir went absolutely still then. He stared at Legolas in silence, grey eyes wide with shock. And then to the archer’s consternation, he turned his face away. Legolas laid a hand on his arm, stroking it placatingly.

“I know I should have consulted you before making such a decision,” he murmured guiltily. “But I had forgotten about the conditions set around your choice. I assumed you would always be with me. I am sorry, meleth.”—love.

When Elrohir did not respond, he felt his anxiety wax to a gnawing fear. He knew that this could trigger another rift between them. And it was not the probable separation that troubled Elrohir but rather the thought that Legolas was wholly capable of making such momentous decisions without discussing them with him first. He had already done so when he offered to join the Fellowship thereby setting off their first major quarrel.

A more minor decision had been his pact with Gimli that he would visit the Glittering Caves if his Dwarf-friend would come to Fangorn with him in turn. That is if their side had the victory and they both survived the battles to come. Elrohir had shaken his head in resignation upon finding out but only mildly chided him for developing a belated case of wanderlust.

But now he had done it again. Legolas cringed inwardly. Elrohir could very well come to resent his impetuosity. He had seldom taken Legolas to task about this before, believing he had no right to rein in the archer’s enthusiasm. They were friends after all, not true lovers. But from the moment they had become lovers in the full sense of the word, it became both their rights to have part in whatever decisions they might make that would affect them as a couple.

Legolas had not considered this when he made these latter decisions. Now he lay by Elrohir’s side, trying to gauge the depth of his mate’s displeasure with him. After a long while, he laid his head on the warrior’s shoulder, closing his eyes against the sting of frightened tears.

“You are angry,” he whispered dolefully. “I cannot blame you.”

He sensed Elrohir’s eyes upon him but he did not dare look up lest he see the twin’s certain ire. But Elrohir cupped his face and compelled him to return his gaze.

“I am not angry,” the warrior quietly said. “But I am disappointed that you did not allow me any say in this.”

Legolas swallowed hard. Of a sudden, he felt like an Elfling again being scolded for some wrongdoing. Well, he had behaved like one, he thought, his throat tight with regret.

Elrohir sighed. “I had long foreseen that we would indeed be parted longer than our wont.” He ignored Legolas’ surprised gasp and remarked with a touch of acid in his tone, “But I never imagined this would be the cause.”

Legolas felt his guilt assail him further. “I will go to Aragorn and – and withdraw my pledge,” he choked out.

Elrohir shook his head. “And be foresworn? You would not know peace even did you come with me to Valinor. It would always trouble you that you did not keep your word. Particularly one that Estel most likely welcomed and will eagerly depend on when he comes into his own. Nay, my Greenleaf, you will fulfill your promise to him as is your duty. In all honor, you cannot turn your back on your oath.”

Legolas flinched visibly. “It will not happen again,” he said in a small voice. “Please forgive me.”

Elrohir looked at him searchingly. And knew he could not remain at odds with his mate. The very sight of the proud archer reduced to near tears was enough to best him. He drew Legolas close and kissed his fluttering eyelids, tasting the salt of the tears that lurked beneath the thick lashes. The tightly woven embrace around him and the trembling of the long lean body in his arms told him it would indeed not happen again.

“Speak no more of this tonight,” he firmly said, lips barely touching the archer’s. “Dawn will be upon us before too long and I would have us celebrate our binding to the fullest.”

Though he had worshipped his mate’s body just minutes earlier, he did so again, leaving no part of him untasted or untouched. By the time he crept up to straddle the archer, Legolas was no longer coherent in his pleadings. But instead of taking him at once, he grasped the prince’s hands and pinned them above his head. With one hand he held down the slender wrists. With the other, he clutched Legolas’ rigid shaft and stroked it swiftly and hardily. Almost brusquely, the prince thought wildly as jolting pleasure wracked his body.

Legolas tried to free his hands but Elrohir’s grip on his wrists was adamantine, his Peredhil strength very much in evidence. He could do naught but writhe and rear frenziedly while each stroke brought him closer and closer to explosive release. He spent himself with a guttural cry, the force of his climax almost winding him. But before he could recover his breath, Elrohir forced his legs apart and wedged himself between them.

The archer gasped as his legs where raised high onto the warrior’s shoulders. Then Elrohir pressed low, trapping him in this particularly vulnerable position. It was one they seldom used for Elrohir knew that Legolas did not relish being rendered so helpless. But tonight, he took his golden prince thusly, pushing deeply and roughly into him while he pillaged his mouth and fondled his length anew.

The archer felt a thrill of alarm mingle with his passion and excitement. Despite his claim to the contrary, was it possible that Elrohir harbored some anger and now vented it through their coupling? He tried to speak but was cut off with scalding kisses. Was virtually rendered breathless by the relentless pounding thrusts into his body. Could barely think as he was savagely unraveled, the manner of it as close to ravishment as was possible between them. Such edacious handling was more than Legolas could bear. Coupled with the flow of sensation between them, he surrendered, sobbing harshly as he did.

Liquid warmth filled him once more and through the cacophony of his thoughts, he heard Elrohir hoarsely whispering to him over and again: “I love you. Ah, Valar, but I love you.”

He opened his eyes and stared at his mate. Relief swept away his doubts when he saw only profound affection in the depths of the silvery pools. He swallowed hard, tears of gratitude moistening his lashes. Elrohir carefully disengaged from him and gently lowered his legs from his shoulders. He held Legolas close wondering at the prince’s expression.

“What is it?” he softly inquired. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nay!” Legolas gasped. “But you have not used me so forcibly in all our years together. I confess I thought – I thought you still felt some anger toward me.”

Elrohir stared at him then chuckled. “I told you I would ride you hard and deep and often when the chance presented itself, didn’t I?” he said rakishly. At his beloved archer’s elated reaction, he added drawlingly. “Brace yourself, lass dithen”—little leaf. “I am far from done with you.”

And he smothered Legolas’ indignant protest against the old appellation with a kiss that drove all thought from the archer’s mind.

To be continued…
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond