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Princes Three: Darkness Unforeseen	By : nuwing Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 8756 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Only the quirks and perversions are mine. Everything else belongs to the creator-god of Middle-earth, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am awed by his gifts and humbled by his vision. No profit made or sought.

Chapter List
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Interlude IV - Light Diminished
~Misty Mountains 2524 III~
Elrohir stared sightlessly into the dancing flames, his eyes red-rimmed and scratchy, his body aching, his mind filled with the sight, smell, and curses of dying orcs. The foul odor of the charnel fire permeated everything � clothing, hair, bedding � until it seemed the elf-knight could taste the black blood and burning hide. He knew Elladan and Legolas fared no better. The violent days and sleepless nights of this latest foray into the wilds had left them all exhausted and short-tempered, their spirits as scarred as their flesh.
It was time to return to the Valley.
The fifteen years since Celebr�an�s fall had been a chaotic, soul-searing jumble of grief, guilt, and anger, of hopes raised and dashed. Their mother fading, their own healing only just begun, the twins had turned their thoughts to vengeance. At first they had ridden into carefully planned battles with Glorfindel and Gildor and the might of the Imladrian guard at their side; later they had joined the D�nedain to rout the last of the foul beasts who dared linger too close to the Hidden Valley. But the past months had often found them setting out alone, or accompanied only by Legolas, exchanging might for stealth, the rush of an open charge for the cold efficiency of ambush.
The air shimmered with the heat rising from the fire, casting strange shadows and bending Elrohir�s grim countenance into sinister new forms as Legolas studied his lover from across the hastily prepared clearing. The longing for respite, for days unbloodied and nights of peace and pleasure showed clearly on the elf-knight�s face.

It seemed that, as always, Elrohir would be the one to turn them homeward.
A tentative arm snaked around Legolas� waist, seeking support as much as offering it, and he leaned into Elladan�s body, hoping with his nearness to ease the pained rage that still gripped his trembling lover. Elladan was ever reluctant to return to Imladris, always eager to set out once more, and the decision to seek rest and rejuvenation often left him sullen and withdrawn, though he needed the respite as much, if not more, than his companions.
The guilt that ate at Elladan in the wake of his mother�s sailing fourteen years past was as a vicious beast, sometimes quiet but always present, and Legolas had begun to fear that it would forever be so, despite Anteruon�s reassurances to the contrary. Elrond, too, held himself a failure, though in sending his Lady over the sea he had given her waning spirit one final chance at healing.
Memories of that wretched day came rushing back as Legolas turned to glance at Elladan�s face, which seemed curiously devoid of expression despite the tears that streaked his pale, blood-smeared cheeks.
�The smoke stings,� Elladan mumbled, and Legolas did not dispute the patent untruth, instead wrapping his own arms snugly around his lover.
What Legolas remembered most clearly was the weather � sunny, unseasonably warm. A soft breeze had been blowing and the water had sparkled as it rushed over rocky falls, into quiet pools and the raging river. Early spring flowers had bloomed unexpectedly, lighting the gardens with color and scenting the air with their perfume.

It had been a beautiful day.
Galadriel and Celeborn had come to escort their only daughter to the Havens, and it was at Galadriel�s gentle insistence that neither husband nor children accompanied Celebr�an on the journey, for Galadriel feared that none of them could bear a final parting on the shores of the endless sea.
Thus Celebr�an bid her dearest ones farewell in the privacy of her own chambers, speaking fondly to each, her fragile body bearing the weight of their grief as well as her own. Over Arwen she lingered long, their parting bitterly painful, though neither could say why. The twins she embraced warmly, laying the welfare of each on the other until at last they might all be together again. Gentle smiles and comforting words she had for Glorfindel and Erestor, for Lindir and Gildor...for all who had come to know and love the Silver Lady since she had come to the Valley an uncertain bride so many centuries ago. Her parting words to Legolas still caused tears to well in the prince�s eyes, as she had embraced him as though he were her own, naming him heart-son and much beloved.
What secrets, hopes and comforts she shared with Elrond in their final moments the Lord of Imladris never revealed, though in them he found the strength to stand beside his children and bid Celebr�an goodbye, watching motionless until her procession disappeared from sight before falling to his knees at the foot of the grand stairs, sobbing out his anguish against the cold, hard stone.
For many days Legolas had feared that the Peredhel lord, too, must sail or fade, his sympathy for Elrond tainted by anxiety over what either happening would mean to the twins...and to himself. As the weeks passed, however, Elrond�s decline seemed to slow, and scarcely six moons later he was back in the healing halls, his face wan, his body thin, but his hands as sure as ever.
And so Elrond remained, competent, caring, but shadowed, his worry and frustration over his sons� foolhardy questing seeming the only sharp emotions left him. Even his joy in Anteruon�s training had vanished, and he oft put off the crown prince�s coming with pleas of fatigue or a heavy schedule in the council chambers.
In his frequent visits to Imladris, most often made in preparation for an orc-killing spree, Legolas found Elrond increasingly withdrawn outside the healing halls, as though the Peredhel�s spirit withered inside the hollow shell of the master healer. Alarmed, he shared his worries with Thranduil, who well knew the lonely ache of a soul mate missed. The king had little counsel to offer, save the need for loving support from the family members that remained, and of this, Elrond boasted little. Arwen had been several years in L�rien, unable to bear the memories of her mother that filled the Last Homely House. And the twins...
The press of another warm body brought Legolas� meandering thoughts back to the foul stench of the fire and the dangerous lethargy that plagued them all. Slipping one arm around Elrohir, Legolas looked from one exhausted twin to the other and took the choice from them. �It is time to return,� he said firmly.
�It is time to go home.�

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Princes Three: Darkness Unforeseen