Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

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.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter XVIII: Affirmation

Eryn Gael, Ithilien, Lothron FA 22

The binding Rites did not take place until nearly six weeks later despite Legolas’ protests. Their indulgence, no matter how soothing to the archer’s soul, had exhausted his body and retarded his recovery. Upon his return from the successful strike against the orcs, Elladan, knowing his twin all too well, had immediately discerned the cause of the prince’s slow healing and chided his brother with mingled exasperation and humor.

“You would think a healer would know better than to tire his patient beyond endurance!” he gibed the younger twin.

Chastened, Elrohir promptly delayed the holding of the ceremony and even moved out of Legolas’ chambers. The prince bore the enforced separation stoically though he chafed at what he considered an unnecessary delay of their binding. But then Elrohir further discomfited him in the days that followed after Elladan departed for Minas Tirith to await Nimeithel’s arrival. It started one evening after they had dinner.

“I would have you use the time to think over the seriousness of the Rites, melethron”—lover—Elrohir suggested.

Legolas glanced at him with upraised eyebrows. “What is there to think about?” he queried. “As it is, I deplore this delay. I will soon be hale and more than ready for the ceremony.”

Elrohir only regarded him speculatively then nodded. After a tender kiss, he retired to his own chamber. Again. It frustrated Legolas immensely though he understood the need for it.

But to his surprise the warrior continued to maintain his distance even after his injuries had completely healed and his strength had been fully restored. His dismay deepened when Elrohir even took to avoiding being alone with him. He remained as doting and loving as ever but he simply refused to be lured back into the archer’s bed.

He did not understand the darkling Elf’s strange evasiveness and since Elrohir would not explain his reasons, the archer was left to try and unravel the mystery by himself. He had to put quite a bit of effort into putting on a cheerful face when Elladan returned a few days later with his wife.

Unmindful of the small crowd of onlookers that gathered in the clearing to catch a glimpse of their lord’s sister, Nimeithel promptly and happily hugged Legolas then drew Elrohir into an elated embrace. After a merry few minutes of greetings, they entered the archer’s halls. A good thing for Legolas’ dignity considering the conversation that followed.

“I am so happy for you and Elrohir, muindoren”—my brother— Nimeithel chirped. “‘Tis about time you finally realized you belong together.”

“Tell that to Legolas,” Elrohir said with a wry grin.

Nimeithel giggled. “Forgive him, gwanur.”—kinsman. “He can be so mule-headed about these things. But as you can see, the truth will out in the end.”

Legolas, caught between laughter and a scowl at her irreverence, asked, “What truth?”

His sister beamed at him. “That you loved Elrohir all these years but were too stubborn to admit it.”

Legolas stared at her, startled. “Why do you say that, thel neth?”— younger sister?

“Oh, come now, you were never the same after you first yielded to him,” she replied.

Elrohir looked from her to Legolas, intrigued, especially when he saw the puzzlement in the latter’s countenance. “How was he not the same?” he questioned Nimeithel.

The princess willingly obliged. “Never again did he bed an Elf-maid with anything more than lust and he certainly did not yearn for any male’s touch; not even the aran Gondor’s at the height of his infatuation with him.”

Legolas nearly choked. “How did you know about that?” he gasped.

“You were so obvious when you returned to Greenwood after the War,” Nimeithel answered blithely. “You talked to me about nothing else but Elessar. You should have heard him, gwanur,” she addressed Elrohir with a droll roll of her lovely eyes. “I thought he would never stop!”

“Indeed,” Elrohir dryly said, turning mildly reproachful eyes on his lover. Legolas turned a deep red, whether out of embarrassment or guilt or both only he could say for certain.

Ignoring their byplay, Elladan stared at his wife. “But he loved Estel,” he said. “How could he not desire him?”

Nimeithel chortled and shook her head at her husband. “He thought himself in love,” she corrected. “Did I not say he was mule-headed? Just because Elrohir was free and Aragorn was not, what does he do but turn to the one he deemed unavailable and therefore safe. You are fortunate Elrohir did not give up on you so quickly, tôr vell”—dear brother—“else where would you be now?” She giggled at the varied expressions on the others’ faces.

“This is certainly interesting,” Elladan remarked glancing from his twin to the prince.

Elrohir, smirking, nodded in agreement. “Aye, this certainly is.”

Legolas prudently kept silent.

Nimeithel proved a welcome distraction, her wit and high spirits alleviating her brother’s frustration for a spell. But even that could not last and soon he was back where he started, as much in the dark as ever and striving to keep his sister from noticing it, a mighty feat in its own right. He was at his wits’ end by the time Gondor’s royal family arrived for the ceremony with three befuddled hobbits in tow.

Samwise Gamgee, now third time mayor of the Shire, along with his dear wife, Mistress Rose, and their pretty daughter, Elanor, had been visiting with his old friend, Strider, when the missive from Eryn Gael was delivered to Gondor’s royal consorts. Naturally, Aragorn and Arwen had invited the Halflings to come along in order to witness the nuptials of Sam’s Elf friend. What they forgot to inform the three of was who it was Legolas would be bound to.

Therefore, it was with a good deal of shock, astonishment and wonder that the Gamgees learned the identity of the Elven prince’s betrothed. But after the initial surprise they swiftly accustomed themselves to the idea and threw themselves into the settlement-wide merriment with their typical hobbitish zeal for parties and feasts.

The reunion with the royal family threatened to be more awkward. Until this moment, Legolas’ communications with them had been purely through courier-borne letters. Elladan, having been given leave to reveal the whole truth to them, had already done so. Thus the invitation had not been a shock to them. Nevertheless, the memory of uncivil words hung between them and forebode an uneasy first meeting even with the tempering presence of Elladan and Nimeithel.

But Eldarion would have none of it. Hardly had Legolas conducted Sam and his family to their quarters and returned to the main hall where the others awaited when the youth regretfully hugged the archer. There was no need for words between them after that.

Arwen soon replaced her son in the startled Elf’s arms. That she was now huge with child and more than filled his embrace to capacity may have had a little to do with his surprise. Taking Legolas aback by beating him to it, the Queen apologized to her soon-to-be law-brother with all alacrity.

“I was too harsh with you, gwador”—sworn brother—she murmured contritely. “All I can say in my defense is that I feared for my brother’s life. Will you forgive me?”

Legolas regarded her gently. “You have ever been fierce when it comes to your family’s welfare,” he said. “I would not have you any other way, Arwen. And you did right to assail me. I did not treat Elrohir as he deserved and for that I must ask you to forgive me.”

Arwen simply hugged him harder. They both glanced up as Aragorn cleared his throat and looked at Legolas quite repentantly.

“I, too, must ask your pardon, meldiren”—my friend—he said. “After all we went through together during the Quest, I should have realized that you were incapable of hurting Elrohir intentionally. I fear I was too protective of my brother’s heart.”

With apologies flying to and fro, the mood bid fair to turn maudlin. No wonder Elladan thought to take a hand in the proceedings.

“Aye, you have ever been protective of Elrohir, Estel,” he grinned. “But then that is not surprising considering how notoriously attached you were to him in your youth.”

To the others’ surprise, Aragorn turned a bright scarlet and suddenly could not quite look Elrohir in the eye. Eldarion glanced at his Elf-uncle curiously.

“What is wrong with Adar?”—Father?—he asked.

“Elladan...” Elrohir said warningly though a smirk blunted his biting tone.

Elladan ignored him. “Why, nothing, pen neth”—young one—he said to Eldarion. “Except...do you recall why I took you whoring in Edoras six summers ago?”

Eladarion colored slightly but nodded. “Aye, ‘twas because Naneth did not wish for me to follow the ancient path.”

Arwen smiled and shook her head. “Nay, ‘twas not that I feared you would follow the path but that once on it you might choose as my brother did. ‘Tis not the way of Men and I did not think it wise for you to ever consider exploring it.”

Eldarion grinned. “Well, whatever your reasons, Nana”—Mama—“Uncle Elladan certainly took care of it!”

“As I did for your father,” Elladan announced to the king’s dismay. He chuckled as Aragorn shook his head at him almost frantically. “Only it was not simply the awakening of our duality in him that your Grandfather Elrond feared but an unseemly devotion to Elrohir himself!”

Four sets of eyes stared at him in shock. Then almost simultaneously, Legolas, Arwen and Eldarion snapped their stares at an almost cringing King of Gondor.

“Aragorn!”

“Estel!”

“Ada!”

Nimeithel did not quite know what to make of her husband’s revelation. “I cannot believe this,” she gasped. “Elessar was infatuated with Elrohir?!”

Aragorn sputtered at the idea. “‘Twas hero-worship!” he objected. “I was but a lad!”

He started when Arwen stepped in front of him with a menacing glare. “Hero-worship indeed!” she said acidly. “Answer me this, husband. Who was it that really stayed you against Legolas’ charms? I or my brother?”

Another round of shocked reactions figuratively shook the hall. Aragorn stared at his wife as did Legolas.

“You know? How did—?”

Nimeithel tapped her brother’s arm ruefully. “I fear ‘tis my doing,” she admitted. As all eyes turned to her, she shrugged. “Well, I wanted to set things right between you and Arwen so I told her something of your troubles that she might better understand your behavior.”

Aragorn muttered: “You are indeed Elladan’s wife.”

Arwen’s expression grew even more suspicious. “I am awaiting an answer, Estel,” she reminded him.

Faced with a patently displeased wife, Aragorn blurted out unthinkingly: “Arwen, do not be absurd. I simply did not feel for Legolas as he did for me.”

Legolas suddenly bristled. “Let me make one thing clear before this ridiculous situation worsens,” he growled. He addressed Arwen. “Idiot that I was, I mistook certain feelings for more than they really were. But now I can and shall say this. I do not love Aragorn in that way nor did I once or ever will.”

He turned to Aragorn and of a sudden jabbed an accusing finger into the thoroughly flustered monarch’s chest. “And I would know your answer to Arwen’s question before I ever leave Elrohir alone with you again for any length of time!”

The sight of his masterful sire retreating before his mother and the archer was too much for Eldarion to bear. The Crown Prince of Gondor whooped with laughter and began to shake so violently that Nimeithel had to steady him. His mirth grew even heartier as he listened to his father stumble and blunder through a series of explanations and protestations to his queen and erstwhile quest-companion respectively.

Elrohir rolled his eyes then glanced at his twin. A fond smile curved his lips.

“Thank you, gwaniuar”—older twin—he chuckled.

Elladan snickered back. “You’re very welcome, gwanneth.”—younger twin.

It was fortunate for Aragorn that another party arrived within the day.

Legolas had also taken care to invite Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, his wife, Éowyn, and their son and heir, Boromir. Faramir was, after all, his direct overlord and courtesy required that Legolas inform him at the very least. But the Steward of Gondor was also a good friend and close ally and that alone would have prompted the invitation.

As to what Eowyn and Boromir would make of the binding of male and male spirit, he trusted the learned steward-prince to elucidate the matter to them. The only caveat in the missive he’d sent to Emyn Arnen was that the occasion be kept a secret from the rest of Gondor. Legolas was not about to set Elessar’s more hostile nobles against himself by having it known he’d taken the king’s foster brother as his spouse. As he put it in the letter to Faramir, most Men simply did not understand many elven customs, least of all one that was deemed unnatural by them.

Last to show up was a patently smug Gimli whose first words to his friend after the usual greetings bewildered everyone else.

“Legolas,” Aragorn said with a furrowed brow. “Why did Gimli shout ‘In a pig’s eye’ at you?”

A rosy-faced Legolas was perforce compelled to recount to the whole group what he and the Dwarf had argued about in Rohan more than two decades ago. It certainly provided a most lively discussion at the evening meal much to his discomfiture and Gimli’s glee. He was greatly relieved when the women turned the talk to the upcoming festivities.

The colony was in a state of anticipation. There was great joy and excitement at the imminent joining of the two Elvenlords, one a prince of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm, the other twin Lord of Imladris and scion of the former rulers of the Galadhrim of Lothlórien. The folk of the Glimmering Wood understandably rejoiced at this binding of two such noble houses.

But Legolas could not quite share in the gaiety. Not when his betrothed seemed lacking in enthusiasm about the upcoming nuptials. He’d thought that things would go back to normal with the arrival of family and friends for Elrohir had remained by his side throughout. But as soon as everyone settled in he reverted to his previous evasive behavior. And with guests everywhere, it became even more difficult for the archer to pin his lover down. It just about drove Legolas into fits of melancholy and exasperation.

He was quite sunk in one such fit when Arwen inadvertently brought things to a head.

Dispirited by Elrohir’s behavior, he made his way to the glade that was his sanctuary. By the soothing gurgle of the spring and its waterfall, he hoped to balm his ruffled feelings. So it was with surprise and some resentment when he caught sight of Elrohir strolling nearby with Arwen, so deep in discussion with her that he did not sense the archer’s presence.

He pursed his mouth disapprovingly. He’d always considered the glade a secret place, a private refuge to be shared only with the Elf-warrior. What had possessed Elrohir to bring his sister here? He watched as the twin soon walked away, leaving the Queen seated upon a fallen tree. He wondered where Elrohir was going and why he had left his so-very pregnant sibling behind.

A moment later, Arwen espied him and smilingly beckoned to him. Caught, he could only accede to her friendly summons.

“Are you comfortable, gwathel?”—sworn sister?—he asked as he neared her.

“Well enough,” she replied.

He eyed her alarmingly wide girth. “You are all but ready to burst,” he said with a grin. “Indeed, we feared you would not be able to travel here.”

Arwen dimpled. “I would not miss this for all the mithril in Moria,” she said. She sighed and adjusted her position, instinctively rubbing her swollen belly with her hand. “Ai, may this little one wait a little longer. I do not wish to birth in front of all Eryn Gael!”

Worried, Legolas looked about for her brother. Elbereth forbid that the Queen should whelp here without anyone to assist her save for a Wood-elf ignorant of such matters.

“Why did Elrohir leave you here?” he queried.

Arwen’s smile faded somewhat. “To think on what we were discussing,” she replied.

“A discussion that looked quite ponderous from where I was standing,” Legolas commented.

The Queen looked up at him thoughtfully. “You were an intrinsic part of it,” she softly admitted. “Elrohir seeks to ascertain your feelings regarding your binding-to-be.”

“My feelings?” Legolas perplexedly echoed,

“Yes, ernilen.”—my prince. “He wishes to ascertain just how deep your feelings run before you take this irrevocable step.”

“I do not understand.” Legolas frowned. “Does he doubt my sincerity?”

“Nay, not your sincerity but your – commitment to this course.” Arwen noted his startled reaction. She pressed on gingerly. “Just seven months past, you declared yourself incapable of returning his love, of cleaving your heart to his. Now you would be his binding-mate for all eternity.” The Queen hesitated upon seeing the prince’s wary expression. “The meat of the matter is this,” she said at length. “Are you certain of your feelings about this? It would be a tragedy should they change after you have taken vows. There is no breaking such a bond in Arda.”

Indignant words itched to escape Legolas’ lips but he was so taken aback by his discovery that his voice failed him. Before he could break the strained silence, it was broken for him.

“Aye, I would know if there is any doubt in your heart, Calenlass.”

The prince turned sharply to face Elrohir. He’d been so disconcerted by Arwen’s words that he had failed to notice the other’s return. He peered at the twin, searching his impassive countenance. Suspicion flared up within him.

“You do doubt me,” Legolas hissed, hurt springing to his eyes. “You think me inconstant, unworthy of your trust.”

“Legolas—”

“Do you wish to call off the Rites, Elrohir?”

Elrohir stared at him. “What makes you think that?”

The archer trembled visibly. “You delayed them beyond the time I had desired. And then you forsook my company pleading my wounds as your excuse. But even when I had healed, you still shunned my—” He stopped abruptly, blushing as he recalled Arwen’s presence. With a frustrated groan he turned away, clenching his fists at his sides.

Arwen rose from her perch as swiftly as her advanced condition allowed her. “I think I had best leave you two to settle this matter,” she murmured. At Legolas’ concerned backward glance, she added, “Do not worry, gwador. I am not yet so far gone as not to be able to manage the short walk back to your halls.”

As soon as she departed, Elrohir placed soothing hands on the archer’s tense shoulders. “You misunderstand my intentions, Legolas.”

“Then why your distance?” the archer asked dolorously. “Why did you stay away?”

“I wanted to give you time and space to reconsider.”

“Reconsider what?”

“Your decision to commit yourself to me.”

“You suggested this before but I did not realize...” Legolas spun around, his eyes wide with pain and confusion. “You do not trust me,” he whispered. “You think me capable of breaking even the most sacred of vows.”

“Nay, I know you would never break a vow no matter how onerous it could come to be,” Elrohir demurred. “And for that reason I would not have you make them at all rather than have you repent of them after. But trust you I do, with my life if need be.”

“Then why do you question my heart?”

“Because you are newly come to love. I have known my heart for centuries uncounted. You owned it ere you ever wanted it. But you have only opened yourself to me this past year. I do not want you trapped for all time by dint of a rash decision.”

“‘Tis no rash decision,” Legolas chokingly said. “I spent a half-year thinking of nothing else. I may not have known my heart for long but I know it well. I want this, Elrohir. I want to join my life to yours.”

Elrohir was tempted to take him at his word that very instant. Nonetheless, he pressed on with his benign inquisition. The afternoon was wearing on and he had to be sure that they were doing the right thing.

“Are you absolutely certain of this?” he softly queried. “‘Tis eternity we speak of. Should you regret your choice, there will be no turning back. I would not have you burdened by a joining you can never escape.”

“It would be a greater burden to be denied eternity with you. I cannot conceive of life without you. Why do you question me so, Aduial?” Fear leapt into his eyes as a new idea arose to plague him. “Is it that you no longer desire this?” he gasped. “Do you regret that you bound yourself to me?”

Elrohir was caught unawares by the allegation. “Nay! I have never regretted that!” he exclaimed when he found his tongue. “If I do this ‘tis not because I do not want you but because I wish to protect you.”

“By breaking my heart?”

The crystalline eyes gleamed with suspicious brightness. With a pang, Elrohir realized the archer was close to tears and manfully holding them back. Stricken with remorse at reducing the proud prince to such a state, he pulled him into a tight embrace, burying his face in the golden mane.

“Forgive me, Legolas,” he whispered at length, drawing slightly away. “‘Twas never my intention to hurt you. In truth, had I my wits about me when you first broached this matter, I would have urged you to think on it. I only want what is right for both of us.” He felt the lean form stiffen in his arms and hastened to add: “If you are certain of your choice, if you would truly join your heart to mine, then we shall bind to each other this day.”

Legolas took a deep breath. His eyes blazed with conviction as he said: “I am certain of my choice, Elrohir. I would pledge my heart to you now and for all eternity.”

Elrohir caught his breath. The words were as close as could be to the actual vows spoken during the Rites. There was no doubting Legolas’ commitment to him. He drew the prince back into his arms. “So be it,” he quietly declared.

For a few minutes, they stayed thus, savoring their renewed closeness. But the archer could not remain relaxed for long.

“Why did you not tell me of your concerns?” Legolas asked vexedly against the twin’s shoulder. “You only spoke of it that once and I thought it of no great import to you.”

Elrohir sighed. “You can be as single-minded as a hobbit with a barrel of beer. You would never have agreed to think your decision over once you’d made it.”

Legolas pulled away, indignation in his countenance once more. “There was no need!”

“That is exactly what I knew you would say,” Elrohir commented wryly. “‘Tis why I did not press you after the first time I broached the subject. The more I suggested it, the more you would have resisted. But I also knew you would think on it on your own once I introduced the idea to you.”

“Aye, I did wonder about it though I did not change my mind in the least,” Legolas conceded. “But why did you stay away from me?” he demanded. “You knew I wanted you.”

“I did not want you to weaken my resolve in turn,” the Elf-warrior admitted. “One touch from you is enough to addle my brain, Legolas. I would have ended up influencing you into a decision of my own liking.”

Legolas let out an exasperated breath. “The workings of your mind are more tortuous than Mithrandir’s at his worst!” he chided. “And what of Arwen?” he queried tartly. “What did she tell you that made you go off by yourself? Was she trying to dissuade you?”

“Far from it,” Elrohir demurred. “On the contrary, she tried to make me see my folly.”

“Your folly?”

“Aye. She pointed out to me that had you entertained second thoughts you would have let me know by now.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed ominously making the Elf-knight suddenly uneasy.

“How ironic,” the archer remarked acerbically, “that your sister, who once thought I should be strung from the highest tree for denying you, now seems to trust me more than you do.”

Elrohir winced at the accusatory tone. “I suppose I deserve that,” he murmured ruefully. He reached out a supplicating hand. “I am sorry.” When Legolas’ did not respond, he let his hand drop resignedly. “Are you certain you still wish to bind yourself to me?” he asked meekly.

The blue eyes flashed. “Let’s not start that again!” Legolas growled.

He pulled the warrior into a near-backbreaking embrace and proceeded to kiss him senseless. Before long, his ardor was such that they were both shaking with want and might have succumbed to the rampant need to couple in that instant had Elrohir not recalled the reason for their argument in the first place.

With much regret, he broke the kiss, doing his best to ignore Legolas’ annoyed reaction. “The Rites begin at sundown, ind nîn”—my heart— he gently reminded the prince while insistently pulling him along. “We need to prepare ourselves.” When the mutinous expression on the other’s face did not quite fade away, he grinned cheekily and pointed out, “I would not have us tardy due to something we shall have ample time to indulge in after the ceremony.”

Legolas’ eyes glittered menacingly. “Then you should have ample opportunity to make amends for what you put me through!” he retorted.

“Calenlass, believe me when I say that is one duty I am looking forward to fulfilling,” the twin chuckled salaciously.

At that, Legolas’ mulish mood abruptly suffered a sea change. It was a fortunate thing (or regrettable depending on one’s point of view) that Gimli and Sam came strolling into view at that moment else the prince would have pounced on his Elf-knight right there and then. That would have delayed the ceremony beyond reason as well as rendered Dwarf and hobbit crimson beyond recognition.

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

Glossary:

Lothron - Sindarin for May

aran Gondor - King of Gondor

Ada - Papa

Naneth - Mother

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

To be continued…
- 18
- 19
- 20
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

Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince