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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26418 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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

Eryn Galen, laer T.A. 249

Legolas awakened with a start and a curse, his body glistening with sweat, his heart thumping wildly even as it attempted to slow its beat. 'Confound it all!' he thought, raising trembling fingers to his lips. Lips that not a minute ago had been engaged in plundering another delectable pair. In the heated depths of his dream that is.

He flung off the covers and rose from his bed. Padding over to the window he stared out at the dark outside. It was three hours shy of dawn and not a sound was to be heard save for the normal murmur of the forest beyond. The dampness in his sleeping trousers reminded him of why he had been roused at such an unholy hour. With an exasperated sigh, he turned his back on the window and headed for his wardrobe to fetch a fresh pair.

The dreams came with maddening frequency and always, without fail, he would come awake with his body afire with need. Even at a distance, even without any direct contact, Elrohir had the power to ignite his passion and stoke it to an alarming degree. And he would never admit it but he had not known true contentment since breaking his troth with the younger twin. Just as the Elf-knight could arouse his lust without even knowing it, so too did it seem that only he could tend it to Legolas' satisfaction.

Legolas scowled as he shed his soiled raiment. After two years of not exchanging so much as a word with Elrohir, much less catching a glimpse of the younger twin, one would think that he had relinquished all his yearning for him. But that was not so. If anything, his need seemed to wax ever greater the longer they were apart. At least his body's need, he insisted to himself. His body's wants did not reflect his heart or mind's desire, he sternly maintained. That voicing this sentiment to his father or brothers would have only merited skepticism at best and blatant disbelief at worst did not occur to him. Or rather he did not allow the notion to sway him.

He did not want the Elf-knight. He did not wish to love an inconstant lover. It was hardly his fault if his wayward body refused to cooperate with him. And it had grown even more uncooperative now that Elrohir was in physical proximity to him once more.

The brethren Elladan and Elrohir had arrived three days ago for his majority celebration. In keeping with the terms of the treaty between their valley realm and the forest kingdom, they came as Rivendell's representatives to the festivities. It was a mark of Elrond's high regard for his woodland allies that he had sent his own sons instead of Erestor or Glorfindel. Given the circumstances, it would have been the easier route to take. But the Peredhel lord did not believe in placing personal discomfort above political obligations. Even if it was a most awkward position for his younger son to be in, Elrond abided by the dictates of duty. And Elrohir would not have permitted him to do otherwise.

Legolas had accepted the news with little outward emotion but those who knew him well did not doubt his stomach must have taken several turns. Yet when he joined his father and brothers to welcome the twins, he appeared as calm as could be. Almost glacially so.

The twins demeaned themselves with no less equanimity despite the certainty that they must have been cognizant of the curious stares bestowed on them, particularly on Elrohir. Neither displayed even a hint of unease under such intense scrutiny.

It was a matter of speculation within the kingdom as to the reason for the sudden breaking of what had been deemed an adamantine betrothal. None outside of the erstwhile lovers' immediate families knew that another of Thranduil's sons was involved. But many suspected a dalliance was the cause and that Elrohir had played loose with his vows. For most of the forest folk knew their youngest prince enough to believe that only such a transgression could possibly cleave him from his beloved Elf-knight. Had the suspicion been confirmed, popular opinion would have turned against the younger twin for Legolas was much loved by his people.

It was to Thranduil's credit that he blunted these suspicions by warmly welcoming the twins thereby leading many to doubt their notions. At any rate, they could not treat Elrohir with less kindness than their own king did and so behaved toward him with the respect and civility one afforded a distinguished guest.

Legolas crept back into bed, his thoughts crowding his already cluttered mind, refusing to let him slip into renewed slumber. Unthinkingly, he smoothed his hand over the space beside him. The space he always unconsciously left free even in sleep. It was an instinctive action and strongly indicative of his decades-long anticipation of the day when that space would be occupied openly and without guilt by the younger twin. He stopped the movement of his hand, clenched it into a fist and brought it down on the mattress with a muffled oath.

It would not happen now. All his waiting was for naught. He would not experience Elrohir's loving; would not know what it was like to fill and be filled by him and berth one's self in his arms through the night. Pain washed over him, as did frustration over that never quenched longing. For that alone he could not forgive Elrohir. For planting the seeds of nigh indestructible desire for the darkling Elf-lord in him, his resentment continued to mount. And for wreaking such hurt on him with the complicity of Legolas' own brother of all people, that resentment blended with bitterness and had settled deep in the recesses of his heart.

Hot tears trickled down his cheeks as his thoughts turned to Nimaras. His brother had been recalled from the southern marches that he might be in attendance at Legolas' majority rites. Thranduil was not about to allow his subjects to wonder about one of his children's absence at so important an occasion. Nimaras returned chastened enough not to treat his youngest brother with his usual scorn but still unrepentant of the ill deed that had brought Legolas so much pain and disillusionment. They had greeted each other with cool amiability, that was all. The rift remained between them as wide as ever. And it would likely not close any time soon. Not when Legolas deeply begrudged Nimaras' taking of what he had denied himself for so many years.

Elrohir. The Elf-knight's fair countenance and form swam before his mind's eye unbidden causing a reflexive stirring in his groin. Legolas groaned and pressed his face into his pillow. Plague take his foolish yearnings! Why couldn't he school his body not to long for Elrohir's touch? Or his mind not to be beguiled by the younger twin's mere image?

Two years and still the Elf-knight's siren call was as sweet and potent as ever. Legolas wondered if he would ever hear it without having to struggle mightily not to hearken to it.

**********

The eve of Legolas' begetting day, Thranduil hosted a dinner, the last of several he had held in his youngest son's honor in the last couple of weeks. As was the custom, an Elf who had reached his or her majority was formally presented to kith and kin by way of a great celebration whether it was the rustic party of a commoner or the elegant ball of a noble's child. But a member of the royal family was also presented to the kingdom at large and it was hardly advisable or possible to squeeze every last Elf in Greenwood the Great into the official guest list for the begetting day celebration itself. Thus, the series of smaller fetes that permitted an about to come of age prince to mingle with his Silvan subjects and prevented the ruffling of anyone's feathers. To this final affair, the noblest members of the court were invited as were Elrond's sons for, if one were to go by bloodline alone, the twins outranked every Elf in the Woodland Realm.

The affair was held under the stars in the garden between the delved palace and the royal pavilion. Chairs and cushions and low tables had been scattered about and guests settled themselves if and wherever they wished. Servants plied them with food and drink while minstrels regaled them with songs, poetry and witty tales. There were no strict forms of decorum to follow this eve though the bluest of the blue-bloods in the kingdom were gathered together. Formalities were for the morrow when the youngest prince officially left childhood behind and took his place as a full-fledged adult.

Galvreth observed the proceedings with mingled regret and fascination. On the one hand, he rued the circumstances that had strained personal relations with the twins even if matters were prospering on the diplomatic front. On the other, he was amazed at how the brethren continued to command respect and even obeisance from the Greenwood Elves. Even Elrohir who since the suspension of his betrothal to Legolas had forfeited his privileges as a prince of the Woodland Realm was still deferred to by many as if he had not. The twins simply carried themselves with such quiet grace and dignity that one could not help but admire them.

Halfway through the evening, he saw Legolas slip away and head down the stone path that led to the rear of the pavilion. In a bid to elude the attentions of some of the more tiresome guests in attendance he thought. Or was it to escape the discomfiting gaze of just one? Nonetheless, he shook his head in disapproval of his brother's behavior. Much as he sympathized with Legolas, he could not condone forsaking an affair held in one's honor.

“He still cares.”

Galvreth stiffened, took a deep breath then turned to face Elladan. “What makes you think that he does?”

“Because if he did not, my brother's presence would not have been enough to set him fleeing,” the older twin replied.

To that Galvreth could make no reply. “How long will you stay?' he asked instead.

“For as long as Elrohir's forbearance lasts,” Elladan said.

Galvreth sighed. That did not sound promising. Legolas had not shown much warmth to Elrohir since the brethren's arrival and indeed took pains to avoid being with him. How long would Elrohir's resolve hold out against this distinct lack of cordiality?

“I wish him luck,” he lamely offered.

Elladan frowned. “Methinks he will need more than luck. But Legolas seems severely lacking in compassion these days.”

Galvreth flushed, indignation at a tacit slur on one of his brothers warring with the desire to agree with Elladan's assessment. “Can you blame him?” he countered.

“For being hurt and angered, nay,” Elladan said. “But to rub more salt into Elrohir's wounds is most unbecoming of a prince I think.”

“That is unkind and untrue.”

“Unkind perhaps but untrue? Explain then why he flaunts his admirers so assiduously when Elrohir is present and not at any other time,” Elladan challenged. “If it is not to spite my brother, then to what purpose are his actions? Mayhap 'tis for the best after all that they have parted ways if this is how a Wood-elf avenges himself!”

Galvreth felt the color in his cheeks deepen. Gritting his teeth, he tightly said: “Spare me your bile, Elladan. I am not your enemy.”

Hurt and not a little angered, he turned and walked away. But Elladan followed and fell into step with him. He placed a placating hand on the silver-haired Elf's arm, compelling him to halt. Galvreth tensed beneath his touch.

“You are right,” Elladan ruefully conceded. “'Twas uncalled for to vent my spleen on you. I can only plead concern for my brother's welfare. Please forgive me, meldiren.”-my friend. When Galvreth only nodded his acknowledgement of the apology, he softly added: “May I assume that you missed my company as much as I missed yours?”

Elladan slid his palm down Galvreth's arm to his hand and wove their fingers familiarly. Galvreth could not help a shiver at the affectionate gesture.

After a fraught moment, he relaxed and looked sideways at the older twin. “You may,” he murmured.

The first trills of a lilting woodland tune sounded. At the other end of the garden where the ground was level, several ellyn were gathering to take part in a Silvan folk dance. It was the same dance the twins had seen performed their first visit to the forest realm; the one Galvreth had so ably led.

Elladan tilted his head in the direction of the gathered Elves. “Teach me this dance,” he coaxed.

Galvreth looked down at their linked hands then nodded, a small smile gracing his face, his brown eyes brightening once more. They sauntered over to join the dancers.

In the meantime, Legolas had gained the silence and privacy of the narrow trellised terrace behind the pavilion. It looked out on the encroaching line of the woods beyond and was a favored place to come to when one desired to be alone. Legolas leaned his forehead against the interwoven open-mesh frame, breathing in the fragrance of the wildflowers that clung in riotous profusion to the strips of wood. But try as he might, he could not banish the cause for his sudden retreat from the dinner. The singular, elusive scent that had teased his nostrils when he'd inadvertently brushed past Elrohir. He inwardly cursed his treacherous desires not for the last time.

He had tried to be indifferent to the Elf-knight's presence but it had proven quite impossible. Even without looking, he'd known when Elrohir's eyes were on him. Had felt the other's steady gaze whenever it alighted on him. And each time he'd nearly come undone. Only his Wood-elven pride and righteous anger had kept him from succumbing to the mad urge to throw himself into Elrohir's arms.

It subtly assaulted him once more despite the heady sweetness of the blooms. Nothing could quite compete or compare with the scent of a Peredhel it seemed. He swung around and regarded Elrohir warily. The younger twin stood but an arm's span away. His nearness was enough to set Legolas' heart pounding madly, which in turn triggered annoyance with himself.

“Are you all right?” Elrohir softly asked.

“Quite well, thank you,” Legolas curtly replied, trying to ignore the stirrings wrought by the sheer comeliness of his former intended.

Elrohir nodded. “You seemed distraught. I was concerned.”

Unconsciously, he reached for his right index finger and twisted the argent band on it. With astonishment, Legolas realized that Elrohir still bore his betrothal ring.

“You still wear your ring?” he blurted out. “Do not tell me Imladris does not yet know of the breaking of our troth!”

Elrohir stared at the ring with an expression Legolas could not quite fathom. “Imladris knows,” he demurred. “I did not pretend otherwise. I do not wear this to perpetuate a pretense.” When Legolas raised his eyebrows skeptically, Elrohir sighed and explained, “My finger feels empty without it.”

Legolas suppressed his start of empathy. Elrohir was not alone in that sentiment. Two years on and he still found himself looking for the silver band on his finger and feeling a strange disappointment when he saw its bareness. And hard on the heels of that disappointment would come an emptiness he could never quite fill.

The twin studied him for a moment then ventured a comment. “Your favor is much desired,” he hesitantly remarked. “'Tis as your sire foretold long ago.”

Legolas shrugged. “Were I not a prince of this realm, I doubt I would inspire any interest at all.”

“Nay, even were you but the lowliest kitchen scullion, you would still be sought after, Legolas. Beauty such as yours is too rare to miss and even less left unappreciated.”

Legolas felt a flush of pleasure stain his cheeks. A wave of displeasure at himself for being so affected to this day by Elrohir's opinion swiftly followed and he frowned.

“This meeting is not mere happenstance,” he abruptly stated. “You followed me. What do you want, Elrohir?”

Though stung by the archer's cutting manner, Elrohir did not respond in kind. “I only wished to inquire after your welfare,” he answered. “I have had no word of you in two years.”

“My welfare despite your absence?” Legolas quipped sarcastically.

Elrohir shook his head. “You are happy I trust?” he said, tactfully ignoring the barb.

“Enough for my needs,” Legolas tartly replied. “I have had no lack of company to keep me occupied,” he coolly added.

Elrohir looked away at that but not swiftly enough that Legolas did not see the gleam of moisture in his eyes. The prince felt a pang of regret smite him at the deep hurt so evident in the twin's features but he forcefully smothered the impulse to retract the unwarranted pronouncement.

“Neither have I,” Elrohir murmured. “But 'tis not enough to make up for my loss. I doubt it ever will be. I do not seem to possess your heart's resilience.”

That Elrohir believed him easily able to forget what they'd shared and move on should not have stung. But it did. Legolas' rage surged of a sudden. Unreasonably, unexpectedly, it bubbled up and before he could control it, burst forth with scalding acerbity.

“Then I am fortunate indeed to have been consoled so well for how else was I to salve its wounding at your hands?” he snapped, voice dripping with bitterness. “Yet I suppose I must thank you for teaching me how to see to my needs. At the very least, I learned to be exacting in choosing what companions are best suited to taking care of them. You set a high standard, Elf-knight, that much I will grant you.”

Elrohir stared at him with startled eyes, jolted by his rancor. He swallowed several times, obviously struggling with his own volatile feelings. And then he said, his voice barely above a strained whisper: “I had hoped to gain your forgiveness. To regain your friendship at the very least. But 'tis apparent that you have not…” He stopped and bit his lower lip to still its quivering. When he spoke again, his voice shook though he strove to steady it. “I will not trouble your peace again, my prince,” he said. “Farewell and good fortune be with you always.”

Before Legolas could respond, he bowed swiftly then turned and strode away. The archer stared after him, torn between misery and anger, wanting to follow and feeling umbrage at himself that he should want to. Losing all desire to return to the dinner, he hurriedly ascended the pavilion instead and secluded himself in his quarters. And when servants came to inquire after him, he pleaded a need for sleep of which he'd had precious little in the preceding days. What his father or the guests would make of his behavior he did not care about at the moment. Not when his heart and mind were in turmoil over his brief encounter with Elrohir.

He was roused all too soon the following morning by a frightful pounding on his door. Grousing at such a rude awakening, he trudged to the door and yanked it open. A fuming Aelluin stalked in and he was forced to hastily back up lest his brother knock him down and walk over him.

“Aelluin!” he exclaimed. “Wherefore such discourtesy?”

“Mayhap I should ask the same of you in your dealings with Elrohir!” Aelluin snapped. “For why else would the gwenyn”-twins-“suddenly take leave of Greenwood?”

Legolas stared. “Leave Greenwood?” he said disbelievingly.

“I have just come from seeing them off,” Aelluin growled. He glared at Legolas. “They left with such haste and in much distress. Especially Elrohir. I have not seen him so low in spirit, not even when you broke your troth. I would venture to guess that he has lost all hope where before he still harbored some. What did you say to him to make him despair so?”

Legolas gawked at him, taken aback by his anger. A moment later, his own burgeoned and he scowled.

“What passed between us is no business of yours, Aelluin,” he retorted. “And I doubt Gilthalion will be so pleased to learn how avidly you involve yourself in Elrohir's travails. One would think you still hold some tenderness for him after all this time.”

“Dolt!” Aelluin barked. “Of course I still hold tenderness for him. Who would not with one so kind and noble of heart? He was the first ever to capture my affection and that is not a thing one forgets. And likely you do not know this but 'twas he who encouraged me to woo Gilthalion when all others told me 'twas a hopeless cause. And if you think Gilthalion knows not of my sentiments then you are as witless as a cave troll!” Giving Legolas no chance to reply, he caught his arm in an iron grip and shook him roughly. “What did you say to him, brother? Speak!”

“Naught but the truth!” Legolas shot back. “That what I do is no longer his concern for I have found the wherewithal to move on.”

Aelluin frowned, wondering what could have been so hurtful in Legolas' statement as to drive Elrohir away. And then his eyebrows rose in aghast cognition. “You told him that you have dallied with others?” he gasped. At Legolas' mulish silence, he shook him ever harder. “Whence your cruelty, Legolas? Why wound him so when you know he has naught to shield him from your blows?”

Legolas managed to jerk his arm out of Aelluin's grasp. “And what of me?” he demanded. “What defense did I have when he dealt me my wounds? Think you they have healed? I tell you they still fester and pain me as if 'twas but yesterday that I knew myself betrayed!”

“So you struck at him in reprisal,” Aelluin summed up. “You sought to inflict as much hurt on him as he did on you.”

“Yea, and it pleases me that he now knows what 'tis like to be played the fool,” Legolas said.

That earned him a hearty buffet. Raising a hand to his smarting ear, he stared at his brother in disbelief for never had the latter ever resorted to physical chastisement before.

“Have you learned nothing from your own brothers' folly, lackwit?” Aelluin snapped. “Beware what you say or do in anger, Legolas. You may find it hard to recant and redeem yourself in the eyes of those you love!” On that cautionary note, he spun on his heel and swept out of the room, leaving Legolas to stare after him in some stupefaction.

He had flinched slightly at Aelluin's words. Though the Crown Prince had mentioned their brethren in general, Legolas knew he was referring to his own experience in his pursuit of Gilthalion.

The gallant captain of their father's army had known of the shameful treatment Legolas' brothers had dealt him. Consequently, when Aelluin had begun his wooing in earnest, Gilthalion had in turn refused to entertain his suit. For the captain had a soft spot for children, having helped his dam raise his younger siblings after his sire's death in the Second Age. Aelluin's behavior toward his own little brother had merited Gilthalion's disdainful rebuff and it was long ere he finally gave the second prince a chance to prove his worth and only after he saw the change for the better in the relationship between his king's second-born and youngest son. It had been a painful lesson and one Aelluin had taken to heart.

Legolas heaved a calming breath, his slim frame still quivering from his brother's scathing reproach. And from the news of the twins' precipitate departure. He told himself that it was just as well that they had left. Fortunate that Elrohir was no longer there. The Elf-knight's presence had jarred the fragile peace of his mind. He would not have been able to enjoy his coming-of-age feast this eve with Elrohir in attendance. He would have been too conscious of the latter's every word or deed to savor the festivities in his honor. Aye, it was much better this way.

Now if he could only convince himself of the rightness of this conviction.

Meanwhile, Aelluin stormed down the hallway, his expression so fearsome, many a servant scuttled timidly out of his way. He had almost reached his quarters when he ran into Elivorn and Galvreth who had apparently been searching for him.

“Ho, brother!” Elivorn called out as soon as he caught sight of him. “What is this Galvreth tells me about the twins? Is it true that they have left our fair kingdom?”

Aelluin nodded, his mouth tight with unabated ire over Legolas' actions. He entered his sitting room, the others in tow.

“Where did you hie off to?” Galvreth asked. “Father turned to speak to you but you had vanished and none could tell us where you had taken yourself.”

Aelluin plopped himself down on the couch fronting the fireplace, blowing his breath out in an attempt to reduce his pique. For some time, he stared unseeingly at the dark, empty hearth.

“I informed Legolas of the twins' departure,” he said at last.

His brothers glanced at each other. “And?” Elivorn prodded.

“And I also sought to discover the cause for their leaving. That they would not tell Adar their reasons seemed to me evidence of some grievous occurrence. For they would never be derelict in their discharge of duty for a paltry cause.”

Galvreth settled on his haunches before him. “And did you discover the cause?”

Aelluin sighed. “Legolas implied to Elrohir that he has dallied with others these past two years.”

Galvreth grimaced while Elivorn winced. “I cannot blame him then for wishing to quit this kingdom soonest,” the dark-haired prince murmured. “He would not want to witness Legolas celebrating his majority with another Elf.”

Galvreth shook his head. “Legolas still hurts, that much is obvious. But to do such injury to Elrohir...”

“In retaliation I suppose,” Elivorn commented, looking to Aelluin for confirmation.

“There was no need for it,” Aelluin said. “Anyone could see how much Elrohir already suffers. I should think that punishment enough if that was what Legolas sought to mete him.”

“Legolas is quite sheltered, Aelluin,” Galvreth reminded him. “He is little versed in the ways of the world. To him all is black or white and he has scarce patience for the shades between.”

“I know that,” Aelluin soberly admitted. “But the look on Elrohir's face this morn - ah, 'twas more than I could bear. You saw it, Galvreth. Do not tell me his grief left you unmoved.”

Galvreth sighed and shook his head. “I have never felt so much pity before,” he admitted. “In truth, I longed to stop him from leaving and go to Legolas and beg him to soften his stance.”

The three fell silent for a space, disheartened by this further tear in the fabric of their family's unity and serenity.

“Is it a sin to harbor an urge to throttle one's own brother?” Elivorn sadly said at length.

“Legolas?” Galvreth asked.

“Nay, Nimaras. Him and his misbegotten pride and refusal to bury his grudges.”

“'Tis not a sin so long as you do not put your thoughts into action,” Aelluin said with a wan smile.

Elivorn sank into the armchair opposite the couch. “You cannot imagine how oft I have rued bringing out that confounded Dorwinion that night,” he muttered. “Do you know, I have not drank it since, so sour a taste it leaves in my mouth whenever I recall the trouble it caused.”

“'Twas not the wine but Nimaras' reprehensible actions to blame,” Galvreth pointed out. “He was no different from a lecher plying some poor soul with drink that she may prove amenable to his advances or so I have heard about humans at their most despicable.”

“Save that he did not have to encourage Elrohir to drink his fill,” Elivorn said reminiscently. “Do you remember how eager he was to imbibe more than was prudent? Elladan counselled him to take a dip in the Bruinen rather than drink himself senseless. And he did come close to it, didn't he. I swear I thought he would fall on his face afore he reached his chambers!”

Aelluin listened to them with only half a mind. But Elivorn's reference to the degree of Elrohir's inebriation for some reason snagged his attention. He frowned, trying to figure out what it was that had roused him out of reverie.

Elivorn said that Elrohir had drunk himself almost senseless. Almost? A nigh forgotten remark resurfaced amongst his myriad musings.

He sat up abruptly and reached over to grip a startled Elivorn's knee. “Something that you said before,” he urgently said. “That Elrohir drank enough to fell five men. Yet he did leave your company on his own two feet?”

“Aye, but barely. 'Tis not surprising that Nimaras caught up with him. As I said, I wondered if he made it to his room considering his state.”

“So did I,” Galvreth agreed. “But when we returned to our quarters and saw no sign of him in the hallway, we assumed he had.”

“Enough to fell five men…” Aelluin repeated thoughtfully. “I assume you mean were he an Elf. A pure-blood that is.”

The other two looked at him curiously. “What is it that you are getting at?” Elivorn inquired.

“I did not give that incident much thought then,” Aelluin said. “Nimaras' account seemed straightforward enough at the time. But Elrohir's continued lack of recollections of that night troubles me. 'Tis odd that he remembers nothing past meeting Nimaras in the hallway, don't you think?”

Galvreth nodded. “Now that you mention it, aye, that is odd. You would think that he would recall something of what passed between them even if not the whole of it.”

“So why hasn't he?” Elivorn asked. “Unless he is lying about his forgetfulness…”

“Nay, Elrohir would never deny the truth however ruinous the consequences to him,” Galvreth firmly said.

“Yet he did keep it from Legolas for many years,” Elivorn pointed out.

“Out of fear,” Galvreth countered. “And with good reason. But Elladan told me that he'd intended to tell our brother ere their last visit ended and to beg forgiveness as well. Had Nimaras held his tongue and allowed Elrohir to reveal the truth more gently, matters would not have gone so ill I think. 'Twas the suddenness and public nature of Nimaras' revelation that roused Legolas' ire to such an extent. I believe that mortification had as much to do with his rage as his sense of betrayal.”

“Which supposes a deliberate act of malice on Nimaras' part when he chose to expose Elrohir so crudely,” Elivorn said protestingly. “Is he capable of such meanness?”

“It grieves me to think that he is,” Aelluin gruffly averred. He leaned back in his chair, covering his face momentarily with his hand. Finally he dropped his hand and looked at the other two, a chilling glint in his blue eyes. “So, what think you does Elrohir's lack of memories signify?” he said.

“That he was telling the truth when he said he was not conscious of his actions,” Galvreth replied.

Aelluin's eyes narrowed. “Not conscious of his actions?” he softly put forth. “Or not conscious at all?”

Elivorn and Galvreth stared at him in some horror. “What are you saying?” Galvreth gasped. “That Nimaras-?” He shook his head vehemently. “Nay, not even he would do such a thing!”

Aelluin rose to his feet, his face grim. He regarded the others somberly, sharing their dismay and shame.

“What say we pry the truth out of him?” he said with deceptive mildness. “Two dear hearts are at stake and I would not have them broken further than they have been already.”

He headed for the door, a determined expression marking his countenance. Galvreth and Elivorn swiftly followed.

“Ah, that one of our own could be capable of so heinous an act…” Galvreth mournfully said.

“We do not yet know what really transpired,” Elivorn cautioned. “We only suspect.”

“That he did not tell the truth or that he embellished it?” Galvreth demanded. “Either way he has stained our honor. I pray that our suspicions are wrong but, alas, knowing him of late, I fear they are not.”

They hastened on down the hallway.

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

Glossary:

laer - Sindarin for summer

Peredhel - Half-elven/Half-elf

ellyn - male Elves

dam - mother (archaic)

Adar - Father

To be continued…
- 17
- 18
- 19
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness