Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Beautiful Dreamer	By : narcolinde Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4292 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, its characters, or its plot and settings. No money is earned from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Beautiful Dreamer
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Chapter 5
- 6-Six
- 7-Part Seven
- 8-Epilogue
- 1
- 2
- 3
Part Two: Diagnosis, Prognosis, and Treatment

Silence reigned; a silence so total and encompassing that Elrond was sure he could hear the minimal rustle of silk cloth billowing as the fabric of his pants shifted to make way for his expanding penis.

The room was alive with sexual energy, potent and intoxicating, a bright web of dazzling after-images in which the elven Lord and his over-wrought patient were enmeshed; the staid and formal office transformed into a den of iniquitous delights peopled with phantoms that were as vital and real as if they were standing there naked waiting for the healer's verdict, eager to snatch away their vibrant virgin lover, willing to add another actor to their troupe.

Elrond was nearly at the point where he could give them faces and identities, inviting them into his own fantasies along with their fair captive. It would be so easy to take the scene in a new direction, choosing a different method of bondage, another form of torment, more daring positions for the golden warrior, and naturally the Lord of Imladris would be the dominant male and direct the course of their orgy.

Across the expanse of the desk, Legolas blinked, a simple flicker of skin and lashes that momentarily obscured the archer's eyes, breaking the spell and releasing Elrond from the exhilarating prison of the erotic dream-scape. The great healer almost startled but held his disappointment in check, aware of a sense of dismissal, as though the dream-dwellers thought he'd seen quite enough, thank you, unless he was willing to join them.

Oh, he was willing.

Elrond inhaled slowly, focusing on Legolas, the ellon watching him in anxious expectation, waiting for words that would either confirm his worst fears or allow him to accept this bizarre curse as a natural phase of development. He must answer lest the prince realise what was going through his mind.

"Normal?" the mighty healer shrugged, "of course it is normal." He smiled with benevolent indulgence manufactured specifically to imply that he was neither surprised, intrigued, nor shocked and that only because he was so very young did Legolas even need this reassurance, as though every mature male elf in Arda had experienced dreams like this when they were Legolas' age. This unvoiced communication did its work and he saw the rigid frame relax. "Perfectly normal. People of all kinds, elves, men, even dwarves, engage in all manner of sexual imaginings."

"Thank Elbereth!" Legolas exhaled the words and dropped his head to rest on the chair's high, straight back, exposing his long white throat as he closed his eyes in obvious relief, arms falling limp as he let go of the chair, legs splaying wide as he uncrossed them. The evidence of his unflagging erection bulged against his left thigh and Elrond thought he had never witnessed such a blatant and wholly unconscious invitation to be ravished in all his days.
The Lord of Imladris was supremely glad he was over six thousand years old and had learned long ago to master the art of pheromone suppression so that even as he sat behind his desk with the most painfully rigid erection he could recall experiencing, ever, his body did not give off any tell-tale traces of subconscious scent that might alarm the young warrior who had just divulged this lurid craving for bondage, mild torture, and multiple sexual partners. He savoured the enticing view before him, a more perfect representation of the helpless victim than he had ever seen, and offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Estë for sending this incredibly desirable and troubled ellon to him. Legolas wanted to be used and abused and the legendary healer was ready to oblige.

Yet he mastered the temptation to accept that unspoken invitation and let the moment pass in its own time, reassembling the benign smile when Legolas put himself back in order and sat straight.

"I believed I had become unhinged." Legolas returned the smile, his distress lessened so that now embarrassment came to the fore. "You must think me depraved and perverse."

"Nay, not so," Elrond admonished, but could not deny he had been thinking exactly that. "Your character and natural personality have not altered just because you experience these dreams."

"So everyone goes through something like this?" asked Legolas. "I wish someone had explained it to me sooner."

"It is not so easy to do, though, for while sexual fantasies are a universal experience, they are as individual as each person, varying widely not only between different cultures but even between family members. Thus they remain private, a domain that can only be shared with a select few, and are rarely discussed openly for reasons you can surely appreciate."

Elrond appreciated it, relishing the throbbing tightness in his cock, anticipating the moment of fulfilment that would relieve the pressure. Yet, Legolas was his patient and he would never use his authority and renown as a learned healer to manipulate a patient into a wild, passionate coupling here and now on the smooth leather surface of his desk. He could certainly command it; Legolas would do anything he told him to do, anything to end the agony his hormones inflicted on his untried body and his unschooled mind.

"True; I had to travel thousands of leagues to find someone to tell," Legolas was saying. "You have eased my fears considerably, but what do I do about it, Hîren?"

Here was a loaded question and Elrond had to re-align his rear in the seat as his aching organ gave a spontaneous leap forward. "There are many choices. You can give in to them or fight them, as you please. I would not recommend giving in just yet; it is not a gentle fantasy," he advised carefully.

Legolas, he knew, had already offered himself to Erestor, an ellon who more readily inspired others to terror than desire. Given the theme of danger in the dream that was not surprising, but there was something about all this that just didn't fit, a sense that the scenes were not creations of Legolas' pent and frustrated needs but visions inflicted upon him from a more mature and seasoned mind. His was not the romantic imagining of a neophyte. There was more going on than simple lust and Elrond did not want to make an error that would scar the youth, ruining his ability to enjoy a healthy sex life. The azure depths stared into his, the soul behind them desperate for reassurance and Elrond responded.

"As I said earlier, such erotic visions can be used to enhance sexual intimacy and as long as all parties are in agreement and appropriate precautions are taken, then there is no harm done and much pleasure results, even as it does in your dream." He paused, trying to find the right way to broach the dark elements underlying the prince's vision. "Yours is, however, quite a mature fantasy, especially for an ellon with no experience in such matters."

"So it is unusual," Legolas said unhappily, not surprised Elrond knew he was a virgin; he would expect a healer so famous to possess that kind of insight. In fact, he believed everyone knew it and in his forest world he was not wrong, for the evidence of his latent sexual potential was both visible and olfactory. He was plagued by a nearly perpetual erection and surrounded by a cloud of pheromones that travelled wherever he went, a silent but undeniable seduction wafting through the air infecting all in his vicinity with arousal.

"Yes," Elrond answered directly. "There must be a reason such a detailed scene has become fixed in your mind." Perverse pleasures were not unknown among elves, but they were not very common and a fantasy such as Legolas had just described generally only developed in response to some kind of sexual trauma. He chose his next words carefully. "The images have more a quality of memory than make-believe. Its roots may be tied to a real event, something you saw when you were very young, too young to understand the nature of desire and thus became frightened."

"What?" Legolas was wide-eyed and horrified. "Are you saying I watched this happening to someone else when I was a child?" He stood and paced to the window, glaring at the soothing landscape beyond the glass. "Impossible!"

"Nay, it is not only possible but your strong reaction makes me even more convinced," Elrond replied, rising and joining him. He set his hands on the prince's shoulders and turned him round. Legolas was again lost and bewildered and fearful, conditions he could not abide as a mature and respected warrior, the son of his nation's Lord and King, and this turmoil was plain in the eyes that lifted to meet the healer's gaze.

"Lord Elrond, surely I would not forget something like that," objected Legolas. "I don't have any such recollections from my childhood. Everything was normal during my growing years."

"There's that unfortunate word again," smiled Elrond and massaged the shoulders as he steered Legolas back to the desk and sat him down. "It is not uncommon for a child to suppress a frightening event. It is also the case that children, if they inadvertently witness it, often mistake sexual intercourse for violence, thinking their parents are hurting one another. If you saw a scene of bondage enacted by your father and mother, it would be deeply troubling and you would not have been able to process it, shutting the images away from your mind. Now that your sexual awakening has begun, the scene is re-emerging in a new guise."

"My parents would never do anything like that!" exclaimed Legolas, a look of pure disgust twisting his comely features.

Elrond laughed a little as he resumed his seat. "So all children think, no matter how old the passing years make us. It is never easy to associate sexual intimacy with people so vital to us and so removed from our individual carnal impulses."

"Aye, but to do that which I imagine?" Legolas shuddered and shut his eyes tight. "It cannot be."

"Something has triggered this overt response," Elrond pointed right at the crux of the prince's legs and Legolas hastily closed them, tugging down his tunic. "Whatever it is, this deeply buried memory must be uncovered and stripped of its power to frighten and confuse." Once that was accomplished, then he would gladly strip the comely warrior of his garments, his inhibitions, and his innocence. He smiled at the distraught archer.

"How can it be done? I have no recollection of such a thing," Legolas repeated his protest. "Nor, truth be said, do I want to remember it if it is as you say. I do not want to see my parents play out this scene." Again he shivered and even wrapped his arms about his chest, going decidedly pale.

"Do not fear, there are means to help you both remember it and banish it, all without making you consciously aware of doing so," said Elrond. "I have performed this type of cure before, though it is usually required from those who suffered the trauma of war and the bloodletting that accompanies it. Some of the elves living in Imladris were children during the kin-slaying at Sirion, and I helped them cope with those horrific memories. Indeed, it is because a great healer did the same for me that I became inspired to master the art myself. Thus, I express my gratitude by sharing the gift given to me, a gift of peace and tranquillity."

"Aye, that is verily what I need. I knew you could help me, Lord Elrond." Legolas did not add that he had imagined a rather different sort of cure.

His father had as much as told him that all he really needed was a lover and then relieved his son of active duty until he got himself one. The prince, fearful of reprisals should he reveal his bizarre cravings to anyone at home, had come away to decadent and dissolute Imladris, home of the immoral, licentious Noldor. No sooner had he set eyes on their august Lord than Legolas began imagining Elrond quenching the ardent fire in his loins by bedding him. Unbidden the idea arose: if he disrobed and offered himself here and now, would the legendary ellon take him? Legolas found his respiration suddenly increasing and flushed as he saw recognition flicker through Elrond's grey eyes. He turned his gaze to the interior of the room and inspected a finely embroidered tapestry without once acknowledging what the picture represented.

Elrond's heart leaped and his brows rose minutely; Legolas wanted him, not from the warped perspective of the overpowering dream, but here and now as they sat in his office. Legolas, virile virgin prince, wanted Elrond, icon of wisdom and strength, to be his first. He would fulfil that desire gladly and permitted a small hint of his aroused state to permeate the air, watching as Legolas' nostrils flared when he caught the scent and caught his breath. The archer's bottom shifted about in his chair and he cautiously returned shy and guarded eyes to the healer's.

"All things in their proper time and order," murmured Elrond calmly, for himself as much as Legolas, and watched in exultation as a bright spark of excited anticipation kindled in the cool blue depths. "When this memory is exposed and dealt with, then you will be free to explore your desires in any way you may wish."

He paused and rose from the desk, hands clasped behind him as he wandered out into the room.

"The key ingredient in sharing such cravings, of course, is trust. While the excitement of being helpless as others spend their pleasure in you, the sense of being powerless to effect your own release, denied orgasm until permitted by those who have mastered you, all this is highly stimulating, yet these sensations balance on a keen edge where torture and titillation mingle. It would not really be enjoyable to be drugged, bound, and raped by three males."

Legolas' sharp intake of breath was not surprising, but he did not respond to it, waiting to see what the prince might say. There was only silence.

Elrond's casual stroll had carried him to the door which he quietly bolted. He removed his heavy outer robe and hung it on a hook beside the portal, then sauntered to the sideboard again. There he poured two goblets of wine and finally returned to the desk where he perched along its edge, propping one leg up so that his crotch was facing his patient, the soft black silk of the trousers draped over his engorged penis. His pants being less restraining than the Wood Elf's skin-tight leggings, the degree to which he was excited was not a mystery. Legolas' eyes were fixed there and only when the glass was thrust under his very nose was he able to look up into Elrond's face.

"Do you trust me, Legolas?" the lore-master asked quietly.

Legolas raised his glass with a hand that trembled and took a swift swallow, eyes glued to Elrond's the while.

"Aye, Hîren," whispered the Wood Elf, "I trust you."

"That is good," smiled Elrond. He sipped from his goblet and watched Legolas struggle to keep his sight fixed on his face. "I want you to understand that I will permit no harm to befall you and will guard your trust as I would a precious treasure."

He stood and extended his hand, grave and serious. With but a second's hesitation, the archer settled his long deadly digits atop it and Elrond pulled him upright. Now they walked hand in hand from the desk, the Lord of Imladris leading the prince of Greenwood to a nook beside the hearth where a set of luxurious leather upholstered arm chairs faced one another across a tiny round table. He handed Legolas into one and settled in its twin. Now they sat, the little circle of wood between them, and surveyed one another, slowly consuming the amber wine.

At last the suspense was too much and Legolas spoke. "What is going to happen, Hîren?"

"I am going to uncover the source of your fantastic phantasm," announced Elrond. "To do this, you and I must be joined."

Legolas inhaled sharply and his mouth fell open as he sat back, spine rigid in surprise to hear the idea voiced so coolly, cock rigid in anticipation for what it meant. "Joined?" he managed. "As in…" and he stopped, unable to actually say 'as in your cock rammed up my ass' and found other words more socially acceptable. "We…we would become lovers?"

"Perhaps, that remains to be decided later," grinned Elrond, pleased with the responses his suggestive phrasing elicited. "What I mean is that I must suspend your spirit in somnolence and walk with you through the dream-scape of this staged rape. Within your mind, I will be free to dismantle the set and the scenery, revealing the deeds for what they are."

"Ai Valar," gulped Legolas, white and nervous. "You are saying you believe I witnessed such an atrocity in truth." His whole body shook in revulsion but his arousal did not abate. "How could I turn something so horrible into a lurid scene of excitement and desire?"

"Nay, I do not mean that," corrected Elrond, but the prince's assumption was telling. "Just the opposite. I think you saw others playing at bondage and torment and thought it was real. Where all are adults and consent has been given, there is no trauma involved, or at least none that is not desired. I believe you witnessed sex of a variety more violent and painful than is generally discussed, either by our parents during explanations of the process of reproduction or by scrolls readily at hand in libraries. Having no internal resources through which to assess the scene, your mind assumed it was an act of pure violence while your body responded to the high sexual excitement. Can you see how confusing all this would be to a very young elf?"

"Indeed, for it is entirely incomprehensible to me now," averred Legolas, still uneasy. "How will you walk within my dreams and what is meant by suspending my spirit?"

"Here is where your trust is so vital," Elrond said. "I will have to employ a powerful source of enchantment. Not a drug, but a form of energy that will bring down the barriers guarding your inner essence and permit mine to enter in. Our minds and hearts will be separate yet united. What you experience I will see.

"I must caution you, this will be stressful and we will come through this with a deeper understanding of one another than many lovers share. There will be a bond betwixt us, of a sort, that will likely endure the Ages. So it is with others I have helped with this procedure, and given the sexual nature of the dream ours will likely become that of lovers, at least for a time."

"Tawar min beria," the Wood Elf mumbled and gulped the remainder of his wine. This was not how he'd envisioned his first time would be, adrift in some kind of trance with an ancient elven Lord roaming about in his head, poking into all his secrets and sharing all his memories. "Will I know you are there? Can I stop it if I don't like it?"

"No, you will not be able to banish my presence but I will not be visible to you. My voice alone may intrude, for this is necessary to guide you toward understanding what you relive. I propose nothing less than peeling back the intervening years between that pivotal event and today, observing as you re-experience the moment when the memory was distorted and recorded and then repressed."

"It sounds like you're saying, in as nice a way as possible, that you will be controlling my mind and that I will be helpless to stop you from exploring every inch of my heart and soul," Legolas said, but he shivered as he spoke and the frisson was not a product of fear.

Elrond noticed and his pulse gave a mighty surge. This was going to be a challenge for him in more ways than one. "That is partially true, and again I give my solemn word that I will respect that trust and guard your privacy as my own. Yet neither will I be privy to everything within your heart. We will explore this one issue and no other, unless you wish more. I will see what you see and those thoughts and feelings most strongly linked to the sights will come through to me, but I am not going to inhabit you body, Legolas, or seize dominion over your mind."

"I thank you, yet give as well the means for my soul to traipse unhindered through your psyche and then mayhap I will be less repulsed by the idea," Legolas bartered with the lore-master, but even to his own ears his demand did not sound very firm. Still, pride insisted he state this condition before he would capitulate. He was a warrior, the son of a mighty King among elves; he could not just surrender to another elf without at least demanding terms.

"Gladly," Elrond understood what was going through his patient's thoughts but would never injure Legolas' ego by pointing out that he wanted nothing less than to be subdued, overpowered, and utterly subjugated to another's will. He doubted, when given the chance to go exploring in Elrond's memories, whether he would be willing to take so much as a peek.

Yet, exciting as the prospect of delving Legolas' fantasy life was, it was much to ask of him. It had taken Legolas two weeks to find the courage to admit his problem; obviously, sexual aberrations were not acceptable in Greenwood else he would have dealt with the problem there. Plus, the memory would likely be intense and the scene highly upsetting. There was a technique Elrond employed with those reliving horrific and gory battles and he had not thought to use it here, but on consideration decided it was a good idea.

"I do not want you to feel trapped inside your mind, a prisoner within your own history; such would be damaging. Let us devise a means for you to communicate your desire to leave the memory and awaken. Choose an animal, Legolas, that is easy for you to call to mind and with which you feel a sense of kinship or identity. If the procedure becomes too difficult to endure, bring this animal into the scene. As soon as I see it, I will exit your mind and awaken you at once."

"An animal?" Legolas' brows rose. It was all very strange but he could not deny it was intriguing and he wanted to take this mental journey with Elrond. "Very well, I choose a swallow, one with yellow bars upon her wings."

"An excellent choice," Elrond smiled. "Shall we begin?"

"Now?" Legolas squawked, stiffening in his chair as his eyes moved from Elrond's compelling stare to the lore-master's right hand where, poised and hidden, reposed the Ring of Air, then on to the black silk pants and their tell-tale tent. He tore his gaze away and looked again into the calm and commanding visage.

"Yes, now would be best," insisted Elrond, rising and taking the glass from Legolas' hand.

He carried it with his to the sideboard and left both there, moving to another section of the room where there was a wall lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. On one of the shelves was a small soapstone box and he brought this back with him, setting it on the table between them. The lid lifted off to reveal a set of long, clear crystals of varying lengths which he withdrew. The ends were smoothed flat and he set them upright, arranged in a small circle. Reaching into the box again, he brought forth another gem, this one a squat six-sided pyramid the colour of midnight, and placed it in the center of the circle. That accomplished, he reached a last time into the box and lifted from it a thin and delicate wand of stretched and twisted glass, vivid streamers of colour running through it like ribbons, all joining in a small bulbous end. Elrond closed and put aside the box on the floor beneath the table, raising his stormy grey eyes to the archer's vivid blue ones.

"What do I do?" asked Legolas nervously and licked his lips.

"Watch the crystals," said Elrond and lifting the wand struck the squat black gem in the center lightly on its pinnacle.

A deep, clear note rang out and the rest of the crystals responded, emitting a softer, brighter chord which ended in a beautiful flowering of pale blue light which blossomed up and wafted into the air before dissipating. Legolas had never seen anything like this and raised astonished eyes to Elrond.

"Watch the crystals, Legolas," admonished the healer and was pleased when he was obeyed without objections.

Now Elrond began tapping the taller crystals in sequence, the pattern unrecognisable to Legolas, the ringing notes arising from the contact forming a music strange and compelling but not unpleasant to hear. Within the sound he could hear Elrond murmuring some kind of spell but he could not make out the words for they were in Quenya and spoken in tones low and deep which complimented the crystals' song. He watched the swirled glass wand moving from jewel to jewel, trying to learn the pattern, but it kept changing while the music thus created conversely built seamlessly into a theme of mesmerising enchantment.

Suddenly Elrond struck the large black pyramid again and its strong, bold note rang out, inspiring the crystals ringing it to erupt another burst of blue light, save this time the gleam did not billow up and out but remained, strands of the clear, cerulean beams linking the tall clear shards to the obsidian gem like spokes to the hub of a wheel. The lore-master continued playing the blades of stone, incorporating the occluded central gem regularly, and the thin bands of light began to pulse and expand, the wheel rising, the spokes seeking, and the spectral illumination touched first Legolas, who was bending near, and then Elrond, absorbing them within the growing cloud of luminescent music.

New colours appeared, shades of lavender and magenta shot through with rich gold, and innately Legolas knew these additions came from his own aura and from Elrond's. The music changed, too, and slowly he felt a sense of recognition within it and it was comfortable, inviting, and he sought to sink deeper into it so to bring full realisation of its beauty to his soul. Then he heard a mild exclamation of wonder and surprise from the elven Lord as his voice drifted through the light.

"Ai, Legolas, this is your music and it is both beautiful and complex. Share with me, young one; guide me to the time of the dream."

Now the wheel of light-song had grown to encompass the space around them yet the room was not as it had been. Legolas beheld a hazy corridor lined with tall white columns around which twined the vivid green stems of Morning Glories, the blue trumpets nodding as if touched by a gentle breeze, bright patches of brilliant sun paving the ground beneath. He rose and set his foot upon that path and Imladris vanished. He was home. A burst of joy filled Legolas' heart and got loose from him in a loud whoop as he broke into a run and raced between the columns, bow in hand, calling for his mother.

Elrond ran alongside, unseen and unfelt, and marvelled at the elegance of the place, wondering at the grand house that came ever closer as Legolas ran. They veered away from the main entrance and skirted fair gardens where fountains played, weaving through a great maze with ease and popping out the other side into the service area of the estate. A large cook house was obviously Legolas' goal but he was waylaid before he reached it.

A tall, dark-haired elf reached for and caught the archer's arm, dragging him to a halt, and a stern and disapproving face glared down upon him.

"Just where have you come from, Thôn Thent (Short Pine)?" he bellowed. "Off playing orcs and warriors, no doubt." He peered down at the small elf, hands on hips, but his menace was all manufactured and there was a kindly gleam in his deep green eyes.

"Nay, Adar Edwen (Second Father), I am too old for such silly games now. I have just come from my first day of training, as well you know. I want to tell Nana about it. I struck the target on the first draw and received praises for…"

"Oh! Praises and boasting now? I do not believe you. Prove it; take aim and fire an arrow into that sack Pentrandir (Wandering Tale) is carrying on his back," the tall ellon pointed and Elrond followed Legolas' eyes to the sturdy servant trudging along on the far side of the grounds, bearing a bag of flour.

"Nay!" gasped Legolas, aghast. "It would not be safe! The first rule of the bow is never to arm it unless I am either in battle or on the training grounds. I would be expelled from the class if I obey you!" His high, fair voice was fraught with worried dread but this anxiety was quickly banished as the ellon laughed aloud and then praised him highly.

"Well said, Legolas, you pass the test. I would not permit you to continue the training had you obeyed my order and placed everyone in the yard at risk. Well done!" he exclaimed a second time and reached his hand to lay it on the narrow shoulder, squeezing tight, affectionate humour in his smiling face. "Go to your naneth now and tell her all, but do not impede her work for there is a great ball tonight."

"My thanks, Adar Edwen, I will stay out of the way," and Legolas was off again, walking now to the cook house, greeting various elves passing through the busy estate's grounds.

The elleth was waiting for him and suddenly her beaming face peered around the opening of the door, eyes alight with both happiness and sorrow. It was so obvious that she wanted to run out and envelope her child in her arms but she restrained her maternal heart and waited patiently for her son, no longer a henellon to be coddled and kissed but a novice warrior. Her days with him would grow ever shorter and the gaze she trained upon him was busy memorising every nuance of his slight and willowy frame. She had sent away this morn her babe and now returned to her a little soldier, her son's swagger imitating that of warriors ages old.

"So, you are back. Is there cause to be pleased that I consented to this course?" she demanded, trying hard to make her expression serious and solemn. Even Legolas could not manage to hold the illusion and burst into delighted laughter as he threw himself into her ready arms.

"Aye, Nana, all is well. Gil-orthad (Rising Star) says I will be a fine archer and am certain to earn a commission when I come of age." He searched her eyes and found the loving pride he hoped to see and hugged her again before letting go. "I am hungry; is there food ready?"

"Indeed, Brannon Dithen (Little Lord)," said the merry elleth with an exaggerated curtsy. "Right this way; your platter awaits filled with all those delicacies you most love." She led him inside and Elrond followed.

He watched with a happy heart; the staff in the kitchen were unified in their affection for Legolas and all eager to offer him congratulations and listen in rapt attention as he described his first day of real training. Each offered him some special dish prepared just for him to honour the occasion and bowed, calling him Brannon Neth in playful deference. Elrond was charmed by the scene and gazed long at Legolas' mother for he had never seen her before. It was clear enough Legolas favoured her, sharing the golden hair, the slight, elegant bone structure, and the vibrant blue eyes. Their laughter mingled, the timbre and tone almost identical for Legolas was not yet at that stage of adolescence when the voice deepened.

He was not surprised by Legolas' scarcity of years, having expected the source of the troubling dream would be found in childhood, and enjoyed seeing the archer in this stage of development: graceful and beautiful and innocent with the promise of his mature form just starting to show. It gave his heart a sweet but wrenching ache.

The meal ended and Legolas stood, tendering his mother another hug before moving to the door. There he paused and looked back at her for long minutes and sadness inundated his heart. He lifted his arm, holding the bow aloft as would any warrior giving salute. "Namarië," he said quietly and his mother raised her hand as well.

Tears welled up and flowed down her face. "Namarië, Nín Tuilinn Dithen (My Little Swallow)," she choked out and then Legolas turned and passed through the door, parting from her and from the life he had known and loved.

At once an expanse of dark and swirling night surrounded them, an impenetrable cloud lacking the normal physical determinations of earth and sky, a void filled with nothing but horrfic gloom and unbearable grief. A sense of motion and movement made the strange, thick air roll and quake as they passed through it, for they were still walking. Abruptly the dense black fog cleared and a new setting appeared, a broad meadow awash in the reduced colours and shortened depth of the gloaming, the Evening Star serving as bright escort to Ithil's slender silver crescent.

Elrond's mind reeled in stunned amazement. They had just crossed a threshold spanning several years and he understood through Legolas' sorrow that he had returned to the cook house only to see his mother once more, for she was lost to him soon after.

Questions abounded: why was Legolas' mother working among the servants? Who was the ellon he addressed as a second father? Elrond wanted to delve for answers but he could not disrupt his guide's concentration. The lore-master had never had a patient capable of directing the course of such a journey so easily and he could not account for it. Little time was there for such and he scanned the new view of Legolas striding across what he now realised was not a meadow but the training grounds of the same estate. He was on his way to retrieve his arrows from the target.

Here was a more familiar figure, the lanky shanks bearing him forward in a casual but measured gait, hair swaying in a gleaming, golden swath bound in warrior braids, garb clearly a uniform of some kind dyed in smoky blue and grey colours, just like the wings of an evening swift. His face was grim and set, a scowl marring his features and anger swirling through flashing blue eyes. Legolas was alone in the evening twilight, firing at targets to release his rage, a practise that would become a signature trait of the quiet archer.

The anger worried Elrond and he carefully sifted the seething fury to winnow out the cause. He was shocked anew: with just two years remaining before his Coming of Age, Legolas had been denied entry into the senior ranks of the archery class, relegated to begin training with less elegant weapons. It was evident he considered this beneath him and was humiliated by the reduction in status. His whole identity was bound up in being an archer and it was clear he blamed the demotion on his brother.

By this point he had retrieved all the arrows and shot them back into the target again, stalking out to gather them once more. The traditional means of expelling his anger was not working and he made the decision to confront his brother and exact revenge for ruining his life.

Elrond, suddenly alarmed, realised he was not in control of the situation at all. His efforts to break through the barrier of virulent rage were ignored. He could do nothing but follow as Legolas paced through the silent and empty grounds, wishing he had chosen an animal totem for himself with which to end the enchantment. The Lord of Imladris gazed into the high and starry sky; there were no swallows.

TBC

Thank you so much fro the reviews Tourette and Rozzan :) here is more.
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Beautiful Dreamer

Part Two: Diagnosis, Prognosis, and Treatment