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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
- 19
- 20
Chapter XX: Fate

The Blessed Realm, FA 121

Elves flocked to the shores of Eldamar as soon as word came from the lookouts on Tol Eressëa just before dusk. The arrival of the grey ship had been heralded days before by the Elven mariners who dared to sail as far into eastern waters as the Valar allowed them. Those who sought to welcome the latest arrivals from Middle-earth had come to Alqualondë in the days that followed.

Eager eyes watched the ship’s progress as it passed beneath the natural arch at the entrance to the harbor and neared the lamp-lit quay. It gracefully came to dock, its anchor was dropped and the gangplank lowered to the quay.

Many an Elf hastened down the board, eyes wide with wonder, before each was engulfed in the arms of waiting kith and kin. These were the last of the denizens of Lindon, Greenwood, East Lórien and Ithilien to take the Straight Road to the West. No longer would elven ships ply the seas from the Outer Lands to Valinor. Those who had chosen to remain behind would dwindle and fade and become a matter of lore and legend to the ascendant race of Men.

The sounds of laughter and weeping filled the twilight quiet as sundered couples or families were reunited at last.

A hush descended on the crowd when a golden-haired Elf of proud and noble bearing made his way down to the quay, two like-countenanced ellyn—male Elves—behind him. Three lovely females hurried to meet them. A moment later, the last Elvenking of Eryn Lasgalen held fast in his arms the beloved wife he had lost a thousand years ago while his daughters, whom he had sent ahead to Aman to get them out of harm’s way, clung to him and their brothers in happy tears.

The onlookers were soon distracted when a short and bearded figure gingerly traversed the plank and stepped onto the wharf. He bellowed in protest as he was summarily buried beneath three exuberant hobbits, each greeting him with delight and all at the same time. Gimli son of Glóin could scarcely separate one from the other and at last begged the elated Bagginses, Bilbo and Frodo, and a merry Samwise Gamgee to speak one at a time.

While Dwarf and hobbits chattered away as they walked towards a smiling Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían, an Elf-lady of surpassing beauty detached herself from the crowd, momentarily causing said Dwarf to gape at her in speechlessness. She spoke graciously in welcome to the thunderstruck Gimli before lifting her shining eyes to the tall, silver-crowned Elf who had just stepped off the ship.

Galadriel cast dignity to the wind and flew into her husband’s arms, lifting her mouth eagerly to his hungry lips. For nigh six score years she had been parted from Celeborn; it had seemed much longer for a couple that had seldom been parted in all their millennia of blissful marriage. They only reluctantly parted that she might lead him to their faithful Galadhrim who had awaited their lord’s homecoming with her all these years.

Last to descend from the ship was a lissome Elf of a comeliness and incandescence rarely seen even in the Blessed Realm. His silver-gold hair gleamed with unearthly light in the glow of the quay lamps; his skin was a wondrous alabaster, his features as delicate as dawn but limned with strength and purpose. Small wonder that many gazed upon him with sudden admiration and desire. But he cared not for any but the handsome argent-eyed Elf who approached him with a smile that snatched the very breath from his breast.

Legolas quickly closed the distance between them and flung his arms around Elrohir. Joyful tears slid down his pale cheeks as he was kissed and held and claimed anew by his incomparable Elf-knight. He slid his hands up to cup his darkling spouse’s face and scattered yearning kisses upon his fair countenance.

“Never again,” he declared fervently. “I will not be parted from you again, Elrohir. ‘Twas nearly more than I could bear, waiting all these years.”

Elrohir clutched him hard to him, crushing his mouth to his once more. “Never again, my Greenleaf,” he whispered in between the searing unions of their lips.

Legolas closed his eyes in rapture when Elrohir pressed kisses to his cheeks and jaw and throat, running his hands almost feverishly through the silk of his mate’s sable locks. A tap on their shoulders caused them to break their much-too ardent embrace and they grudgingly looked up into Elladan’s mirthful eyes.

“Really, gwanneth”—younger twin—“do you plan to couple right here on the quay?” he snickered. “Surely your bedchamber will be much more comfortable. Not to mention private!”

The reunited lovers glanced back, saw the surreptitiously watching spectators and laughed ruefully at having provided more than ample entertainment for the ribald of mind. After one more needful kiss, they untangled themselves and slipped their arms around each other’s waist instead. They followed Elladan up to where family and friends had gathered on the stone-paved promenade before the seaward gate of the city of the Teleri.

Legolas wordlessly slid into the embrace of the mother he had never truly known and held her close, she savoring this first blossoming of filial love however belated, he basking in the inimitable warmth of her maternal devotion. He only barely managed to endure his sisters’ ever-protective hugs. He was a seasoned warrior and a veteran of the Great War but he would always be their youngest brother, the babe of their family.

He returned to Elrohir’s arms and was steered to meet his Elf-knight’s kin in turn. Elrond and Celebrían welcomed him with much affection, as did Glorfindel and Erestor and other members of Elrond’s household. He turned to greet the last Elf in the group by whose side Elladan stood.

Legolas gasped in disbelief. “Imrahil!” he exclaimed.

He and the Belfalas prince embraced heartily, Imrahil chuckling at Legolas’ patent delight. The Wood-elf drew back and stared at his friend in wonder.

Outwardly, Imrahil had not changed. He was still the most comely male the race of Men had produced since the First Age. And he still bore the marks of his human ancestry – the broad shoulders, the sun-kissed skin, the less distinct tips of his ears. But the light in the depths of the grey tinged aquamarine eyes was undimmed and would be forever so. He was no more a man than Gimli was an Elf.

Clad in the raiment of the Eldar, his hair pulled back and plaited in the manner of Elrond’s sons, he appeared as he had been fated to be. A true Peredhel.

“Thank Eru your children’s tale was true!” Legolas remarked with heartfelt relief.

Imrahil smiled. “Did they reveal the truth to any other?” he asked.

“Only to Faramir. But when they came to realize our kinship by marriage they chose to confide in me as well.”

“When did they tell you?”

“As soon as the news of your death reached Minas Tirith, I journeyed at once to Dol Amroth to express my condolences to your family.” Legolas eyed the prince with some amazement. “I truly thought the news true – that you had been lost at sea while on a leisurely cruise along the coast with your children. I grieved not only for you but for Elladan as well.” He glanced at his grinning law-brother. “A waste of good tears I must say!” he added with a snort. “It was then that Elphir and Faramir took me aside and revealed to me what had truly passed.”

“Did you not believe them?” Elladan prodded.

Legolas laughed. “I wanted to!” he rejoined. “But as Imrahil never sent word to you of his intentions – I confess I was not certain what to make of their story.”

Imrahil held up his hands in supplication. “I have been repeatedly reminded during the last several decades of the importance of keeping in touch!” he exclaimed. “Please, I cannot take yet another reproach on the matter.”

The twins chortled at his discomfiture.

“And how does Eldarion fare?” Elladan thought to ask, mirth fading to be replaced by melancholy.

Elrohir, too, subsided as the realization of their foster brother now laid to rest cast a somber pall over them.

“He was more than ready to take up the rule of Gondor,” Legolas quietly said. “Aragorn was at peace when he passed away.” He glanced at the twins’ parents who were at the moment engaged in conversation with Celeborn, Galadriel and Thranduil. His eyes turn sad. “I cannot say the same for Arwen,” he added, lowering his voice. “She departed for Lórien after Eldarion’s coronation and I received no further news of her ere I sailed from Ithilien. But I doubt she will linger past this winter. Her grief is too great.”

The brethren stared at him in shared sorrow. They instinctively clasped hands in mutual solace, unable to speak for a while.

“Does Grandfather know?” Elladan finally asked, looking at Celeborn.

Legolas shook his head. “Nay, Arwen asked me never to speak of this to any save you,” he said. “I was the only Elf present when she left Minas Tirith and only I of our folk bade her farewell.” He sighed. “Lord Celeborn and my father joined me in Ithilien just before we set sail and all I told them was that she passed away soon after Aragorn. I did not say she was long gone from the city. Did I do ill in keeping this secret?” he added anxiously.

“Do not fault yourself, gwanur”—kinsman—Elladan reassured him. “‘Twas Arwen’s wish and you abided by it.

“And she was right to keep Adar and Naneth from knowing the manner of her passing,” Elrohir murmured. “It would only break their hearts.”

After a pensive moment, Imrahil cleared his throat.

“And Dol Amroth?” he softly asked. “Did Elphir prove a worthy prince?”

“Aye, Imrahil,” Legolas said. “Your people grieved his passing as much as they grieved yours.” He hesitated, seeing the spasm of grief that shook Imrahil’s tall frame. “Alphros’ son now rules in Belfalas.”

Imrahil shuddered at the implicit news of his children and most of his grandchildren’s departure from the world. His eyes turned to the east, to where the Hither Lands lay. They glistened tellingly. He bit his lip, trying to still their sudden trembling.

He felt Elladan’s hand slip into his and turned to look at his spouse. The older twin’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, too, as he shared his mate’s sorrow.

“Do you regret your choice?” Elladan asked quietly.

Imrahil drew a deep breath. He shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss to Elladan’s lips.

“You are my choice, meleth”—love—he said. “I could never regret you.”

Elladan drew him into a hardy embrace and a fierce and lengthy kiss. This time, it was Elrohir who snickered through his incipient tears and chided him.

“You had best heed your own counsel, tôr iuar”—older brother—“and seek your bedchamber,” he gibed. “Unless you have it in mind to provide more fodder for gossip than you have already done these past eighty five years?”

Legolas glanced at him, sadness forgotten for the moment. “Fodder for gossip?” he echoed. “Why? Whatever have they done to merit such attention?”

“What you and Elrohir will likely do now that you are together once more,” Elladan retorted with a knowing grin. He looked at his twin. “Let us see who will provide more fodder hence, brother mine. You and Legolas were not known for discretion either in all your time together in Middle-earth.”

Elrohir’s eyes narrowed. “Are you warning us to be more discreet?” he inquired. “Or challenging us to best you?”

Imrahil groaned and shook his head. “If there is one thing I rue about being a member of the family, ‘tis this remarkable indifference to public opinion that you all seem to possess!” he said with a hint of exasperation. He cast a fleeting but jaundiced glance at Elrond. “Even your father cares little about restraint in matters of love-play. Never have I blushed as giddily as an adolescent in all my life as I have in your dubious company!”

Legolas laughed and patted his beleaguered binding-brother’s shoulder comfortingly. “You will get used to it, gwanur,” he said. “In another hundred years or so.”

He laughed harder as Imrahil groaned again. At length, he slipped his arm around Elrohir’s waist and bent to lightly bite his neck.

“I would have you welcome me properly, melethron”—lover—he murmured. “Shall we retire to our bedchamber as Elladan suggested?”

Elrohir hastily suppressed the impulse to pounce on Legolas and there and then give truth to Elladan’s words ere his golden prince had even settled in.

“Not only our chamber but our own home,” he told Legolas. “‘Tis but a few paces away from Elladan and Imrahil’s abode. I have kept it in readiness all these years.” His eyes darkened considerably as he led his eager woodland spouse away.

Elladan grinned as he watched them leave, arm in arm. He turned to regard Imrahil and waited a moment while his mate looked one last time to the east.

“Imrahil?”

The once-prince of Dol Amroth gazed a while longer at the sea beyond before turning back to him. Then Imrahil smiled, his eyes alight with the joy and contentment of one who knows he is cherished beyond compare. He slipped into Elladan’s waiting arms.

“Let us go home, seron vell”—beloved—Imrahil said.

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

Glossary:

Edhil – Elves

Adar – Father

Naneth - Mother

The End
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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate