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The Returned	By : Liliana Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 8591 -:- 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
Please note that the disclaimer and warnings for this story are given at the begining of the first chapter.
Author Notes:
Cassandra Rose: I shall try not to bring too many tears, I promise. :)
Kalima: I'm definitely with you on the " yearning" for elven worlds...and thank you.
Jayn: They won't meet just yet, but soon. :)
DarkDreamer: Yeah, Legolas being who he is, would indeed dash off after such news. Aaah, love. *wistfull smile*
~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER 19:
" Erandir!."
Feral yellow eyes looked over to the grassy spot where Erestor and Glorfindel lounged atop a blanket, next to two large picnic baskets that were filled with choice foodstuffs.
" Erandir!." The advisor called again, waving.
A wide, mischievous grin appeared on Erandir's face before he turned his back on the two elves, deliberately ignoring his older brother's obvious beckon, in order to continue splashing around in the shallow soreline waters of the Bruinen.
" Did he just...?." Erestor started to ask, his eyes widening.
" Aye. He most certaintly did." Glorfindel answered, raising an eyebrow.
A soft rustle of fabric was heard and Erestor, in spite of himself, found his gaze raking admiringly over the proud form of the Balrog Slayer, who had begun to walk determinately towards the water's edge. The sight kindled an unexpected hunger within the advisor. A hunger that had nothing to do with any of the appetizing aromas waffing from the baskets. And it seemed strange to be suddently gripped by remembered passion, when their conversation thus far had been as stilted and tentative as that of wary new aquaintances. But then again, though wary indeed, they were anything but strangers.
{ How many times did we hold one another through out our long centuries toguether?. How many times did I lay beneath him?. How many times did he do the same for me?. }
The intimate thought brought Erestor's own unacknowledged, yet ever-present longing for his mate, to the fore. A longing that encompassed much more than the pleasures of the flesh. A longing for Glorfindel's laughter, for his irritating practical jokes, for his witty conversation, for his tender hugs, for his spontaneous bursts of song, for his comforting strengh, for his unwaring love...
The normally cold face of the advisor softened, his lips curving into a dreamy smile as he watched Glorfindel reach the river's shoreline.
The object of Erestor's perusal was presently valiantly trying to cover up his own grin, as he stared at the broad expanse of Erandir's back.
{ " How many times did I have to fetch him thus, when he was small?. } Glorfindel thought, fondly recalling the occassional bouts of willfulness exhibited by an impudent, dark-haired elfling.
With some effort, the warrior managed to compose his expression into one of proper parental sternness.
" Erandir." He said, with a tone to match.
The pointy tip of one dark, elongated ear twitched upon hearing the sound of the golden one's voice and Erandir turned back around, slowly.
" Out of the water. Now."
A very large, very wet and very contrite Erandir shuffled out onto the riverbank and Glorfindel, unable to keep up with his facade at the pitiful sight, finally gave into that grin, accompanying it with a good-natured chuckle. He bent down and picked up a towel that had been carelessly draped over a boulder, handing it over to Erandir with one hand, while patting him on one slumped shoulder with the other.
" Not mad. Here, dry off." He said, before turning to look over at Erestor.
Whatever words he had been about to say were lost when he beheld the beautiful expression on the advisor's face and all that came out instead, was a soft whisper of wonderment.
" Erestor..."
The sounds of the Bruinen, the surrounding forest, even the very grass beneath them, all seemed to disappear as the two elves, one standing, one sitting, became entranced by each other's eyes. And all the hurt between them, all the awckwardness, likewise disappeared, as they let their gazes speak the true feelings in their hearts. Perhaps they would have remained thus entranced for an eternity, but a lumbering form and the loud sound of a set of sniffing nostrils, finally broke the spell.
Time returned to normal and Glorfindel followed the obviously hungry Erandir back to the blanket, where Erestor was now busying himself with pouring a mild ale into one big, wooden mug and two, smaller glass goblets. And when the advisor placed the drinks into the hands of his companions, he let his fingers linguer upon Glorfindel's hand for just a little longer than necessary...
~~~~~~~~~~
" Here, my prince." Said one of the Mirkwood guards, handing Legolas a cup of fragrant cider that had just been heated over the campfire.
Legolas accepted it with a smile, then began to sip absentmindedly at the liquid, enjoying its warmth even though, like all elves, he was not truly susceptible to the bitter chill that had come to permeate the evening air.
They had reached the high pass cutting through the northern portion of the perpetually snowcapped Misty Mountains earlier that afternoon, having spent the better part of a week following the Old Forest Road as it crossed the tall-grassed plains that stretched out from their forest home. During that time, they had encountered two other groups of travellers. One, was a small band of dwarves that intersected their path shortly after they left the borders of Mirkwood. It was a rare sight indeed, because members of that sturdy race seldom ventured from their stronghold, deep within the Lonely Mountain. And not a particularly welcomed one, for relations between elves and dwarves were difficult, at best. Thus, they had given each other a wide berth, before continuing on their respective ways.
The exchange with the other group had been far more cordial. These were Dunedain Rangers, rugged men, but well respected by the elves not only for their skills, but also for their love of the natural world around them. And they had imparted some very useful imformation, having just crossed over the very pass the elves were headed to. No trace of the foul orcs had been found, they said, and though the temperatures had begun to dip rapidly, the pass remained easy to traverse.
The two parties had parted ways soon thereafter and the elves, heartened by these good tidings, had spurred their mounts onward...
{ The words of the rangers have proven true, thus far. } The prince now thought, taking another sip of the warm cider.
Still, sentries had been set at the perimeters of the camp and he, along with three others, would take their turn, come second watch. But until then, Legolas allowed himself to relax a bit and in doing so, found his thoughts drifting back again to that very first afternoon he had spent in the company of a dark-haired Noldor, who would claim his heart...
~~~~~~~~~~
" Erandir." The stranger had said. " I am called Erandir. And who might you be?."
Legolas had actually briefly considered lying about his identity, for a part of him did not wish to feel the invisible barrier of rank come between them. But falsehoods were not easily uttered by the eldar and so, albeit a bit reluctantly, he told the other his name. Upon hearing it, the Noldor came to a sudden stop, slate-blue eyes widening as he took another look at his slighter companion. Then, with a courtly flourish, he bowed from the waist.
" I do not know what great deed this humble elf might have done that would merit the Valar sending such a well-pedigreed personage to escort me to these fabled hotsprings." He began as Legolas looked on, incredulously. " But I assure you, I am most grateful." He then finished, grinning widely as he straightened back up.
For the next few moments the prince just continued to stand there, gaping. In truth, the Noldor's words might have been misconstrued as somewhat disrespectful, were it not for the good humor showing in his eyes. And so finally Legolas, becoming quite enchanted and relieved by the other's irrepresible manner, found his own sense of fun bubbling forth in an answering peal of laughter.
" Ah, meldir. Methinks that tongue of yours could manage to reduce even my adar, the King, to a fit of giggles...Though I would not recommend that you try to put it to the test." The prince chortled.
" Advice that I shall take to heart." Erandir retorted, with mock seriousness. " Now, about those hotsprings..."
The two had whiled away the rest of that afternoon in animated conversation, as they soaked in the luxuriously heated waters. Erandir displayed a seemingly endless amount of patience with the prince's innumerable questions about the world outside his sheltered woodland home, while still managing to satisfy his own curiosity about the Sindar. It was a conversation that continued well into the evening, as Legolas requested that Erandir sit beside him during the dinner banquet.
Being of a normally reserved and quiet nature, the prince had been well aware that his uncharacteristically vivacious manner at the feast was the cause of some bemusement among his kindred, particularly his adar. More than once, he had caught the speculative glances that Thranduil had cast in his direction. But Legolas cared not. Something vital had changed within him in the space of the last few hours he had spent in Erandir's company. The fluttering sensation he had experienced when he first beheld the Noldor had become a steady humming that coursed through out his body, awakening it to a new song. A song that the prince found he was eager to learn.
And when, much later that night, Legolas finally laid his head to rest upon his pillow, it had been with the sweet sound of one name to carry him off into pleasant reverie.
Erandir...
TBC...
- 18
- 19
- 20
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The Returned