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Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3363 -:- 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
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Chapter II: Unresolved Issues

The patrol returned little more than a week later. The twin lords joined Thranduil and his older sons. Melthoron and Brethildor, at the doors of his halls, Elrohir concerned for Legolas’ well-being, Elladan itching to give the archer a piece of his mind. But all such considerations were cast aside when they saw what the Elven rangers had brought back with them.

“What in Arda—?” Brethildor gasped as he and the others beheld the human remains laid out on the frozen ground.

There were three corpses, all male. And all in attitudes of torment, glassy eyes staring in abject fright, mouths yawning open in silent screams, rigid fingers clawing or clutching at the Valar only knew what. But there was not a mark on them to indicate what had killed them save for a strange desiccated look to their flesh that made it seem like grey parchment. Yet they could not have been dead for very long for the elements to have such an effect on their bodies. Their clothes were whole and, while travel-stained, relatively new. And no beast had had the time or opportunity to despoil the bodies.

The twins knelt by the corpses and swiftly, with the supple fingers of seasoned healers, examined the bodies, fair faces creased with baffled frowns. At length, Elladan looked up and shook his head.

“We will need to make a more thorough examination of their bodies but thus far there is nothing here to tell us what slew them,” he said. “There are no apparent wounds or blows that might have proven fatal to them.”

“But their flesh is curiously bereft of moisture,” Elrohir remarked. “This should not be if they have only died recently.” He hesitated then placed his hand over one man’s eyes.

“Gwanneth...”—younger twin—Elladan said warningly.

“I will not attempt to probe too deeply,” Elrohir assured him. At his twin’s reluctant nod, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath then went utterly still.

“What is he doing?” Brethildor asked curiously.

“It is sometimes possible to glean something of the last thoughts of the dead if one has the gift and if death was fairly recent,” Elladan soberly explained. “Our grandmother and father had the skill and Elrohir inherited some of it.”

“Why did you caution him?” Thranduil inquired, somewhat awed that his younger law-son should possess such a talent. “Is it dangerous?”

“It can be draining,” Elladan admitted. “Particularly if one attempts to delve too long or deeply.” He turned his attention back to his brother, noting after several moments the increasingly pale cast of his skin. He sharply called him back. “Elrohir!”

The Elf-knight let out a gasp then sagged wearily against Elladan when the latter caught him in his arms. “Are you all right?” the older twin inquired worriedly.

After a few balming breaths, Elrohir nodded. He glanced at the others.

“There was not much to see,” he conceded. “The thoughts of men fade more swiftly than those of Elves. But there is some devilry at work here. This one’s last vision was of a – a woman.”

“A woman?” Thranduil repeated in puzzlement.

“Aye. It was vague. I could not make out many details. But she provoked much horror in him. He was trying to get away. At least, that is the impression I received.”

“Why would a mere woman terrify him so?” Melthoron mused. “It sounds most improbable.”

“Nevertheless, she did,” Elrohir said. “His last thoughts were of pure terror and – and pain. Great pain.”

“Yet you say there are no obvious marks of violence on any of the bodies,” Legolas commented. “Nor was there evidence of a struggle where we found them. ‘Tis as if they did not expect an assault.”

“They most likely did not until it was too late,” Elladan said slowly. He had been fingering the man’s clothing thoughtfully. “I wager they were not afraid of whoever it was that approached them. Else this man would not have rendered himself so vulnerable by coupling with his assailant.”

“What?!” Thranduil exclaimed. The Elvenking moved closer to see what the older twin had discovered.

Elladan shoved aside the man’s long tunic to reveal unlaced breeches and the evidence of a carnal encounter. With a hiss, Elrohir did the same for the other corpses and found their trousers in the same state of disarray.

Legolas frowned. “We did not notice that,” he said, obviously displeased.

“They were at their least cautious,” Elladan murmured. “It was then that their slayers struck.”

“But it still does not explain how they were killed,” Melthoron said in frustration.

Thranduil turned back to his youngest son. “I would have the full tale, Legolas. Come, you will relate to us all that you know.”

After dismissing the rest of the troop and other onlookers, he led the way to his study in the royal pavilion. Calling for food and wine for his newly returned son, he did not question Legolas until the latter had refreshed himself. Only then did he have the archer recount what happened, everyone listening keenly for anything that might give them a clue as to what had befallen the unfortunate men.

“So, they were encamped elsewhere,” Elladan remarked when Legolas was done. “Which means they had wandered away from each other with their respective partners. Who were they and where were they heading?”

“I believe they were traders from the settlements around Hithaeglir on their way to Dale or Esgaroth,” Legolas supplied. “They had many goods with them.”

“Did they not wonder what women would be doing all alone in such an isolated area?” Brethildor put in.

“Mayhap the women led them to believe that they were from nearby colonies.” Elrohir surmised. “Few men know that only Elves have settled the north of Greenwood. But I doubt that they cared for much beyond the quick tumble that was offered them.”

“Their lack of caution cost them their lives,” Melthoron snorted

Thranduil scowled. “I doubt this will be the end of it,” he stated. “We must be even more vigilant.” He addressed Brethildor. “Send out scouting parties to scour the north. I would know if there have been other victims of whom we are unaware. And, Melthoron, send messages to our neighbors, even to Erebor. If they do not already know something of this, I would have them warned.”

He glanced at Legolas then noted how Elrohir’s eyes would settle more oft than not on the archer. The Elvenking’s mouth tightened. Always well informed of the goings on within his kingdom, he was not ignorant of the whispers surrounding his youngest son’s relationship with the Elf-lord nor did he think Legolas anything less than culpable for what those whispers suggested. The tale of Legolas’ precipitate and unannounced leave-taking of Elrohir had already reached his ears via the servants’ grapevine.

And his son had not redeemed himself upon his arrival either. He had not returned Elrohir’s greeting in kind or succored him when he overtaxed himself retrieving the dead man’s last thoughts. Even now he still had not shown any outward regard for his binding-mate, an odd thing considering they’d been apart for more than a week.

With a hint of reproof in his tone, he said to Legolas: “We will continue this later, ion nîn.—my son. “For now, I suggest you take your rest and spend what is left of the day with Elrohir.”

Legolas started at his father’s words then glanced at Elrohir. The twin’s face remained impassive in the presence of the king but a flicker of emotion showed for an instant in his eyes. Feeling guilty, Legolas acquiesced to his father’s command.

After they had left, Elladan sighed and glanced at his law-father. “You should not have to tell him what to do, Adar”—Father—he murmured.

Thranduil, his mouth still tight, replied, “I know.” He shook his head and added, “Truth be told, I am tempted to take my hand to his backside. ‘Tis a pity he is too old for such measures.”

Such plainspoken criticism of their youngest brother elicited surprised reactions from Melthoron and Brethildor. It was a rare day when even Thranduil found Legolas’ behavior wanting.

Meanwhile, Legolas and Elrohir reached their chamber. With a relieved sigh, Legolas at once changed into fresh clothing, deferring a much longed for warm bath until after the evening meal. Elrohir watched him frowningly. At length he spoke.

“Why did you not tell me you were leaving with the patrol?” the warrior quietly asked.

Legolas shrugged. “I only thought of it when I awoke,” he said. “Since you were still asleep I decided not to disturb you.”

“You could have left a note.”

“I did not think of it.”

Elrohir pursed his lips grimly. "'Tis not pleasant having to learn of your whereabouts from someone else,” he said.

Legolas suddenly swung around and faced him, eyes flashing. “I came here to rest, Elrohir,” he snapped. “Not to be reproached. I would very much appreciate it if you would leave me in peace.”

Twilight pools glittered dangerously. Stifling an urge to lash out with a well-deserved punch, Elrohir answered instead, “As you wish.”

Without further ado, he left the bedchamber. A surge of remorse clutched at the prince and he nearly followed. But his pride hindered him and with stubborn resolve he refrained from doing what any Elf with an ounce of sense would have done.

He saw no more of Elrohir for the rest of the day. The darkling Elf stayed away, spending his time with his twin or speaking with the rangers about the corpses, questioning them more thoroughly about the circumstances under which they had found them. If it struck the warrior Elves as odd that the Lord Elrohir should seek information from them when he could have gotten it from Prince Legolas himself, they did not give voice to it. And when he took his meals with his twin and law-sister, staying pointedly away from the prince, no one dared question that either.

So grievous was his resentment that he could not even bring himself to return to their apartment to bathe. Instead he had taken his bath in Elladan’s rooms, borrowing a robe after he was done. But seeing Nimeithel’s sleepy countenance, he knew he could not impinge on his brother’s time any longer. With a sigh, he thanked them for their forbearance and reluctantly returned to his own chambers.

Upon entering, his first thought was that the apartment was empty. But then he discerned movement in the bathing chamber and went to see if Legolas was within. He stopped at the door, unwillingly mesmerized by the sight that greeted him.

Legolas had just emerged from his own bath and now stood to one side of the room, toweling himself dry. His skin glowed golden in the candlelight, the shadows defining most succinctly the lines and shallows of his long, well-toned form. His damp mane streamed down his back like a shimmering silken curtain.

Elrohir struggled against the reaction this image evoked in him but knew it would be in vain. He was never happy when they were not together, not since he had won the archer’s heart. Their binding had made it all the more difficult to endure being apart even for the length of a mere week. And the sheer beauty of the picture before him was no help at all.

Acknowledging the fruitlessness of further resistance, he silently approached the prince and slipped his arms around him from behind. Legolas started but quickly recognized the presence of the younger twin. He leaned back into the embrace and for a few heartbeats they remained thus, relishing the renewed closeness between them that had been aborted earlier in the day.

At length, Elrohir moved around him and pushed him gently against the wall. Wordlessly, he leaned in and captured the archer in a slow, tantalizing kiss. Legolas surrendered to it at once; the Elf-lord had always been able to unravel him with his potent kisses. Now was no exception as he felt his lips parted, his mouth invaded and explored.

He moaned in protest when Elrohir broke the contact only to groan when the other paid attention to the side of his neck, slowly moving up its length to nuzzle his ear then trailing down once more to nibble at his throat. An unfamiliar scent pierced his senses. He shoved the robe off the twin’s shoulders impatiently.

“Take this off,” he demanded, his voice rough, for Elrohir’s tongue was now tracing a path down his chest. “It smells of Elladan!”

A husky chuckle inflamed him further. “I had thought there was no difference in our scents,” Elrohir remarked, paying particular attention to one already hard nipple even as he shrugged off the offending robe completely.

“Nay,” Legolas gasped as the Elf-knight moved even lower to lave the taut planes of his abdomen. “I can tell the difference. I will have no one else in our bed with us.”

“As to that, the bed can wait.”

Legolas shuddered as his groin was licked and his thighs gently bitten. And then he pressed hard against the wall, needing the support, when Elrohir ran his tongue along his length. It had been a long week and, Elbereth! how he had missed the dark-haired twin. Moments later, he could no longer think about anything as his mate engulfed him in the warmth of his mouth.

Elrohir was a master at such pleasuring. Long experience and a predilection for variety in his early youth had taught him more than was considered seemly even amongst Elfkind. Legolas sometimes wondered if it was a blessing or a torment or both to have so much knowledge put to good if cataclysmic use on him.

He was soon reduced to a shaking, barely standing mass of thrumming nerves and shivery muscles grasping at Elrohir’s shoulders to brace himself. He would have gladly collapsed onto the floor for his knees had suddenly grown uncooperative and threatened to give way. But Elrohir’s strong hands and arms held him up, trapping him against the wall. And then the Elf-lord went even further, reaching up behind him and sliding a finger into his body to stroke him from within. Legolas hissed at the unexpected contact, nearly rearing but for the twin’s firm hold on his hips.

It was too much. That suckling mouth, the swirling tongue, his stroking finger. Completion came in rolling waves of sensation that swept up and down his whole body before pooling explosively in the center of his being. With a strangled cry he spilled his release into the Elf-knight’s willing mouth.

He would have sunk to his knees if Elrohir had not risen and caught him in his arms, a knowing smile on his handsome countenance. He clung to the twin, trying to force some semblance of order upon the sensual chaos in his mind and body.

“That-that was quite a welcome,” he finally managed to say, his voice still ragged.

Elrohir grinned. “You’re very welcome,” he replied impishly.

Legolas looked at him with fond exasperation. “You always manage to undo me,” he said. “I doubt I will ever be able to catch up with you.”

“But I enjoy it when you try, Calenlass,” the warrior teased him. “You are a fast learner and your apprenticeships seldom last longer than the space of a night. Indeed, your mastery in swordplay is not to be belittled.”

The prince’s eyes gleamed darkly as his passion began to build anew even as his strength returned. Elrohir also had a way with words that was guaranteed to ignite his desire for the darkling Elf. It was an addiction, dangerous to the archer’s mind, that waxed with each passing year and threatened his already tenuous hold on his emotions and desires where the younger twin was concerned.

The Elven prince had come a long way since the days when he had declared he would never care for the touch of an ellon, or male Elf. Elrohir had awakened in him the long-dormant Edhil duality the Greenwood Elves had tried to subdue in their need to keep their numbers substantial and formidable amidst the vagaries of life in Middle-earth. As love slowly overtook him his initial hesitant pliancy with Elrohir progressed into willing and then eager complicity in their couplings. Their subsequent espousal had further intensified that driving desire to join their bodies and souls as often as possible.

Unbidden, the need to reestablish control over himself came upon him. It was a need that had grown since their binding. A need he assiduously fed for fear of losing himself to the inexplicable pull he felt deep within his being whenever he was with Elrohir. Without warning, he insistently drew the warrior into the bedchamber and pushed him down onto the bed. Before Elrohir could muster a question or comment of any kind, he pinned him down with his body and sealed his mouth to the other Elf’s, effectively silencing him.

Faint alarm rang in Elrohir’s mind. He had come to recognize this pattern of sudden reaction after he pleasured the other. It invariably led to the archer demanding that he yield. Indeed, in the past year alone, the balance between them had tilted severely with Legolas taking him so often that he could actually count the times when their positions were reversed. He had the disturbing feeling that they were no longer equals in their conjugal bed and, even more troubling, that Legolas preferred it that way.

But his misgivings were swept away as the archer now paid homage to his body in turn. Despite their earlier banter, Legolas was no laggard in the love-arts. As Elrohir had observed, he was a swift apprentice and could easily reduce his spouse to a state of helpless wanting. He proceeded to do so now, hungrily claiming Elrohir with as much dexterity as the warrior had done to him but a few minutes earlier.

The Elf-knight gasped as he was mounted swiftly and arbitrarily. But as always, the mere thought that he shared himself with Legolas, that it was his golden prince who took him thus was enough to vanquish all other considerations. He gave in to the tumult within him, allowed himself to ride the crest of pleasure their joinings never failed to unleash. As both let go of all control, the binding-channel opened fully between them and their feelings flowed across unhindered. The result was a shared swathing of mounting rapture, an experience that defied all description. Elrohir reached his peak uttering one name, the only name that meant the world to him. Hearing his own name upon the archer’s lips as he, too, came to completion, further heightened his bliss.

Legolas collapsed against Elrohir’s chest, still panting slightly. He listened to the Elf-warrior’s heartbeat as it slowly returned to its normal pace. Agile fingers tenderly raked his silver-gold tresses, untangling the silky strands. It was a soothing gesture that made him more than content to be back in the twin’s arms.

“Definitely a most apt pupil,” he heard Elrohir’s still breathy but gently teasing voice.

He raised his head and looked at the twin, liking the rosy glow of his countenance. He grinned cheekily. “I merely followed the example of a most competent teacher,” he replied.

The grey eyes were soft with affection. Whatever had disturbed the Elf-lord’s calm earlier was quiescent for now. Relieved, Legolas lay back beside him.

“Valar, ‘tis good to be back,” he commented lazily.

Elrohir glanced at him, another smile beginning to grace his sinuous lips.

Legolas suddenly snickered. He looked at the darkling Elf, eyes twinkling with merriment. “You do not know how much I missed this,” he said. “You may count yourself fortunate that there was no Elf in the scouting party with looks to match yours. Else I might have turned to him or her for relief!”

He turned his eyes upwards to stare into the shadows of the ceiling as he spoke and thereby missed Elrohir’s startled then incredulous reaction. The twin could not believe his ears. He felt his heart grow heavy once more. Did Legolas not realize just how much such words stung?

He swallowed hard and tried to push away his doubts. Mayhap he was making too much of what was most certainly a jocular remark. But try as he might he could not dispel the pain. He could make as many excuses as he could think of but it all came down to one immutable fact. Espoused Edhil never spoke thus, not even in jest. It was regarded as execrable taste for one binding-mate to make allusions to the other’s potential for unfaithfulness; it was downright repugnant to suggest one’s own self might be tempted to it. Bound Elves’ instinctive regard for their spouses was supposed to prevent them from even bantering about something so unheard of and forbidden as infidelity within a living relationship.

Again, worry assailed him. Why did Legolas not seem to feel this natural restraint? This was not the first time he had made such allusions; only the most recent and barefaced.

“Elrohir?” The archer’s voice cut into his troubled thoughts. “Why so quiet of a sudden?”

Elrohir tried to smile, determinedly suppressing the welling sadness that seemed to overtake him so frequently of late. He shook his head and simply said, “I was thinking how much I missed you,” placing careful emphasis on the pronoun.

It did not seem to register on the prince’s mind for he only smirked and replied, “I should hope so!”

Elrohir quelled a sigh of frustration. He gazed at the archer and quietly studied his elegant profile. The contrast between them went far beyond mere coloring and carriage. The ways of their minds and demeanor also diverged significantly.

Elrohir, child of Eldarin Imladris, for all his ferocity and passion, was stately grace and deep learning personified. The latter was to be expected of a son of Elrond, the former a legacy of the High-elven culture of the last great haven of the Noldor in Middle-earth.

Legolas, on the other hand, though of royal blood, was as elemental as nature itself. Born of the noblest of Grey-elves, he was still a child of Greenwood.

Thranduil was by no means an unlearned, backwoods Elf. He had lived amongst the Eldar of Lindon in his youth ere his and his kinsman Celeborn’s removal to the forests in the east where they had founded realms and ruled over the more rustic Silvan Elves. As such he had not neglected his children’s education. But much had been withheld from them because of the Greenwood kingdom’s isolation from the other elven realms.

Lithesome as the mighty stags that roamed the forest glades, Legolas was far more innocent than Elrohir had ever been as an Elfling in fabled Rivendell. He was certainly wiser than most mere mortals due to the many years of his life and his long association with the Peredhil twins. But in comparison to Elrohir with his loremaster’s learning, he was still very much a student; an eager and able one but a student nevertheless.

Yet that did not in any way diminish his allure in Elrohir’s eyes. His heart was pure and his mind ever hungry for knowledge. And he had a zest for life that brightened his eyes from within. For these reasons and many more, the twin had come to love him as he had never loved any other, be they Elf male or maid. And always will, he admitted gravely to himself.

He reached for the prince’s hand, entwining their supple fingers fondly. “I love you, Calenlass,” he whispered.

To his disconcertment, Legolas looked at him with amusement and said half-jokingly, “I must decline your not so subtle hint, roch vreg.” —wild stallion. He stretched out his lean form, sleek as a panther. “For once, I must plead exhaustion and would take some rest.” He withdrew his hand from the warrior’s clasp.

Elrohir nearly choked at the careless words and offhand manner. Trembling violently, he managed to make a reply though it took all his will not to imbue it with the acid it so fervently begged for. If he allowed his anger to surface now, Legolas would respond in kind. Elrohir was in no mood for another quarrel. Truth be told, he had neither the heart nor the energy for one this night. Indeed, day by day both dwindled as did his will to mend the ever-growing rift between them.

"'Twas no hint for anything, Legolas,” he said tightly.

The fair-haired Elf glanced at him, puzzled by the tone of his voice. But the twin was staring impassively into the dark. A prickle of unease touched the prince. Unfortunately, the irresistible lure of much needed sleep overcame him and he dismissed it, thinking to deal with whatever the problem was in the morning.

Elrohir heard the change in his breathing as it turned into the steady rhythm that went with slumber. He closed his eyes tightly, stifling the anguished groan that longed to escape his lips. What has become of him? he asked himself not for the first time. Where was the sweet and affectionate prince he had first loved as a friend, then brother, and finally as his heart’s mate?

He lay in the dark, unable to find rest, feeling incongruously alone. That wounded him keenly. To share the same bed with Legolas, to know the warmth of his body close by and still feel so utterly alone and forsaken – it was unbearable.

Silently, he slipped out of bed, pulled on a loose shirt and trousers and left the room.

*******

It was well past the midnight hour when Legolas knocked on the door of his sister’s apartment. A few minutes later, a sleepy Elladan opened the door. He blinked woozily when he saw the archer. He came fully awake in an instant.

“Legolas, do you realize what time it is?” he scowled.

“Forgive me, gwanur”—kinsman—Legolas apologized. “But Elrohir is not in our rooms and I wondered if you knew where he might be.”

The older twin stared at him a moment. Then, as if coming to a decision, he stepped back and motioned to the prince to enter the sitting room. Puzzled, Legolas did so then stopped in surprise.

There, stretched out upon the couch, was Elrohir, fast asleep. Legolas looked at Elladan in confusion. The darkling Elf answered his unvoiced question.

“He came to us a few hours ago asking if he could stay here,” he said. “He said he did not want to be alone.”

The statement was like a slap to the archer. “But he was not alone!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice, conscious of his slumbering sister in the chamber beyond.

“Mayhap, he felt like it,” Elladan pointed out.

“But why?”

Elladan glowered at his friend, wondering if he was truly unknowing of the distress he had caused Elrohir or if he was being deliberately obtuse.

“Were you happy to come home to him?” he challenged the other.

Legolas stared at the older twin in surprise. “Of course I was. He knows I missed him.”

“Nay, you told him you missed your couplings. There is a world of difference between missing someone and missing an act that can be easily assuaged by any willing body.”

Legolas started, recalling his jape. “Is that what drove him here?” he said incredulously. "'Tis uncommonly sensitive of him to take offense at a mere jest.”

Elladan hissed with exasperation. First Nimeithel, now Legolas. But at least his wife had the mood swings wrought by her pregnancy to blame for her sometimes unruly tongue. Otherwise, she was very much aware of the indecorousness of such talk and never intentionally spoke thus to him. What excuse did Legolas have?

“Uncommonly sensitive?” he growled, his eyebrows rising in anger. “And would you be so calm had he told you that in your absence he had been tempted to take some withy maid or strapping Elf to bed?”

Legolas paused then shook his head, acknowledging the older twin’s point.

“Elves do not jest about such things,” Elladan pressed on caustically. “Not if we care for our loved ones’ feelings. I am surprised you do not know this.”

The prince stayed silent, Elladan’s rebuke striking him to the core. Elladan exhaled, willing his anger to fade and not quite succeeding. “You left him with nary a word,” he chided. “He had to learn of your departure from a servant during breakfast. Have you any idea how humiliating that was for him? An Elf who does not know where his spouse is?”

Legolas blanched guiltily. He had barked at Elrohir for voicing the same sentiment. Then, hardly had the Elf-knight tried to mend matters between them, when he had hurt him once more with his thoughtless sally.

“Will he come back with me?” he asked hesitantly.

Elladan heaved a frustrated sigh. “I do not know. It would depend on—” He regarded the prince acidly. “Tell me something, gwanur, when was the last time you told him you love him?”

The broad hint was not lost on the archer. He flinched inwardly once more. I love you, Greenleaf, the younger twin had said earlier. His response had been worse than inadequate. It had been downright criminal.

Seeing his law-brother’s reaction, Elladan shook his head and said with a touch of aspersion, “I thought as much. Ai, Legolas, you astound me with your unending capacity to hurt him.” He silently retreated into the bedchamber leaving behind a shocked prince.

Chastened, Legolas softly approached his sleeping bereth and knelt before him. Uncertain how to rouse him, he settled instinctively on a warm kiss. Elrohir moaned then opened his eyes confusedly. They widened in surprise when he beheld the prince.

“Please come back,” Legolas softly implored him. When the twin hesitated, he added pleadingly, "'Tis lonely without you.”

After another pause, Elrohir finally nodded and rose along with the prince. They silently walked the short distance to their apartments.

Uneasy at Elrohir’s demeanor, Legolas sought to dispel the uncomfortable silence between them. Once within, he stopped the Elf-knight from slipping back into their bed and took his hands in his, squeezing them earnestly. He peered into the twilight eyes with anxiety.

“What I said earlier was in jest, Aduial,” he said. “I know it was in ill-taste and should never have been uttered, but I swear it was nothing more than that. You are the only one I could ever want, Elrohir. Indeed, I missed you these past many days, I truly did.”

The warrior remained pensive. “If you say so,” Elrohir briefly answered.

Legolas winced at the passive response. Recalling the older twin’s pointed assertions, Legolas realized how correct Elladan had been about his behavior and Elrohir’s feelings.

He cupped the warrior’s face, made his spouse look at him. “My actions were unconscionable,” he admitted. “Please forgive me.” He felt the sting of remorse smite him when Elrohir’s eyes failed to regain their argent light. “I love you, my Elf-knight,” he whispered fervently. “Never doubt that I do.” He sealed his mouth to Elrohir’s in as tender a kiss as he could muster.

For a moment, Elrohir hesitated. How often had they gone through this before? Always the prince would try to repair whatever damage he had inflicted upon their relationship but he did it piecemeal and it never lasted. Sooner or late, there would be another confrontation and they would repeat the same process all over again. And still he had no explanation for his mate’s behavior. How could he when Legolas refused to speak of it and any attempt to discuss the problem only resulted in discord?

But in the end, he could not resist Legolas’ overtures. He had meant it when he told Elladan his heart belonged to the prince. Even if he shredded it to bits and cast the pieces into the deeps of the sea. He curled his arms around Legolas and pulled him flush against him. When the archer pressed into him invitingly, he did not resist and allowed Legolas to draw him down onto their bed.

For this night at least, he forgot his worries as the heated sweetness of their joining numbed his mind and caressed his soul.

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

Glossary:

Edhil - Elven, Elves

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

bereth - spouse

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

To be continued…
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Greenleaf & Imladris 22-Bereth:To Have and To Hold