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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4275 -:- 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 XVII: Binding-Call

Upon reaching Eryn Gael late that night, the twins bore the prince to his home at once. Turning down help from his servants, they settled Legolas in his bedchamber where Elrohir gently stripped him of his battle-soiled garments and washed him down while Elladan changed the bloody bandages.

Together the brethren changed the wet and stained bed sheets as well. The prince slipped into a healing slumber soon after. A knock on the door called Elladan away while Elrohir built a fire in the hearth.

Elladan returned to his side after a few minutes. “Faramir has just sent word. His scouts have discovered the orcs’ encampment and he plans to attack them at dawn,” he quietly said. “I will take our men and join him. You stay here and watch over Legolas.”

Elrohir acquiesced gratefully. He looked about the usually neat chamber; noted the neglect due to the archer’s frequent and prolonged absences from his home. Naturally, the servants would not touch their lord’s personal belongings in his absence.

“I might as well make myself useful and fix what I can. Legolas has scarcely spent any time here in the past four months and nearly every day wasted in battle.”

“Four months!” Elladan exclaimed in shock. “‘Tis no wonder he and his people were so weary.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Let us hope this will be the last of these creatures’ incursions into Ithilien for a while. I should be back in three days.” He nodded in the sleeping prince’s direction. “He will be awake before then. Try to keep him in bed, muindor.”—brother.

Elrohir snorted. “Keep Legolas in bed?” he echoed. “I will have to sit on him to manage that!”

Elladan grinned. “Do what you must so long as you do not live up to your name and ride him ragged!”

Elrohir blushed deeply at that. With a growl, he punched his brother hard in the arm. Elladan yelped and managed to duck a second blow. Snickering, he slipped out of the bedchamber, leaving a red-faced Elrohir to start on his self-appointed chores.

The younger twin swiftly set things right in the archer’s bedchamber. Before long the room began to look as he remembered it. That is, considering the many changes within. As Elrohir had surmised during his months in Rivendell, Legolas had made several alterations to his quarters. It was no longer a room meant for one occupant but a chamber for two lovers.

With a smile, he moved to the writing desk and began to put in order whatever articles were upon it. Pulling open the sole compartment of the table, he spotted a small wooden chest, its contents sticking out and thus preventing the cover from settling properly in place.

He took it out and removed the lid, seeking to rearrange the contents of the chest. A rather foul smell assaulted his nostrils. In disbelief, he picked up three old pipes and a decrepit looking bag that stank of – he wrinkled his nose – pipe-weed! And practically ancient pipe-weed at that! These must have belonged to the Halflings, he realized. Though one of the pipes was larger and longer than the other two. He grinned upon recognizing it.

Of course, that one belonged to Mithrandir. How often had he and Elladan watched the wizard puff away expertly on it and assailed him for indulging in such a smelly habit? Then again, Estel had also taken it up much to Rivendell’s collective dismay.

He returned the pipes and picked up a leaf-shaped clasp. There was no mistaking the craftsmanship of Lórien. His grandparents had gifted each member of the Fellowship with clasps just like this one. Legolas oft used his as a matter of fact. Mayhap this one had belonged to his good friend Gimli?

Setting the clasp down, he fingered the one remaining item in the chest. A small velvety pouch. Curious, he opened it and inverted it onto his hand. A small silver medallion on a thin chain slid onto his palm. Elrohir’s eyes widened. He’d seen this medallion before. Tensely, he sought the tiny latch on its side and undid it. The medallion sprung open revealing one lock of black hair. Elrohir’s mouth tightened. Estel.

He glanced at the sleeping archer, a frown furrowing his brow. He turned back to regard the medallion. Sighing, he closed it and slipped it back into its pouch. Then he neatly restored all the tokens to the chest and returned the container to its rightful place. Useless to dwell on his discovery for now. He would await the prince’s awakening.

