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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter XIX: Recovery

Field of Cormallen, Ithilien, Gwirith

It was with much appreciation and some amusement that Elrohir watched Legolas give himself a thorough wash at one side of the tent. It was just an hour past the evening meal and the younger twin lay comfortably on a soft pallet, modestly covered by a blanket, after having been tended to and bathed by the archer. For though his shoulder was on the mend, it still gave him some grief. Elladan had thus ensured that he did not move it or his arm overmuch.

Since discovering his darkling mate unconscious amidst the dead that littered the barren field before the Black Gate, Legolas had doted upon Elrohir most effusively. So vigilant was he in his care of the injured Elf-knight that he refused to leave his side for more than the few minutes it took to fetch his meals or the water for his ablutions. Hence the archer would not even venture down to the river’s edge to bathe with the other soldiers. That would keep him from Elrohir’s side far longer than he liked.

Elrohir did not begrudge him his protectiveness. What lover could withstand the emotion especially in the wake of near disaster? Besides, it afforded him such charming sights as the one that played out before him now.

The archer stood clad in naught but his long breeches. With meticulous care, he laved his face, arms and torso, scarcely a drop of water falling to the grassy ground. Even his hair did not escape attention – Elrohir smiled as the shining sheath was deftly rinsed and wrung. He could almost smell the sweet scent that perpetually clung to Legolas’ golden tresses.

Done with his upper body, the Wood-elf toweled himself dry and drew on a loose shirt. Only then did he shed his breeches and begin the bathing process anew. The Elf-knight’s eyes glittered with more than mere appreciation as certain body parts were attended to. In some ways, this partial stripping could be as titillating as the full baring of the archer’s charms, he mused.

Legolas was no prude to bathe in this manner. But there were and always would be Men who were. Not all humans were comfortable with the notion of nakedness amongst their fellows, more so with the less battle-hardened youngsters who hailed from the more rustic and all too often conservative countryside. And more of them had poured in, summoned along with supplies to the camp the victorious army of the West had set up on the Ithilien side of Anduin on the newly named Field of Cormallen. Even the mere mention of the subject of coupling was enough to reduce some of these callow youths to the fiercest of blushes.

It should not have been a problem within the confines of the tent the brethren ostensibly shared but which more often than not housed Legolas rather than Elladan. But folk were always coming and going and oft without asking for so much as a by your leave. Privacy was near non-existent in the camp. War, even its aftermath, seemed to have knocked most people’s manners out of them.

As such, Legolas was taking no chances that someone might walk in on him stark naked and then go off spouting nonsense about the shamelessness of Elves. Elladan had already lent some credence to that ridiculous assumption the very first morning after the camp’s establishment. A youngling – a messenger from Éomer – had stumbled upon the Elf-warrior while he was sorting out his and Elrohir’s belongings, separating fresh raiment from soiled ones. With nary a stitch on. With typical aplomb, Elladan had ignored the lad’s shocked gape and calmly continued with his task while Elrohir encouraged the boy to stutter his message. The young Rider had then fled the tent, crimson to his very ears, and the younger twin had dissolved into bone-shaking laughter, which had done his shoulder no good at all.

Legolas could not be as cavalier as Elladan in this. The Wood-elven part of him reacted to such discomfort in ways he could not quite explain. Their embarrassment discomfited him in turn, rousing a modicum of unexpected modesty that made him uneasy about exposing himself to others, even those who were not at all bothered by dishabille amongst other men. And so he resorted to this cautious method of bathing. Better to be safe than ogled gracelessly, which was an almost expected hazard at present.

Sure enough, he had just donned fresh breeches when Merry and Pippin burst in without warning with a message from Aragorn. The Ranger was sending news of their victory north. Did the Elves have any dispatches they wished to include? A moment after they left, Gandalf entered with Elladan close upon his heels. The wizard inquired after the state of Elrohir’s shoulder then remarked to him and Elladan that Frodo and Sam’s healing sleep were doing wonders for them both and, in their capacity as healers, when did they think the hobbits would awaken.

Hardly had Gandalf departed when Imrahil quietly sought permission to enter the tent. Elrohir chuckled and remarked to Elladan: “Now there’s a man of good manners for you.”

After the prince exchanged greetings with them all, Elladan asked, “How does Elphir fare?”

Imrahil smiled and replied. “He is healing swiftly, thank Eru. The healers say he will experience lightheadedness once in a while for some days yet – the blow to his head was quite severe.” He looked at Elrohir, gratefulness in the depths of his grey-tinged aquamarine eyes. “That he is alive at all is your doing,” he told the Elf-knight. “You have my deepest gratitude.”

Elrohir’s eyes twinkled. “Well, someone had to see to your son’s well being considering that Elladan was so engrossed in yours,” he quipped. He grinned when faint color stained the prince’s sculpted cheeks.

Involuntarily, Imrahil glanced at the older twin. Whatever he saw in the other’s pewter eyes only served to deepen the blush that so charmingly suffused his comely face. Hastily repeating his thanks, he quickly took his leave. The brethren exchanged a look. Elladan grinned and called to Imrahil to wait for him. He joined the obviously flustered prince as the other slipped out of the tent. Elrohir subsided into silent laughter.

Legolas approached him curiously. “What was that all about?” he asked. “What is amiss between Elladan and Imrahil?”

Elrohir snickered. “Nothing is amiss, seron vell”—beloved—he replied. “But I wager Imrahil almost wishes that were so if only to spare him from blushing like a virgin lad.”

Legolas stared at his mate. “You don’t mean—?” At Elrohir’s affirming grin, he shook his head in protest though a smirk tugged at his own lips. “Nay, that is not possible. Imrahil is a man who also happens to be wed and quite besotted with his lady. That is the talk amongst his soldiers.”

Elrohir shrugged. “Imrahil bears elven blood – it is no surprise that he should know some of our desires as well. Yet I did not say Elladan would take things quite so far. Though you have to admit that flirtation has its moments. And the way Imrahil reacts to him is priceless.” His face turned thoughtful. “Still, I would not put it past my brother to have seen something of what is to come and decide to await it.”

Legolas sank down on one side of the pallet and looked down at the recumbent warrior. “Meaning you have foreseen something yourself,” he commented.

“Mmm, let us simply say that not only does Imrahil bear the blood but also very strongly at that,” Elrohir said. “You felt it yourself when you first spoke with him.”

The archer nodded. “Where it not for the fact that I knew him to be one of the lords of Gondor I might have mistaken him for a Peredhel at the very least.”

“Exactly.”

“But what does that have to do with anything?”

“His lady wife may be of the Dúnedain but she is wholly human.”

Legolas stared at Elrohir. “He will outlive her,” he blurted out.

Elrohir pursed his lips. “It would seem so,” he answered. “And I imagine Imrahil will be very lonely then. He said as much to Elladan before we marched to Mordor. He mentioned not wanting to be left alone while all whom he loved went before him.”

Legolas’ stare intensified. “You are implying that Elladan may step in at that point,” he said. “But then – that would still be years in the future and you have made it quite clear that your father’s departure for Aman is fairly close at hand. What of the constraint laid upon you?”

Elrohir sighed. “Neither Elladan nor I truly know what is in store for us now that we have chosen our fate. We cannot say with any precision what close at hand might mean to Adar”—Father—“or that the constraints of our choice cannot be altered to some extent. But we both believe that we have more leeway than Arwen does. You have to understand – though the choice was left to us it has ever been the Valar’s hope that we would join ourselves to the Eldar. It is likely they would – reward us to some extent now that we have done as they desire. That is, if it is within their power to grant.”

Legolas gazed at him them leaned down and kissed him. Drawing back slightly, he gazed longingly at Elrohir. “I hope so,” he whispered.

Elrohir suddenly pulled him back into another kiss. A groin-igniting one. He broke away, gasping at the wild sensations that raced through his body.

“Do not tease me so,” he rasped. “‘Tis bad enough that we must remain chaste without adding to my frustration!”

“And who says we must remain chaste?”

Legolas gaped at him. “Elrohir, folk oft enter this confounded tent without warning,” he reminded the warrior. “Would you have someone come upon us rutting? Why, it would be all over the camp that we are not only shameless but bizarre beyond redemption.”

“No one will come in, Legolas,” Elrohir told him. “Do you think Elladan left only to be with Imrahil? They stand outside the tent this very moment, guarding our privacy. Now, come here!”

Legolas protested as he was pulled closer. “We cannot do this. It will only slow your recovery!”

“And since when have you known more about the healing arts than I?” Elrohir snorted. “Strip, melethron.”—lover.

“But – but you cannot move overmuch—”

“And I will not. You will do the riding this eve.”

“Are you certain?” Legolas asked uncertainly though he began to strip swiftly, flinging his clothes about helter-skelter as he removed them. Elrohir laughed softly at his eagerness.

“More than certain, my prince,” he murmured and drew Legolas flush against him for scorching, breath-stealing kisses and caresses, proving that even with only one good arm, he could still inflame his golden spouse beyond bearing.

In sweet retaliation, Legolas yanked the blanket off him and proceeded to do what he’d been aching to do for several days now. Which was to remind Elrohir just to whom he belonged. Not that the Elf-knight had ever forgotten. Caught between laughter and moans, he bore Legolas’ exquisite torture for as long as he could before evincing his startling strength by one-handedly pulling the archer up to lie beside him once more that he might kiss and stroke him to distraction.

Before long, he had Legolas good and ready and bade him straddle his groin. The archer forgot all caution and decorum and simply sank down to impale himself upon Elrohir’s waiting shaft. The swift and sudden joining did not give either of them the time or thought to smother the sounds that escaped their lips.

Just outside, Imrahil paused in what he was saying to Elladan and glanced at the tent. He had heard the earlier sounds coming from within but since they had been muffled, he had managed to ignore them for the most part. Or at least not let them ruffle him too much. But this…! He felt Elladan’s amused gaze on him and blushed ever more deeply.

“They always do have the most lively conversations,” the Elf-warrior facetiously remarked.

Imrahil groaned inwardly and promised himself never to allow Elladan to involve him in such discomfiting situations again. He looked warily at the older twin and could not help noticing the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He groaned silently again. It would be easier to single-handedly bring down a herd of Mûmakil than resist Elladan’s potent blandishments.

*******

Minas Tirith, Lothron

The triumphant return to the City of the Kings and the festivities surrounding Aragorn’s coronation only temporarily assuaged Legolas’ fretting. He and Elrohir were to part once again when the brethren left with the Rohirrim for the Riddermark. They were setting forth to fetch their foster brother’s greatest reward. Their beloved Evenstar.

It would not be a long separation the archer knew. But with the knowledge of future partings crowding his thoughts – his sojourn with Gimli in Fangorn, the time he would need to settle his people in Ithilien, and, worst of all, the years after Elrohir departed for the Blessed Realm – well, just thinking about it was enough to plunge the Wood-elf into the blackest of moods.

The only thing that cheered him was the possibility broached by the twins that they may not need to depart for Aman with Elrond. All the more reason to meet with their father soonest. If anyone could make that plea on their behalf to the Valar and most likely have it granted, it was the most senior Peredhel in Middle-earth, the single surviving son of the Mariner himself.

And so Legolas did his best to put on a cheerful face and make the most of the remaining days before the twins left Minas Tirith to ride north. That this meant spending many portions of each day in Elrohir’s arms came as no surprise to those who knew them best. Truth be told, there was not as much time to be had for passionate unions as the lovers would have liked. In the heady days following the coronation, there was much work to be done and always a need for more and more hands to see to it. It was natural that Elessar would assign the most delicate or potentially problematic tasks to those he trusted most. The brethren were thus oft closeted with him in counsel or off to attend to one matter of import or another. As such, Legolas and Elrohir snatched what moments they could and coupled fervently whenever and wherever the opportunity presented itself.

Expressions of affection from loved ones come in all guises. In their case, this became evident in the collusion amongst Elladan, Aragorn, Gimli and Gandalf to help the lovers come together as oft as possible even for the briefest of periods. Legolas would always be grateful to the Ranger become King who stood guard one afternoon outside his own bedchamber to shoo away all and sundry lest they overhear from within what his Elf-brother and erstwhile Quest comrade had forgotten to stifle.

When the day of parting finally arrived, however, Legolas found he was no better prepared to cope with it than he’d been when he first learned of it. It made him wonder how he would endure any and all subsequent separations, all of them sure to be lengthier than this one.

“You will cope, lass vuil”—dear leaf—Elrohir murmured to him as they walked together to the stables outside the walls of the Citadel. “You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Your part in the Quest proved that to everyone.”

Legolas sighed as they entered the stables. “I know I will,” he conceded. “But coping is not the same as enjoying. I dearly regret making that bargain with Gimli. Mayhap I should call it off.”

“And regret the chance for the rest of your life?” Elrohir gently scoffed. “Do not go down that road, Legolas. You will visit Fangorn as you desired and you will enjoy it with all your Wood-elven heart. Memories will be all we shall have once we leave these shores. Store up as much as you can while you still call Middle-earth home.”

Legolas bit his lip then nodded. “I cannot deny that a part of me is – elated at having seen such wonders as I had never dreamed of. And after our stay in Ithilien… Its woods call to me, Elrohir. Even more than Mirkwood ever did. I feel as if something has awakened in me that lay asleep for so long.”

Elrohir smiled and lifted a hand to caress his cheek. They were quite alone in the building – there would be no one to witness any unseemly exchange between them and get the shock of his or her life.

“This is your chance to indulge what was so long withheld from you,” the Elf-knight said. “I have always thought you did not belong in the deeps of Mirkwood. Not even when it was unmarred by the Dark Lord’s touch did it seem a fitting place for one of your incandescence. I watched you in Ithilien and I agree with you wholeheartedly. You belong there.”

“For now,” Legolas said. “But the sea also calls to me and I know I will not linger long once my oath to Aragorn is fulfilled.” He looked wistfully at Elrohir. “Do you think there are woods of as much beauty in Aman?”

The twin drew him close, their foreheads touching. “I wager far more than what Middle-earth has to offer,” he murmured. “Do not fear, my Legolas. I will not make a home for us that you would not flourish in and if that means scouring Valinor for that perfect patch of woods in which to build our abode I will gladly do it.”

“Elbereth,” Legolas suddenly choked. “I do not want to think of that parting! It will be horribly lonely without you, seron vell.” He turned his face into Elrohir’s neck and tightened his hold on the Elf-knight. “Would that you did not have to leave. Would that we could always be together.”

Elrohir knew that the prince was referring as much to all their future separations as he was to the imminent parting. And that Legolas still harbored guilt at having, however unwittingly, contributed to them. He held his mate snugly, letting love and comfort wash over him. Glancing up, he espied Elladan and Imrahil at the stable doors. His twin winked at him while Imrahil rolled his eyes and hastily stepped away from the doors. Elrohir smirked.

“Come, ernilen”—my prince—he whispered. “I believe the loft is as good a place to say goodbye as any.”

Legolas lifted his head and stared at him in bemusement. “The loft?”

But he had no time to say more when Elrohir rakishly hauled him up the ladder to the hay-filled space above them. For the next several minutes or so, the most unlikely sounds resounded through the stables.

It was most fortunate horses could not tell tales, Elladan was heard to laughingly comment to a mildly chagrined Prince of Dol Amroth.

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

Glossary:

Gwirith – Sindarin for April

Lothron – Sindarin for May

To be continued…
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond