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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4698 -:- 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-Meeting
- 2-Learning
- 3-Restraint
- 4-Coping
- 5-Guile
- 6-Awakening
- 7-Undoing
- 8-Musings
- 9-Sojourn
- 10-Reckoning
- 11-Illumination
- 12-Avowal
- 13-Beloved
- 14-Visitations
- 15-Tryst
- 16-Choice
- 17-Torn
- 18-Resolve
- 19-Voyage
- 20-Fate
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter II: Learning

Midsummer’s Day TA 3019

There had not been in recent memory as many fair folk within Minas Tirith’s walls as those that escorted the Evenstar to the Guarded City. Elves from Rivendell, the Havens and the Golden Wood had come south to witness the third binding between the races of Elves and Men. Clad in silver and white, they inspired awe and admiration and, admittedly, even some yearnings of the flesh. But despite the presence of such magnificent Edhil as Celeborn and Galadriel and Glorfindel, Imrahil could not take his eyes off the Peredhil.

He had marveled at the comeliness of the Firstborn when they came to the gates of Minas Tirith. Certainly, he could not blame Aragorn for being so besotted with his bride or begrudge him the patently enthusiastic welcome he bestowed upon her. But he found himself wondering if her allure was as much because of her Peredhil heritage as her elvish beauty.

They were not like Men but neither were they completely akin to other Edhil, he realized. That set them apart and gave them an almost exotic appeal that lured mortals and immortals alike. In appearance alone they were somewhat different. Though taller and far more slender than humans, they were also more solid of frame than the Elves as evinced by Elrond and the twins’ broader shoulders and chests and Arwen’s more buxom figure.

They were beautiful beyond compare even amongst their own kind. Small wonder that Legolas was so enamored of Elrond’s younger son.

He observed the twins anew as he mingled with the wedding guests in vast Merethrond. The nuptial celebrations were winding down and already Aragorn had spirited his new queen away to their marriage chamber to the ribald remarks of kith and kin alike. That kith and kin included Elves had been a matter of astonishment to many. It seemed incongruous that such graceful, elegant creatures were capable of earthy utterances.

But the brethren Elladan and Elrohir had proven the most wicked tongued of all, actually reducing their king-brother to blushes with their lubricious rejoinders. Even as Imrahil had laughed himself breathless, he had wondered at their seemingly endless capacity for bawdy humor.

Was it only a few months ago that they had been in the thick of one of the bloodiest conflicts in Gondor’s history? Had these two merry beings actually taken part in the soul-rending battle before the Morannon? Yet Imrahil had vivid memories of their formidable abilities. Along with the Mirkwood Elf, they had evoked images of what an entire elven army of ancient times must have been capable.

Just as his eyes alighted on them, he became aware that they were watching him. And they were watching him with the same look of admiration with which the mortal guests continued to regard the Elves. That took him aback. What could they possibly see in him that was no doubt thrice as much in their fellows?

His gaze met Elladan’s for a moment. The older twin’s eyes glittered appreciatively. That effectively took Imrahil’s breath away and he averted his eyes. Elbereth! he thought in confusion. Why did that look affect me so? The last time he had felt almost as giddy was nigh two score years ago when he had won his lady wife’s heart. But even his feeling of elation then was nothing in comparison to the strange emotions the Elvenlord now elicited from him with no more than a gaze.

He shivered inwardly and hastened to join the company of his three sons. He had to rid himself of such unseemly reactions. In turning away, he missed the brethren’s amused smiles.

“I fear you have discomfited him, muindor”—brother—Elrohir grinned. “Truly, you must rein in your regard else you will have him fleeing to Belfalas.”

Elladan chuckled. “Did you mark his surprise at being perused so?” he commented. “You would think he was not aware of his beauty.”

“Most likely he is not,” Elrohir said. “Or does not give much import to it. But, aye, he is beautiful. It would not be surprising should one desire to know him more intimately.”

“I do not believe you care to incur Legolas’ ire,” Elladan idly chided him.

“And I was referring to someone else’s desire, not mine,” was Elrohir’s mild retort. His grin widened as his brother’s eyes turned back to the prince.

Imrahil was indeed a fine specimen of his race. Truth be told, he could even be mistaken for one of the Peredhil.

He had their height and lean frames coupled with the meatier limbs and wider shoulders of a man. But he was tanned where they were fair, his near golden complexion evidence of his sea-faring heritage. His countenance however was of such youth and comeliness that it was difficult to believe that this was a man in his sixty-fourth year of life. He looked no older than the youngest of his kinsmen and little more in years than his oldest son Elphir who was but in his early thirties. In Imrahil, the lore of elven forebears in Belfalas’ ruling family was shown to be founded on truth.

“Shall I ask him to join us tonight?” Elrohir offered.

Elladan glanced at his brother. “If it pleases you,” he replied casually.

Elrohir laughed softly. His twin could not hide his pleasure at the suggestion; not from him at any rate. “As it pleases you, it pleases me,” he said. And he left Elladan’s side to extend the invitation to the prince.

Which is how Imrahil came to be in the twins’ bedchamber that evening as they whiled away the last hours of the night with wine and talk and intermittent games of Strategy. While Legolas and the other members of the Fellowship shared a house near the White Tower, Elrond and his sons, being close kin to the King and Queen, had been provided with chambers within the great hall that presently served as the residential pavilion for the royal couple. As befit his position as the head of the one of the highest-ranking families in Gondor after the King’s, second only to the Steward’s, Imrahil had also been afforded quarters within along with his sons.

He watched Elrohir and Legolas with ill-concealed fascination. As he had told Elladan, he had read of such matters but to know something was vastly different from seeing it with his own eyes. The open affection with which the two treated each other was something of a novelty to him though, surprisingly, he did not find it abhorrent in the least.

“Would you care to satisfy my curiosity about something?” he said at length after watching a well-contested game between the Elf-knight and the woodland prince. At Elladan’s encouraging nod, he said: “I am not completely unaware of your kindred’s history. Mithrandir oft came to Dol Amroth when I was a lad and told me much about your realms up north. In particular, he told me of the Peredhil. Of your choice.” When none interrupted, he went on. “You speak of the future as if you will remain in Middle-earth even after Lord Elrond departs these lands.”

“We will remain,” Elladan affirmed.

“But are you not supposed to accompany your sire when he leaves?” Imrahil said with a frown. “Unless it is your intent to forfeit your immortality. And I cannot believe you would do that under the circumstances,” he added with a pointed look at Elrohir.

“Nor could I,” Legolas smiled, reaching across the gaming table to clasp the younger twin’s hand. “But it is already decided. He has chosen his fate.”

“And as my brother has chosen, so have I,” Elladan said. “But as to your question, ‘tis true that it was once demanded of us that we leave Middle-earth with our father.”

“But that changed when we made our choice ere that moment,” Elrohir continued. “We have been granted the grace to stay on in Middle-earth for a time. In return, we have vowed to take our leave of these lands when Círdan the shipwright chooses to go.”

Imrahil frowned. “And when will that be?” he asked.

The twins shrugged in concert. “We do not know,” Elladan said. “We only hope that it will not be before our sister bears her first child.”

“As things stand, Arwen may be the only one of us to spawn a new generation of Peredhil,” Elrohir smiled.

”And Legolas?” Imrahil queried, glancing at the archer. “Will he leave as well?”

“Only if Estel has passed from this world by then,” Elrohir sighed, looking at his mate.

“I swore to serve Aragorn until his dying day,” Legolas said. “Had I but realized what it would demand of us...” He returned Elrohir’s gaze sadly.

“We will be together once more, melethron”—lover—Elrohir softly reassured him. “Rest assured I will await you no matter how many years should pass.”

Imrahil stared at them with sudden understanding. He glanced at Elladan. “You told me that they were not yet bound but that is no longer true,” he stated.

“Ah, did Estel tell you?” Elladan asked.

Imrahil shook his head. “Nay, no one has said anything to me.”

“Then how did you know?” Legolas queried.

“I saw it in your eyes,” Imrahil said. “There is a connection between you that was not there before.”

The Elves stared at him in surprise then regarded him thoughtfully. So intense was their scrutiny of him that he began to feel uneasy.

“Fascinating,” Elrohir murmured.

“Aye, it is,” Elladan agreed. He addressed a confused Imrahil. “Only Elves can discern the marital state of other Elves in the manner you stated. For you to have done so makes you far more elven than any of us suspected.”

It was Imrahil’s turn to stare. “Then it seems the stories of my foremother are true after all,” he murmured.

“Why do you speak of her as if you doubt her existence?” Legolas asked curiously.

“Because many do doubt it,” Imrahil explained. “‘Tis often regarded as unfounded lore even amongst my own kin.”

Elladan shook his head. “‘Tis not unfounded in the least,” he said. “All Elfdom knows of Mithrellas and how she sought refuge for a while with Imrazör, the founder of your line. Indeed, it has always been a matter of puzzlement to us that their son, Galador, was not offered the choice of the Half-elven.” And then he grinned at the prince. “But then again, had the offer been made and had he chosen to be of the Firstborn, you may never have been born, O Prince.”

Imrahil had to smile. “Then it is fortunate the offer was never made,” he agreed. “Though it is just as possible that he might have chosen to be a Man. As your father’s brother did.”

“And as we might have,” Elladan added. “But for circumstances as you put it.” He chuckled at Elrohir’s sudden expression of impatience. “Ah, I believe we have outstayed our welcome, Imrahil. I am being asked quite unsubtly to leave for all that this also my room.”

Imrahil looked from one grinning brother to the other then glanced at Legolas who simply rolled his eyes in resignation. “But where will you stay then?” he inquired. And then, before Elladan could reply, his eyes widened and he said: “Surely not with the Dwarf!”

That elicited guffaws from all three Elves. “Unfortunately, I have no choice,” Elladan said in a suffering tone. “There are too many guests and not enough rooms to house them. I will simply have to make do. And demand recompense for my kindness at a later date.”

“Is my undying gratitude not enough, tôr iuar?”—older brother?— Elrohir said.

“Only if it can be turned to practical use, gwanneth”—younger twin— Elladan countered. “Come, my friend, let us leave them to their own devices. Trust me when I say you do not wish to be anywhere near enough to hear them!”

He laughed as a pillow collided with the closing door, courtesy of a red-faced Legolas. He laughed even louder when he espied Imrahil’s expression.

“Pay us no mind,” he said as he led the prince down the corridor. “It has always been thus between us. And it is hard to resist teasing Legolas as he is notoriously difficult to abash.”

Imrahil could not help a snicker. “I wish I could offer you refuge in my room as I did my tent but, unfortunately, I share it with Amrothos,” he said almost apologetically.

“Your youngest son.”

“Aye.”

Elladan frowned. “Well, do not worry about me,” he said somewhat grimly. “If Gimli’s snores get too loud for comfort, I can always gag him and stuff him in a closet.”

Imrahil stared at him, uncertain whether the Elf-lord was serious or not.

Elladan took pity on him and said: “Nay, we were only jesting. I have already arranged to stay with my father.”

Imrahil shook his head, thinking of the mirth the brethren had earlier provoked during the feast. “I confess, you are not at all like what I had expected of Elves,” he admitted.

“Half-elves,” Elladan amended. “Though to mortals’ eyes, there is no distinction between us and pure-blooded Edhil.”

“Does it disturb you that you are different?” Imrahil queried.

“Nay, why should it?” Elladan replied. “Except perhaps for the choice we had to make. ‘Twas the one matter that shadowed our lives for so long.”

Imrahil pondered this. “You only made your choice recently,” he guessed. “When your brother and Legolas bound to each other.”

Elladan regarded him with even more admiration. “You are perceptive beyond belief, Imrahil,” he remarked.

The man’s cheeks colored somewhat at the compliment. A charming sight, Elladan thought.

“But when?” Imrahil asked, his brow creasing in puzzlement. “I cannot recall any time after our victory in Mordor wherein they spent much time together much less exchanged any vows. Indeed, you left for Rohan so soon after that I wondered what was amiss.”

They came to a halt before the prince’s door. “They bound to each other the eve of our departure for Mordor,” Elladan quietly informed him.

“What?” Imrahil responded, startled.

“Even had the greatest evil befallen all of us, their joining assured them of the eternal oneness of their spirits,” Elladan explained.

Imrahil was duly impressed. “And your sister has chosen to forsake your kindred that she may be with Elessar evermore,” he murmured. “You Peredhil certainly know the meaning of love.”

“I wish that were so,” Elladan commented. “I cannot claim to know it yet.” He shrugged and smiled. “Some day mayhap. Goodnight, my prince.”

As he went past Imrahil, his hand brushed against the man’s thigh, dangerously close to his groin. The prince could not help gasping at the sensation it evoked. He stared after the Elvenlord as the other went on down the corridor to the room at its end. Just before he entered it, Elladan glanced back at the flustered man. And then he smirked in sheer, unadulterated mischief.

Imrahil hastily retreated into the safety of his own bedchamber.

**********

Glossary:

Edhil - Elves

To be continued...
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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate