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The Early Years: With Anor's Rise
By : nuwing
Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male
Views: 3471 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: 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
EpilogueLegolas looked toward the door with some surprise, not quite trusting his ears. Then he heard it again, soft but unmistakable...someone was knocking quietly, the sound barely audible over the splash of running water from the bathing chamber. Quickly slipping into his clean leggings, he moved toward the door, still toweling his wet hair. “Aye? Who is there?” he asked, one hand on the latch.
Normally the prince would have thrown open the door without thought, but...
Thranduil heard the hesitation in his son’s voice. “’Tis Ada,” he said, feeling strangely diffident. “Are you...busy, pen neth?”
“Nay, not at all,” Legolas replied, slinging the towel around his neck and smoothing his damp mane before sliding back the bolt. “Come in, Ada.”
As the door swung open, Legolas’ eyes lit on the dark blue bottle his father cradled carefully. “Miruvor!” he exclaimed, breaking into a broad grin. “For me?”
“For us,” Thranduil corrected, his eyes twinkling. “If you are inclined to share your good fortune. Elrond brought a case as a majority day offering.”
“I suppose I can share one bottle, if I have been gifted with twelve,” the prince conceded cheerfully, tossing away his towel before reaching for the heavy decanter. “Come, sit down and I will pour.”
Thranduil stood motionless, his hands still grasping the smooth blue glass, his attention riveted on fading bruises and the golden glint of two piercing rings.
“Ada? Are you...” Legolas began questioningly, then followed the king’s stare to his own newly-adorned chest.
“Where is Haldir?” Thranduil blurted out without ceremony, raising his eyes to his son’s face with surprising effort. The blue-green gaze met his steadily, only the slightest blush coloring the prince’s cheeks. ‘Innocence lost, indeed,’ the king thought, surprised at the ache that settled in his own chest.
“He is bathing,” Legolas replied with a nod toward the inner chamber door, which stood slightly ajar.
Taking the miruvor bottle from his father’s unresisting hands, the prince carried it to the table and pried out the stopper before realizing that Thranduil had remained near the door. “Ada,” he prodded, one golden eyebrow arching in surprise. “Come, sit down.”
The king settled himself at the table a bit warily, his gaze going repeatedly to the bathing chamber door. “Are you sure I am not interrupting?” he queried, sipping at the fiery cordial.
“I am sure,” Legolas insisted, laying a hand on his father’s arm. “I wanted to see you, also, Ada, before the formal festivities begin.”
“Are you well, ionen?” Thranduil asked, looking the prince over searchingly. “I do not want to pry, yet...”
“Aye, I am fine,” Legolas assured him soberly, before breaking into a devilish grin. “But I have seldom been more grateful for a well-padded chair.”
Thranduil stared dumbstruck at his formerly reticent son for a long moment, then burst into laughter. “The experience has done you no harm, it would seem, “ he chuckled, squeezing the prince’s shoulder tightly.
The faint creak of the bathing chamber door signaled Haldir’s presence, and both father and son turned toward the sound. The marchwarden stood in the open door, a low-slung towel his only covering. “Legolas? Will you bring my leggings, pen neth?” Flashing a smile at Thranduil, he added, “’Tis poor etiquette to appear before a king in naught but a towel.”
‘Especially when you have just bedded his son,’ the woodland monarch thought acidly, suppressing with difficulty an overwhelming – and admittedly unreasonable – urge to break Haldir’s jaw.
“I should be going, ionen,” Thranduil said, rising to his feet as the marchwarden entered the room. “I assume Haldir will accompany you to the pavilion?”
The prince slipped an arm around Haldir, frowning at the somewhat haughty tone of the question. He opened his mouth to speak, but his retort was silenced by a comforting squeeze from his companion.
“Only if it pleases you, híren,” the marchwarden answered in Legolas’ stead, dipping his head respectfully before meeting the king’s eyes.
Thranduil held the understanding gaze for a moment, then smiled apologetically, ashamed of his own ire and soothed by the obvious affection between his son and the Loríen elf. “There is no need for formality, mellonen,” he answered sincerely, clasping Haldir’s arm. “If you can forgive a father’s folly, it would please me greatly.”
As Thranduil left the chamber, Legolas turned to the marchwarden uncertainly. “I hope this will not cause a rift between you. I feared for your friendship, for a moment.”
Haldir pushed back a strand of golden hair, pressing a reassuring kiss to the prince’s forehead. “And for a moment, I feared for my neck,” he replied, eyes dancing. “’Twill be well, ernilen. He worries for you, that is all. We will do him proud at the feast.”
“And afterward?”
“Afterward?” Haldir teased, grinning at the rising color in the prince’s cheeks. “Is that an offer, pen neth?”
“That, marchwarden, is a demand, ” Legolas began, a brilliant smile spreading across his face.
“As I believe we have unfinished business.”
*~*~Finis~*~*~ Elvish Translations:
Ada – Papa, Dad
pen neth – young one
ionen – my son
ernilen – my prince- You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
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