The following morning, he took it upon himself to see to Legolas’ duties around the colony. It was late afternoon when he returned to the prince’s halls. Carrying a small basket of healing herbs and fresh bandages, he opened the door to the archer’s bedchamber. He stopped in the doorway and had to smile ruefully at the sight that greeted him.

Legolas was seated on the furs before the hearth, staring at the crackling flames. He had pulled a blanket around his frame. Elrohir approached and knelt before him.

“Are you chilled?” he asked softly.

Legolas smiled and nodded. “I find my resistance to the elements somewhat diminished. And I also feel fatigued by the simplest movements.”

"'Tis the effects of your injury and the poison,” Elrohir said. “It will take time before you truly recover. You should be in bed.”

“Nay, I cannot bear to stay there another minute. I prefer to sit here, Elrohir.”

The twin sighed. “You have always been too independent of mind for your own good, Edhelen.”—my Elf. Legolas chuckled. Elrohir smiled and said, ”Very well then, sit here if you wish. But I must dress your wounds anew.”

He helped Legolas doff his shirt. Elrohir frowned slightly, thinking once more that the bandages marred the woodland Elf’s perfection. He unwound them carefully and examined the wounds. “They are healing well,” he smiled. He quickly set to work with herbs and bindings.

Legolas sighed with some frustration. The bandages limited his ability to move his arm and he chafed at the restriction. He looked forward to being free of them.

Done with his ministrations, Elrohir put the basket aside and sat back cross-legged before the prince while the latter drew on his shirt once more. The tokens he had found were still on his mind and he considered how to broach the matter to the other Elf. He studied Legolas, wondering how to start.

The prince glanced at him and noted that he was looking at him thoughtfully. “What is it?” he asked.

Elrohir hesitated. “I have been putting your things in order,” he said. “Your desk in particular was quite a sight. It seems you left everything in disarray before you went to hunt the orcs.

Legolas chuckled. “Aye, I did. The missive regarding their raids was so sudden and urgent that I had no time to do more than gather up my people and leave as soon as possible.”

Elrohir nodded slowly. “I did not mean to pry or look upon anything you deemed private,” he said. “But I did find some things you obviously hold dear.” He paused. “I saw the mementos you kept from the Quest. The ones the surviving members of the Company gave you.”

He cleared his throat. “I saw the pipes from the hobbits and Gandalf, the Lórien clasp from Gimli...and the medallion from Estel with a lock of his hair. I could not help noticing that you kept it apart from the others in its own pouch.”

The archer looked at him sharply. Legolas anxiously studied the darkling Elf’s features for distress of any kind. But Elrohir kept his face impassive. The archer bit his lip. "'Tis his token you wonder about,” he murmured. “It troubles you. You think I kept it out of lingering affection for him. I should have cast it away rather than have it disturb you now.”

Elrohir looked at the other; noted his creased brow. For a while silence fell between them. “I could not ask you to do such a thing,” he finally said. “That you kept it means you consider it precious for the memories it holds for you. But I will not deny that I wondered anew about what passed between you and Estel.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts into order. “You told me you would not feel the like again. If that was true...then what is it that you and I have?”

The Elf-rider’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts and his words were softly spoken, with no hint of rancor or accusation. But buried in their gentle depths were Elrohir’s reawakened doubts. Legolas suddenly realized what he had ignored all along and should have addressed as soon as he’d admitted his feelings for the twin.

In his initial joy and relief at finally winning the archer’s love, Elrohir had put aside his reservations regarding Legolas’ attachment to Aragorn in the wake of the Quest. But he could not do so indefinitely. Before he could truly believe that he held Legolas’ heart in full, he needed to know just where he stood in comparison to his foster brother. Legolas had to banish those ghosts if Elrohir were ever to be wholly at peace with the archer’s choice.

Legolas mulled over his words carefully. Whatever he said could very well determine the course of his relationship with Elrohir.

“Aragorn proved to be so much more than I’d ever expected of him,” he said at last. “He bore qualities I’d not thought possible in Men. I came to admire him above all others, to trust him with all my heart. For the first time in my life I thought I’d discovered what it was to love.” He flinched inwardly when Elrohir’s lips involuntarily tightened at this revelation. “That I recovered so swiftly after our parting is proof that this was not so,” he offered quickly, hoping to soothe the other.

“Yet you hurt when he wed my sister,” Elrohir said flatly. Seeing past the unemotional statement to the scepticism beyond, Legolas reached for the dark-haired Elf’s hand and clasped it tightly.

“My feelings were intense given the perils we’d shared and had so recently passed through,” he explained. “It was not a simple matter to put them to rest.” He looked into Elrohir’s eyes, desperately willing the other to truly hear what he was trying to say. “I mistook those feelings for love. Had I perceived this then, I would not have suffered any hurt.”

Elrohir’s eyes were unreadable. Legolas felt his anxiety rise at the other’s demeanor. Then the silvered pools opened to him, darkened with apprehension. “How do you know that you have not made another mistake regarding your feelings for me?” the twin asked so softly, the prince almost did not hear him,

Legolas’ eyes widened at the query. There was no mistaking the fear in Elrohir’s voice now. The grey eyes were unveiled and vulnerable. He could discern all too clearly the thought in the other’s mind. Will I lose you just when I have gained you?

Legolas felt his throat tighten with pain for the other. He raised Elrohir’s hand to his mouth, pressed his lips against the folded fingers. “I am not mistaken in this,” he ardently insisted. “This is not admiration or fellowship turned to passion. I love you, Elrohir. You are my heart’s desire, the chosen one of my soul. I would fade from grief if you ever ceased to love me.”

Elrohir’s eyes flashed at the fervor-drenched declaration. He clasped Legolas’ hand tightly in turn. “I could never cease to love you,” he said. “You are in my blood; in my very bones.”

Legolas smiled, warmed and thrilled by the renewed light in the grey eyes. But he sobered quickly when he glanced down at the gold band on his right hand.

“This ring... I was right, wasn’t I?” he whispered haltingly. “You were to give it to your spouse. ‘Tis why you gave it to me... because I was...I am your binding-mate.”

Elrohir stared at him. “How did you know?” he managed to say.

Legolas colored somewhat. “I deduced it,” he admitted. “I may be naught but a blind and foolish Wood-elf but I do have some wits about me.” He peered at Elrohir wonderingly. “Why did you do it? You could have accompanied your father to Valinor and awaited me there.”

The warrior hesitated. “I would not have long survived in Aman away from you,” he admitted. “Our bond of friendship was all that kept my spirit alive.”

Legolas paled considerably at this confession. “Why did you not tell me? Why did you do it in secret?” he asked.

Elrohir averted his eyes and stared into the dancing flames. “I did not wish for you to bind to me out of pity or duty,” he quietly explained. “And I wanted you to be free if you ever desired to join yourself to another.”

Legolas drew in a harsh breath. Eru! That would have been the death of his Elf-knight! Shuddering at the closeness of it all, he decided to give voice to the implacable yearning that had filled even his waking hours whilst they had been apart.

To Elrohir’s surprise, he drew the ring from his finger and placed it in the Elf-knight’s hand. “I would return this to you that – that you may give it to me at a more – a more propitious time.” He drew a deep breath. “Elrohir, as you bound yourself to me, I would bind myself to you,” he said in a hushed voice.

Elrohir stared at him, uncertain if he had heard right. After so many years of waiting...!

“Nothing would make me happier than to be joined with you,” Legolas nearly whispered. “Will you have me?”

Elrohir was rendered mute. Whatever remaining doubts he may have still harbored all but vanished. Boundless joy followed but, for the moment, the jumble of emotions rendered him incapable of any response, much less speech.

His lack of discernible reaction made Legolas flush and lower his eyes. He was surprised by the warrior’s silence. He’d assumed the other desired to complete their mating but it seemed that was not so.

“I am sorry,” he murmured. “I thought... That was presumptuous of me.”

His dejected apology snapped Elrohir out of his daze. “Nay, you misunderstand me,” he hurriedly said in a hushed voice. The prince raised his eyes and saw that Elrohir gazed upon him with all tenderness. “I was only so stunned. I have yearned for this for more years than I care to count.” He beamed happily at Legolas. “Aye, I will have you, my golden prince. I will make you mine evermore.”

Legolas’ eyes turned luminous. His mouth spread into a sweet and joyful smile that snatched the very breath from Elrohir’s breast. He soon found it impossible to take in any air at all when the archer hugged him in a crushing embrace with his good arm. Chuckling somewhat breathlessly, he hugged the prince back.

When Legolas let him go, he slipped the ring on then cocked a curious eye at the prince. “But your father? Might he not object? He tolerated what passed between us before but this is not quite the same thing.”

Legolas shook his head. “The ancient ways have also taken root in Eryn Lasgalen though the growing has been slower than here,” he said. “It will please Adar knowing that ‘tis you I have chosen. You have always been as another son to him. Our binding will make that a fact as well.”

Elrohir laughed softly. “I am glad then,” he said. “I would not like to visit Greenwood under threat of your father’s frightful rage!”

After a brief bout of laughter, he noticed his Greenleaf had turned rosy with embarrassment. “What is it?” he prompted.

Legolas reddened even more. “I have offered to pledge myself to you,” he said, “without even knowing how the Rites are done.” At Elrohir’s choked back mirth, he glowered and said: “You know ‘tis scarcely performed openly in our realm! All I know is hearsay. I have not witnessed them myself. I suppose it is not quite like a conventional marriage between ellon and elleth.”

Elrohir smiled. “It is not,” he agreed. “The Rites are akin to those which bind war-brothers to each other. The sealing of the vows between two of the same kind is not through their progeny but in the mingling of their blood. But gold bands are also exchanged and there is the customary betrothal period of a year—”

“Nay, I do not wish to wait,” Legolas said firmly.

Elrohir’s eyes widened. “And just how soon do you want the Rites?”

“As soon as I am healed of these wounds, no later.”

“But do you not wish to have your family with you?”

“I would rather have us bound soonest. ‘Tis enough for me that we do this before my people.”

“Why the haste? What is another year?”

“Too long for my liking. As soon as I am healed, Elrohir, not one day later.” When Elrohir stared at him in bemusement, Legolas pointed out: “You are already bound to me. What need is there for a long betrothal?”

“Not for me but for you, Legolas,” Elrohir replied. “Do you not care to observe the custom?”

Legolas shook his head and said: ”I nearly lost you because of my folly, dearest. I will not make that mistake again. The sooner we are bound, the better. Now, what else is needed?”

Elrohir’s stare softened to a tender gaze. “Well, ‘tis customary to have one’s parents or kin or mayhap a close friend present one to one’s mate-to-be,” he replied.

Legolas nodded. “Elladan can do that for you,” he said. “And Nimeithel will not mind doing the same for me.”

The warrior paused thoughtfully. “I would rather you asked Estel,” he said at length.

Legolas raised his eyebrow at that. “Why?”

Elrohir replied, “Indulge me in this, Calenlass. It will lay the past to rest to have Estel present you to me.”

The prince understood. “Very well then,” he agreed. “Arwen will also insist on being there,” he added.

The twin snickered. “Aye, we will never hear the end of it if we leave her out of this. But she is very near her time. I shudder to think of her whelping in the middle of everything!”

Legolas laughed with amusement at the picture the warrior had conjured before smiling at him with glowing affection. Elrohir started at the sight of that smile. He swallowed hard. But he could also see the bindings peeking out from the front of Legolas’ open shirt. Desire strove with concern, threatened to overtake the other.

Deciding to remove himself from the vicinity of temptation, Elrohir made to rise to his feet, muttering, “I had better leave.”

A strong grip on his wrist stayed him. “Do not go,” Legolas softly implored. “I need you, Aduial.”

The twin did not miss the blatant hunger in the archer’s voice. “I need you, too, Legolas,” he managed to say. “But much as I long to...“ He shook his head to clear it of the treacherous waves of passion that sought to drown his common sense. “You are in no condition for us to do this.”

“I will be in worse condition if we do not,” the prince insisted. He raised his hands to cup the other’s face. “Please, melethron”—lover— “I missed you so much. Do not deny me.”

Elrohir let out a shaky breath. He had been so used to being the one to seek intimacy that he still found it a matter of astonishment whenever Legolas took the initiative. But it was irresistibly seductive as well. Surrendering to their shared yearning, he leaned forward and caught the prince’s lips in a rapturously covetous kiss.

Legolas eagerly welcomed the invasion. He elatedly inhaled the twin’s distinctive scent, one he had missed during their separation.

Despite his numerous and oft protracted absences from Rivendell, Elrohir still retained the evocative scent of his birthplace. It recalled the clean, rushing waters of the Bruinen, fresh breezes and open skies, sun-dappled meadows and the heather and pine upon the slopes that led down into the narrow vale. It had always comforted him and made him feel utterly secure. Now it seduced him, made him weak with wanting.

And I took it for granted all these years, Legolas thought. I took him for granted. I had to nearly lose him before I realized how precious he is. He reached for the ties on Elrohir’s shirt; undid them swiftly in his impatience to see, touch, taste the warrior’s skin once more.

They suffered their lips to part only as long as was needed to undress. Still devouring each other’s mouths, they lay upon the furs before the hearth. Conscious of the archer’s wounds, Elrohir was gentleness itself. He softly bade the prince to lie still and allow him to attend to his needs. With deliberate slowness, he moved down the archer’s withy frame – kissing, stroking, sucking, claiming. Succored and enraptured by such tender pleasuring, Legolas scarcely felt any discomfort from his injuries.

At the height of their coupling, Elrohir, ever mindful of Legolas’ wounds, turned the archer on his uninjured side, slipped behind him and pulled him into the curve of his own body. Taking Legolas thus, he kept his prince free from pain or further injury without sacrificing any of the pleasure of their coupling.

As their bodies moved together, the twin felt the tremors build within the slender body in his arms, matching the quivering in his own limbs. Reaching around, he stroked the prince until the other was gasping wildly with need. He held the archer snugly against his own form, pressing hungry kisses to the sensitive flesh just behind his ear with each thrust into the lissome form.

Shaking, perilously close to the end of his endurance, Legolas turned his head, mutely begging Elrohir to claim his lips. He savored the almost bruising force of the warrior’s kiss. And then, they swallowed each other’s groans as blissful release overcame them simultaneously.

After withdrawing from Legolas, Elrohir waited for his heart to slow down, his breathing to return to normal. Raising himself upon an elbow, he looked down upon the archer and saw he was also awaiting the calm after the storm. He noted that Legolas looked utterly exhausted. Worry crept into his thoughts that they should not have done this when the prince was still recovering from his injuries. He reached for the blanket and pulled it up over both of them.

Legolas lay back and looked up at the darkling Elf; he saw his concern. “I was loath to put it off, mîr nîn”—my treasure—he murmured with a tired but happy smile.

Elrohir’s anxiety dissipated and he curled an arm around the archer. “You are weary,” he murmured. “Sleep, Calenlass. I will watch over you.”

He held Legolas protectively against his chest and chastely kissed the golden crown. Feeling the prince’s hand curl possessively over his, the Elvenlord smiled with utmost contentment.

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

Glossary:

Adar - Father

ellon - male Elf

elleth - Elf-maid

Calenlass - Greenleaf

Aduial - Twilight

To be continued…
- 17
- 18
- 19
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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince