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Greenleaf & Imladris 7 - Forbidden Fruit	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 3382 -:- 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-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 1
- 2
- 3
Part II

It was nearly five years before the rhythm of his life was broken once more. Change descended on the Woodland Realm. Change in the forms of the sons of Elrond.

The brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, rode into Mirkwood in the fifth summer after Sirgon’s return. Sirgon watched curiously from the great stone doors of the royal halls as the party of Rivendell Elves approached. He studied the brothers with interest. They, too, had changed, he realized. Their lineage shone through even more distinctly now that they were grown men. Fair of face and noble of carriage were the twin lords of Imladris.

Hardly had they brought their steeds to a stop when they swiftly dismounted. Sirgon’s attention was drawn to Legolas as the prince moved forward to welcome the new arrivals. It was then that he was struck by the difference in the prince’s demeanor with them.

As soon as he reached them, the two Elvenlords each drew him into a heartfelt embrace. And then Sirgon saw the prince’s smile. He was beaming widely, his eyes sparkling with mirth. And when he laughed at some amusing remark Elladan uttered, it occurred to Sirgon that he’d never seen Legolas thus with any friend in the five years since his return to the Woodland Realm.

His face was transformed. He had dropped his customary restraint and was as open and merry as any Wood-elf under Thranduil’s rule. As he led the twins into his father’s halls, he fondly linked arms with them. Sirgon followed them, forgotten for the moment. The Elf felt a twinge of envy as he listened to their conversation.

“It has been long since your last visit, gwedeir nîn”—my sworn brothers—Sirgon heard Legolas say.

“Too long,” Elladan agreed. “But you have not graced Imladris with your presence either for many a year.”

“Aye, that is true, but my duties have kept me here. Dol Guldur’s influence has been spreading. We have been hard-pressed to protect our borders.”

“We have had news of that from Mithrandir,” Elrohir said. “‘Tis good that things have not been so evil this year. ‘Twas not so difficult getting over the mountains.”

“Well, even had it been, we still would have come,” Elladan smiled. “Friendship is worth risking much for.”

“That is heartwarming to hear,” Legolas responded. “Perhaps I shall be able to get away for a spell and visit Imladris again.” He suddenly stopped, pulling the brothers back with him. “Ai, I had forgotten. There is someone here you will wish to see.” He turned of a sudden, making Sirgon start. “I believe you had the opportunity to meet Sirgon during your sojourns in Lothlórien?”

The twins’ eyes widened at first sight of the lately returned Elf then both grinned warmly. “Sirgon! So you have indeed returned to Mirkwood,” Elrohir said, going forward to grasp the other’s hand in welcome.

Sirgon shyly nodded. He was not all that comfortable with Elrond’s sons. He was always too conscious of their exalted lineage. He tried to smile a little more warmly as Elladan, too, greeted him with friendliness.

“You did not spend much time with us in the Golden Wood,” the older twin told him. “Mayhap you will feel more at ease with us now that you are home. I dare say you were never truly content in Lórien.”

Sirgon was surprised at Elladan’s perceptiveness. He had not expected that either twin had guessed the reason behind his past reticence or sensed his longing to return to the Woodland Realm.

“Lothlórien is beautiful and enchanting,” he finally managed to say. “But I never stopped yearning for Greenwood.”

“Even with the shadow upon it?” Elladan queried.

“It is still home to me,” Sirgon replied.

“Yet you lived far longer in Lórien than you ever did here,” Elrohir remarked.

“‘Twas my mother’s home. I never quite felt that I belonged there,” Sirgon said, feeling some annoyance at the other Elf’s words. Why, he could not explain.

“Mayhap you missed your friends,” Elrohir said gently. “All the times we saw you in the Golden Wood, you always seemed to be by yourself.” He grinned at Legolas suddenly. “Surrounded by some of the most beauteous Elf-maids in Middle-earth and what does he do? Hie off into the trees to sing by himself!”

Sirgon flushed. So the twins had marked his solitude as well. Did nothing escape their eyes? Legolas was grinning as well.

“That explains something,” he said. “I have been trying to get him to pay heed to the fair ones of Mirkwood to no avail. But if he, as you say, did not notice the maidens of Lórien, I now see why my efforts failed.” The brothers chuckled in return.

Sirgon felt his stomach turn. For some unfathomable reason, he was disturbed by the prince’s words. And he felt less at ease than ever seeing the others’ amusement. He knew they were not laughing at him yet he could not stop himself from feeling hurt. And it did not help matters when Legolas linked arms with them once more as they proceeded deeper into the halls of the palace.

They had begun to speak of things they’d experienced together, adventures they’d shared, matters he had no knowledge of. Here and then their laughter punctuated the quiet of the corridors. And again Sirgon noted Legolas’ demeanor. Unrestrained, merry, openly affectionate with the twins.

Logic told Sirgon that this should not surprise him. Elladan and Elrohir were the sons of Elrond, equals of the youngest prince of Northern Mirkwood whether in comeliness, heritage or power. With them Legolas had no need to maintain his reserve or guard his tongue. Logic told Sirgon that this was so. But logic could not still the sudden fit of jealousy that smote his heart.

Life in Mirkwood soon took a livelier turn as the twins made their presence well known. Maturity had not robbed them of their ebullience or wicked wit, which seemed to find expression each time they came to the green wood for a visit. It was quite befuddling considering what was known of their demeanor in Rivendell. Back home, they were the most dignified and dutiful of warrior princes, fiercely protective of the folk, Elven and otherwise, who looked to their family for guidance or safety, relentless in their dedication to maintaining the well-being and security of their valley realm and only rarely given to the pranks they had once been so famous for in their long-ago early youth. It was as if the necessary repression of their lively spirits in Rivendell impelled them to give said spirits full vent whenever they could throw off the encumbrances of their princely roles.

Thranduil was oft seen to roll his eyes in very unkingly fashion as many a tale reached his ears regarding the activities of his son and his noble guests. Nightfall would invariably herald one version or another of a growled, “What have I done that the Peredhel saw fit to foist his twin terrors upon me?” And on occasion he was heard to remark with exasperation, “Thank the Valar Legolas has no twin! I should pass sooner to Aman if there were two of him to plague me. For the life of me, I cannot fathom how Elrond and Celebrían have managed to keep Imladris from falling apart with those two around.”

To Sirgon, though, it was not the brethren’s predilection for mischief that soured his outlook toward them. It was their closeness to Legolas that kindled his dislike. Until their coming he had felt secure in the kindness his friend had shown him. Had admittedly felt some pride in the fact that Legolas seemed to spend more time with him than any of the other friends such as Mithrael and Heledir who had lived out their whole lives within his circle of influence.

Now he understood how naïve he had been. There was no comparing his friendship with Legolas and that which the prince enjoyed with the Imladrin lords. Indeed, they were closer than friends; they were sworn brothers. Together they formed a triumvirate that was so complete there was no place for others to try and fit in, not even the prince’s own brothers. Sirgon felt the exclusion even when he was included in their activities.

He felt it most keenly during one hunting trip.

They travelled to the northernmost regions of Mirkwood, far from the glens of the great spiders that infested the south. After a successful day’s hunt they set up camp in a secure clearing rather than make the long trek home in the dark. For Mirkwood by day could be very dark indeed and the forest by night was all but a lightless place.

Sirgon observed Legolas as he sat cross-legged beside Elrohir before the campfire. Elladan, cleaning his knife, had settled himself nearby. While the meats roasted, wine and ale were passed around and the group soon relaxed into merriment.

“I only wish it was not so dark and stuffy,” Elrohir was heard to complain. “You cannot even see the stars from down here.”

Legolas grinned. “Feeling a little hemmed in, my good Elf?”

“So would you had you been born and bred where the open sky is a constant and not a rare sight!” The raven-haired Elf shook his head. “I wonder that you do not feel the gloom about us. I have never gotten used to it.”

“We must cheer you up then,” Legolas said. “Stars we cannot offer you but music and song there is aplenty.”

Responding to the prince’s words, one of the Mirkwood Elves pulled out a flute and began to play it while another burst into a lively song. He was soon joined by others and the music of their fair voices filled the very air with enchantment. Before long, it was apparent that Elrohir’s spirits had lifted for he was seen to smile and utter a jest or two.

Sirgon had not joined in the singing, content as he was to simply watch and listen. It was then that his life changed forever.

Just as the last song ended, a voice softly began another. The flutist swiftly took up the melody. Sirgon started when he realized to whom the voice belonged. It was Legolas.

Silence fell upon the group as they all turned to listen to their prince. Sirgon was entranced. He had never before heard Legolas sing alone. The sound of his clear melodious voice filled him with indescribable emotion.

Of a sudden, as Legolas ended one verse, Elrohir joined in with another. The song turned magical. Soon Sirgon realized they were singing in counterpoint to each other. And they were doing so with an ease that evidenced long familiarity with one another.

He felt his heart tighten. Here was the closeness he so longed for and could not be a part of. He drew his breath in sharply when a third voice joined in, adding yet another level of enchantment to the music. ‘Twas Elladan, slipping in as smoothly and easily as his brother had done. The feeling of envy grew within Sirgon’s chest.

They knew Legolas as well as he knew them, which was very well indeed. How often had they sung thusly together? How much time had they spent in each other’s company? From the look and sound of it, more time than Sirgon could bear.

When the song ended, there was much praise and applause. Sirgon noticed that Legolas beckoned to Elladan to join him and Elrohir. But not himself he noted with a pang. In the twins’ presence he had faded into the background. Legolas did not ignore him but he did not draw him into the intimacy of his relationship with the brothers either.

Sirgon could not help feeling resentful of the Elves who had stolen the prince’s attention. He wished they would end their visit and depart from Mirkwood. He longed to settle once more into the comfortable rhythm of life where he was more often than not in Legolas’ company. So deep was he in his pensive thoughts he did not realize the meats were done until they began to pass it around along with bread and fruit.

Sirgon watched as the younger twin leaned over to murmur something to the prince. Legolas burst out laughing. The sound made Sirgon swallow hard.

Elladan looked suspiciously at his brother and friend and demanded to know what they had found amusing. When his twin responded, the Elf was seen to gasp in outrage. To the vast amusement of the others, the brothers plunged into a rapid exchange of caustic barbs and pointed observations. Sirgon, not yet quite used to their ways, was alarmed at first but a look at the mirth of the others soon told him that this was but another episode in the continuing saga of the Rivendell twins.

Legolas was certainly enjoying himself, Sirgon noted. His eyes were bright with joy and his smile lit up his entire countenance. Sirgon stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Valar, he is even more beautiful than I first thought, he realized. It was at that moment that Legolas turned his head and looked in Sirgon’s direction.

Their eyes met. Sirgon held his breath as, in that brief moment, Legolas smiled at him, not with princely if gentle reserve as was his wont but with the same openness and merriment that he bestowed upon the twins. And then the moment ended and he turned back to his friends.

But Sirgon continued to stare. For him the spell was still strong. What has happened to me? he wondered. He could not tear his eyes from the prince, found himself hungrily studying his every feature, the lines of his form, and the grace of his every movement. For the first time, something else stirred within him. As he recognized the feeling, his wonder changed to fear and the fear swiftly evolved into panic.

I should not feel this way, he thought with dread. I should not desire him!

The twin’s combat of wits had ended in a draw. With a chuckle, Legolas relaxed and leaned back against Elladan who automatically curled a supporting arm around the prince’s shoulder. Elrohir pulled a strip of meat from his roast venison and offered it to Legolas. Instead of taking it with his fingers, the prince grinned and let his friend pop it into his mouth.

Jealousy flared hot in Sirgon’s heart. The extent of their closeness wounded him. He found everything the brothers did to have hidden meaning and it irritated him no end.

He was annoyed by the sight of Elladan’s arm wrapped so familiarly around Legolas’ shoulders; did not approve of the way Elrohir’s fingers lightly touched the prince’s lips as he fed him bits of roast meat and bread. He scowled as Elladan bent over to whisper into Legolas’ ear, his lips close to the other’s face, his words bringing the light of mischief into the prince’s azure eyes. And when Elrohir came up with some well-placed jibe at his brother, he felt his heart constrict as Legolas laughingly clapped his hand over the younger twin’s mouth lest another word war begin.

Small observations they were yet they loomed overly large in his thoughts. He had discovered something about himself and he did not know what to do about it.

He loved Legolas. Nay, that was not right. He, Sirgon, was in love with the youngest prince of the Woodland Realm. That was why he was desperately jealous of the brethren. He had lost his heart to the most unlikely person of all.

The question was, what was he to do about it? Indeed, what could he do about it?

To be continued…
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Greenleaf & Imladris 7 - Forbidden Fruit