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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 12116 -:- 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-Advent
- 2-Bridging
- 3-Pledges
- 4-Serendipity
- 5-Deepening
- 6-Request
- 7-Bedfellows
- 8-Liaison
- 9-Catalyst
- 10-Tidings
- 11-Profession
- 12-Rift
- 13-Seeking
- 14-Confluence
- 15-Oneness
- 16-Assignation
- 17-Covenant
- 18-Gambit
- 19-Recovery
- 20-Bond
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter III: Pledges

Mirkwood, TA 2082

Was it his imagination or was the forest just a wee bit more verdant than it had been for the longest time? Elrohir peered out with a hopeful smile at the trees beyond the balcony of the guest chamber he shared with Elladan. Though the canopy was as thick as ever, Ithil had managed to penetrate it with her silvery light and illuminate the growth that sprouted about the residential pavilion of Mirkwood’s royal family. It seemed the malignant influence of Dol Guldur had waned somewhat ever since its mysterious master had abandoned it.

He and Elladan had arrived but a few hours earlier for one of their twice-yearly visits to the Woodland Realm. Such sojourns ensured that the hard-won treaty between Imladris and Mirkwood remained intact. Matters had progressed quite encouragingly. Not enough that Thranduil or Elrond might consider each other boon companions but certainly enough that the twins did not have to take care of conveying all of their father’s correspondence to the Elvenking and Thranduil had actually deigned to dispatch a few formal letters to the Half-elven lord.

Feelings of mutual ire had not dissipated completely of course. The grudges held for so many centuries could not be set aside so easily. There was still many a caustic confrontation whenever parties from either side of the divide met. But vehement quarrels had decreased significantly and so had the lamentable fisticuffs that had so marred the Elves’ reputation for cool reserve.

The twins had taken it upon themselves to help maintain this admittedly fragile state of affairs by presenting themselves as frequently as possible at Thranduil’s court. For one thing, it permitted them to preempt any latent feelings of resentment against Rivendell from boiling over into action. For another, Legolas would not have had it any other way.

Elrohir smiled at the thought. Now all of nineteen years of age, Legolas had proven a steadfast friend, a most apt and adept pupil and a warm-hearted child who never failed to bring ease to the Elf-knight’s oft beset heart. For such was the legacy of the Peredhil that he and Elladan had had to shoulder their share of duties from their early youth onward.

So embroiled was their family in the ongoing events of both elven and human realms that they seldom knew the peace of mind less knowledgeable beings enjoyed. They felt the weight of their heritage as keenly as their father but, with the solid foundation of their love-shrouded childhoods to hearten them, discharged their responsibilities without demur and always with an eye to the future and the consequences of whatever they did.

Still and all, they knew what it meant to be alone and lonely. More so Elrohir than Elladan.

Unlike his brother, Elrohir was not one to find assuagement of his fraught feelings in mere couplings. Though he had been as profligate as Elladan in the first millennium of their lives, he had always been more at ease with partners with whom he shared more than just his bed. Not for him one-night trysts where he could not recall his bedmate’s name on the morrow. To this day, he was regarded with much affection by his erstwhile lovers for the kindness and concern with which he treated them even after breaking off relations with them. Recently, he had indulged himself far less than of yore, going for years on end without bedding anyone. Elladan often teased him about this, suggesting that he was far more human than any had suspected for him to slow down in this field so soon. But in truth it was simply a lack of desirable partners that stayed him.

He and Elladan had decided tastes in their bedmates and those tastes diverged despite their twinship. Whilst his brother enjoyed buxom ellith and brawny ellyn—Elf-maids and male Eves—he gravitated to the opposite. Utmost litheness, ethereal beauty and the sweetest of countenances drew his attention. More so if such seemingly fragile qualities housed a strong heart and will. Nothing was guaranteed to catch his eye as surely as a willowy archer with a deadly aim or a lissome maid of sharp wit. Such comely specimens of Elfkind were not unusual but they were not in abundance either particularly with the steady departure of many Elf-women for the Undying Lands.

If he was less inclined these days to take anyone in pleasure it was because so few called to his heart as well. To Elrohir, the act of coupling was most gratifying only when the hearts of both partners were also engaged to some extent. It did not have to be true love. But there had to be some affection, even that which friends and comrades-in-arms shared.

He turned when he heard Elladan enter, clad in a bathing-robe, his midnight locks clinging damply to his neck and shoulders. Unlike in Rivendell, private bathing chambers were a luxury here. Only the king had one attached to his chamber yet even he made frequent use of the pavilion’s common baths. Elrohir raised a questioning eyebrow when Elladan reached into the wooden wardrobe that stood against one side of their room and pulled out, not night-clothing, but a shirt and a pair of long breeches.

“Spending the night elsewhere, gwaniuar?”—older twin?—he remarked.

Elladan smirked as he pulled on his clothes. “I have finally gained the acquiescence of the lusty Aelind,” he informed his brother. “Think you I would pass up this chance to tumble that wench?”

Elrohir snorted and shook his head. She was the second daughter of Seregon, one of Thranduil’s captains. His many children were very alike to him, strapping males and chesty females, rarities amongst Elf-kind. And all were still unattached. Small wonder Elladan was bent on bedding each and every one of them. He had already seduced a couple of said maid’s brothers and her eldest sister during previous visits.

“You are insatiable,” he mildly chided.

“And you are in dire need of a bedding yourself,” Elladan retorted.

“I pride myself in being selective,” Elrohir reminded him.

Elladan chuckled. “Just take care you do not wither from want of attention to that part of your anatomy,” he commented.

“And just take care that you do not unravel the treaty on account of too much attention to yours,” Elrohir rejoined swiftly. “Really, Elladan, whatever will Seregon say when he learns you have skewered nearly half his brood and will likely take on the rest ere he can marry them off?”

“He will say I have impeccable taste and then thank the Powers that someone has paid court to his unruly litter,” Elladan said smugly.

Elrohir had to laugh then. He could not gainsay Elladan there. Seregon’s clutch was a lively one and oft times in not so pleasant ways. His sons were known for their rabble-rousing, his daughters for fishwife vaporing.

“Go on your way then,” he snorted. “I suppose ‘tis your way of storing up for the drought that is to follow.”

Elladan raised amused eyebrows at him. “Not so much a drought for me as for you, tôr neth”—younger brother—he pointed out. “There is all of Gondor after all to fill my needs.”

Elrohir rolled his eyes. “Have a good night - asleep or not.”

Elladan chuckled and left the room. Elrohir, on the other hand, snuffed out the candles on the writing desk, leaving only one solitary taper on his bedside table alight. He was just slipping beneath the covers of his bed when he heard something. From the balcony.

Swift as a cat, he snatched up the long white knife he always kept close by and leaped to his feet in one rolling motion. He was in the heart of the Woodland Realm but one never knew where danger could strike. One never took security for granted. Not in these times.

“Elrohir, ‘tis only me!” cried a familiar voice.

The twin sighed and returned the knife to its place beneath his pillow. He waited for the owner of the voice to make his appearance. A moment later, a pair of bright sapphire eyes peered guiltily around the jamb of the balcony door.

“How many times have I told you ‘tis perilous to creep up on a warrior?” Elrohir said somewhat tartly. “I could have sliced you up and asked questions too late.”

Legolas came into the room looking quite abashed. He was clad as Elrohir for sleeping, his slender child’s frame emphasized by the softness of his bed-shirt and trousers.

“I am sorry,” he said. “But I truly meant to warn you ere I entered.”

“I should hope so,” Elrohir remarked. “And just why did you come by way of the balcony when ‘tis so much more civilized to pass through a door?”

“But not as much fun,” Legolas piped up, a grin beginning to crease his lips. “Or as exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Aye, to see how long it would take before you noted my presence!”

Elrohir tried to look stern but in the face of Legolas’ merry demeanor, he could not maintain his grim countenance. With a resigned sigh, he smiled and reached out a welcoming hand. At once, the young prince hastened to him and was soon seated atop his lap.

“So, why have you come here and at such an hour?” Elrohir questioned, brushing shining strands of silky hair from the child’s face.

“To be with you,” Legolas promptly answered. “You spent the entire evening with Ada, Gilfaron and Denilos and scarcely a minute with me.”

“I know,” Elrohir admitted. “But there were matters of import that had to be discussed ere Elladan and I could turn our thoughts to leisure.”

Legolas pouted. “Am I not a matter of import to you?” he asked a little dolefully.

Elrohir stared at him, somewhat taken aback by the Elfling’s contention. “You are, pen neth”—young one—he assured Legolas. “‘Tis just that other matters must take precedence whether we wish it or not. You know you are ever part of my reason to come to Mirkwood.” He stroked the prince’s cheek tenderly. “Sometimes my sole reason.”

Legolas beamed happily at this evidence of his beloved Elf-knight’s regard for him. “I wish I could visit Imladris,” he said wistfully. “I would go for no other reason than to see you, rochir vell.”—dear knight.

Elrohir gazed warmly at his woodland friend. “Some day, you will come to my home,” he said. “When our lands are in true accord, I will have the pleasure of welcoming you to the Last Homely House.”

Legolas’ response was to snuggle even more adamantly into Elrohir’s arms. He nuzzled the base of the warrior’s throat, knowing how ticklish the latter was in that specific area. Sure enough, Elrohir soon laughed and tried to draw away.

“You are wicked to torment me so,” he scolded the Elfling with spurious umbrage.

Legolas snickered and pressed his nose even harder against Elrohir’s neck, eliciting the desired effect of having the twin chuckling helplessly. They both fell back upon the bed, Legolas gleefully straddling Elrohir as a victorious warrior would his defeated foe.

“Do you surrender?” he demanded impishly.

“I surrender,” Elrohir chortled. “Now do let me up, Legolas. Valar, but you are getting heavy!”

“I am not!” the Elfling protested as he clambered off the twin.

“But you are,” Elrohir said, sitting up. He fondly ruffled Legolas’ hair. “You are growing up so fast, lass dithen.”—little leaf.

To his surprise, Legolas suddenly frowned with distress. “Will I be much grown up by the time you come back?” he asked woefully.

“What do you mean?” Elrohir asked, puzzled.

“I heard you and Elladan,” the little Elf said. “He mentioned Gondor. That is in the south, isn’t it?” Elrohir nodded, now sobered himself. “Why are you going there?”

Elrohir took him upon his lap again before explaining. “No king rules in Gondor today. ‘Tis the Stewards who will reign over those lands until the king returns. My adar”—father—“knew much about Mardil, he who took up its rule after Eärnur’s demise. Gondor was in good hands while he held the white rod. But now he, too, has joined his fathers and his son, Eradan, is the new Steward. We need to know what kind of man he is and how the southern kingdom will fare under him.”

“But why?” Legolas persisted. “Gondor is so far away. What does it have to do with you?”

“Much, little one,” Elrohir said quietly. “The kings of Gondor and Arnor were close kin. If there is any who may claim the throne of Gondor some day, ‘twill be one of Isildur’s heirs. Heirs my father will foster henceforth in Imladris.”

Legolas pondered this silently. At length, he sighed and looked up at the warrior. “When will you return?” he asked. When Elrohir failed to respond at once, his eyes widened in alarm. “Why can you not answer?” he gasped. “Will you be away so long?”

Elrohir clutched the now tearful Elfling to him. “I fear that is so, Legolas,” he murmured. “‘Tis not a matter of observing what passes down south in a mere year or two. And we shall visit not only Minas Tirith but all the fiefs as well. ‘Twill be hard travelling for many a year and oft under guise.”

A distinct sniffle reached his ears and he held Legolas more snugly. The slender arms were wrapped tightly around him, the lithe body pressed flushed against him, their forms so close that in the dim light they seemed as one.

“I will miss you,” Legolas said mournfully.

“I will miss you, too,” Elrohir whispered. “But I will keep in touch with you, pen neth. I swear I will send you letters as oft as I can.”

“But ‘tis not the same as having you here,” Legolas sniffed. “Why do you have to go, Elrohir? Can’t someone else take your place?”

“No other Elves look as we do who could pass as Men with a little effort,” Elrohir said. “Aranarth will come with us for a space but he cannot leave his people without guidance for too long.” He lifted the princeling’s chin with a finger and looked into limpid but watery eyes. “I was born to perform certain duties as you were, Legolas,” he murmured. “You are a prince of this realm and one day, you will be called upon to serve your father and people in whatever way you are able. And you will not always like the manner of that service but you will do it nonetheless and do it well.”

A single tear trickled down one rounded cheek. Elrohir tenderly wiped it away with his thumb. Finally, lips quivering, Legolas nodded and pressed his face into the twin’s warm chest.

“May I stay with you tonight?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course, little one,” Elrohir murmured. “And every night until we leave if you so wish.”

Eyes bright with unshed tears lifted to him. “I do,” Legolas whispered. “Will Elladan mind?”

“Nay, he will not mind,” Elrohir said. A twitch of his mouth betrayed the humor that limned his next words. “He may not even spend enough time here to know your presence.”

He did not try to explain that cryptic reply to the puzzled Elfling. Best to leave such matters unspoken of until Legolas was much older.

“You will not forget me, Elrohir?” Legolas said pleadingly.

“Of course not, penen vell”—my dear one—Elrohir replied soothingly. “The question is whether you will still remember me when I return.”

Legolas’ embrace tightened even further. “I will remember you, I promise!” he exclaimed with innocent fervor. “I could never forget you, Elrohir. You will always be my best friend.”

Elrohir pressed a gentle kiss to Legolas’ smooth brow. He said no more but lay down on the bed and drew the young prince into the curve of his body to nestle in his arms. Despite his distress, the little Elf did not long resist the call of sleep and soon drifted into repose. But it was long before Elrohir did the same as he watched over his precious charge.

It would indeed be many years ere he returned home. He had not told Legolas the whole truth – that he and Elladan had reckoned their sojourn in Gondor would most likely take a decade or even more. He could only hope that Legolas would succeed in keeping his pledge and not forget him during the ensuing years. Or deem their great friendship with less regard than he did now.

That would be the most painful price of all for the sake of duty. One he was not certain he could bear to pay.

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

Glossary:

Ada - Papa

To be continued…
- 2
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- 4
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Twilight Tales - Sacred Bond