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Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8921 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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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Aearlinn - Trévreithad

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We Return to the Wood Elves' Compound ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thick and woolly, redolent with the warm, fecund breath of growth and life, the dark hummed and chirped, sighed and rustled, verily filled with the world it obscured. Within it chased the subdued sounds of nocturnal life, the rich aromas of earth and slumbering green things, the shadowy spectrum of greys and blacks from pale and dusky dimness to ill-defined wells of infinite sable. Night was not a thing to inspire fear but a familiar friend, a nostalgic glimpse into time long departed when the eyes of the elves knew no other landscape. In contrast, the abrupt bloom of brilliant light obscured the world as it displaced the dark, usurping mastery of the terrain and stunning into silence the quiet creepers stalking the shaded vale, both predator and prey, awakened the resting trees, and threw all of nature off balance. Unnatural light, it cast no shadows and stole perception. Beyond blinding, it was annihilating rapture. Its splendour increased until it was hotter, whiter, and more dazzling than the sun.

The only sensation akin to it in his experience was the blisteringly glorious agony that accompanied the severance of hroa and feä in the instant following Námo's summons to Mandos. Glorfindel shut his eyes against it and still the liquid radiance burned into his brain. When and where had he encountered enemies so potent and battle so terminal when none of the Shadow's creatures remaining on Arda were a match for his skill and determination? Was he not still in Imladris? Mayhap this was a nightmare. The incandescent torment slicing through his scull belied that notion. He threw his hands before his face and turned aside, crouching low and emitting a low cry of dread he was not cognisant of uttering.

"Be still; it will pass momentarily," a calm voice exhorted him as a comforting hand clasped his shoulder. "I beg forgiveness; in such a fair realm, it is easy to forget evil days and the life you lived before. This is not a burden we ought to have visited upon you, nor was it intended to be hurtful. The woodland folk are but playful and inclined to be pranksters at times."

"It wanes," groaned Glorfindel and cautiously lowered his hands, blinking at the brightly haloed form before him. The voice was familiar but he could not place it, the confusion of his senses preventing sufficient concentration to bring the name to mind. The sudden flare of the flames had taken him unawares and erupted so near he feared to discover himself immersed within the heart of the bonfire. "Who are you?"

"Elril pêd, maethor brand a beriathron o muindorion nin," (Elril speaks, noble warrior and protector of my nephew) the kindly voice replied. A careful tug propelled his captor into motion and he led the Balrog-slayer to a sheltered place not far from the raging bonfire and the rugged clearing, seating him on an incongruously opulent stool.

"Ah, that is better," sighed Glorfindel, smiling in thanks. He gazed upon the ancient countenance in curious wonder, for he still could not get over the connection between Legolas' people and Elrond's. Then he realised he was rudely staring and drew his eyes away, glancing about the clearing to watch the Wood Elves dancing and feasting all around them. The light was now that of any normal campfire, orange and yellow and shot with sparks and rising embers. "I have heard of the magic of the sylvans, but this is beyond all telling. Whence comes such flame? It begins as if Anor dropped to earth and how does it vanish and appear so quickly?"

"The folk of the woods know many such tricks," chortled Elril. "It is not for me to give away our best kept secrets. Be content that the game is finished; we would have you enjoy the night and join the dance."

"My thanks, but where is my Lord your nephew, Hîr Orchal? The journey here was not exactly untroubled, for all these are Elrond's own lands. Then the tricky fire confused and separated us. Where, also, are Erestor and the minstrel?"

"Do not be troubled, mellon, we have not been harmed."

Lindir's rich voice sounded behind him and Glorfindel rose, turning to spy his friends advancing hand in hand from the opposite side of the glade. He grinned to see it and shared his joy with the ancient ellon.

"No need to confer such lofty titles upon this old head," corrected the aged heir of Dior. "I relinquished that part of my life long Ages ago."

"So you say, Hîren, yet I cannot forget that you are a living link to the heritage of Thingol and Melian that spawned the House I was sent here to serve and protect," reminded Glorfindel.

"Enough," groused Erestor. "This is a party, Glorfindel. Dispense with duty for at least the next few hours. Here, this may aid your relaxation somewhat." He held forth a goblet half-filled with an amber liquid, frowning when the mighty general leaned forward and sniffed it delicately. "Oh come, they've no wish to poison us."

"Indeed not!" laughed Elril, but he took the cup and drank first to prove the point. "The brew is unique to Greenwood and I believe other realms call it 'fey wine', though it is less that sort of vintage and more like a fluid form of ecstasy." He nodded as the Balrog-slayer finally took a small sip of the potent concoction. "Aye, small quantities are recommended for those not acclimated to its properties."

"You do not lie," Glorfindel choked out, gasping in a noisy breath that did nothing to ease his burning oesophagus. He tried to clear his throat and was grateful beyond words when Lindir pressed a cup of clear water into his hands. Two gulps lessened the sharp discomfort and he at once became aware of the warmth spreading through his body, a pleasing sense of giddy delight accompanying the sensation. "Oh, I begin to understand its benefits," he murmured happily and tasted the drink again. This time the fire was more a radiant and gentle caress that touched his very soul. "And where is the Lord of the Valley and the Prince of the Woods?" he demanded, surveying the gyrating bodies whirling about and leaping amid the soaring flames. One or two sylvans looked back in amused curiosity. "I would offer a salute to the Mariner's son and the Mariner's nephew," called Glorfindel, receiving a smattering of approving 'yeas' from the Wood Elves close by. The dual reference gave him pause. "Valar, what does that make the babe?"

"Ai! Stated like that it sounds ter'bly scandalous, Hîren," a new reveller joined them, already thoroughly under the influence of the heady wine. "Marrying one's cousins, making inbred offspring, and all that sort of thing is so…so…" but Faelon could not find sufficient words to describe the unusual relationship and for no reason at all this became highly amusing. He giggled, a high-pitched and musical expulsion of air, while an exaggerated shrug finished his sentence instead.

"Alae nae," sighed Lindir. "You have had enough of that, Faelon." He tried to take the valet's goblet but the limber ellon twirled beyond his reach. The minstrel aimed a warning finger. "Heed me well; do not let Legolas overhear such notions. There are many generations between him and Elrond and while everyone knows it, he is a little sensitive just now to any implication of impropriety about their union and their babe."

"Oh, I won't," assured Faelon, though he was a tad bewildered. "What are we talking about?"

"Never mind, mellon," laughed Erestor. "Where are Elrond and his youthful mate?"

"Ah," nodded Faelon with gravity, causing him to stagger sideways into Glorfindel, who caught him and earned for his trouble a suspicious and confused look. "I am not of that persuasion, Hîr Glorfindel," he stated with great dignity as he shook free.

"What?" The Balrog-slayer stepped back hastily. "Nor am I! Faelon, you have overindulged."

"Yes?" asked the erstwhile servant, nodding sagely. "Yes, then why are you the one making unelish…unsedired…er…unwanted advanceshes?"

"I am not…oh confound it! Where is the happy couple?" Glorfindel turned again to Elril but it was the valet who answered.

"Just mind your manners, Hîren," intoned Faelon, pointing as he edged closer to Lindir. "Elrond made himself sick from too much drink and Legolas is…ahem…comforting him, over there somewhere," he waved vaguely with his wine glass beyond the trees behind them, "in a quaint little hut made of branches and twigs. Quite plush inside, though." He drank from the cup and did not seem to realise it was already empty. "Don't know why they had me bring all those fancy clothes and naughty toys and all when they're just going to be naked and stuck together the whole time anyway. Fucking like…like…Elbereth! Elrond just goes on and on and Legolas is insatiable. Nobody fucks like they do."

"Faelon!" All three of his Lord's friends exclaimed in unified shock as Elril exploded in laughter.

"Is there an antidote to this stuff?" asked Glorfindel, eyeing his cup askance.

"Who cares?" snorted Erestor, eyes gleaming in the night as he sidled next to Faelon. "Tell us more, mellon. What sort of antics do those two get up to? What sort of naughty toys does our dear Wood Elf prefer?"

"Nay, I'm no…no…my lips're sheeled…sealed lips," announced the valet with appropriate shock and dismay. "I would never tell about the great garnet balls he shoves up Legolas' arse or those mean looking clamps he snaps onto tiny li'l pink nipples," Faelon shuddered, "and the cock rings and leather cuffs and wooden phal…phal…peniseses and…"

"Valar!" Glorfindel was actually blushing and Lindir clapped a hand over the servant's mouth.

"That is not within the bounds of your station, mellon," he growled, but it was with Erestor he was more annoyed. "You should not encourage him, Meleth, for he does not know what he is saying."

"Aye, Meleth, a thoughtless relapse into behaviour I hoped never to repeat," the seneschal dropped his eyes to the ground. It was difficult to adapt, for so long he'd been accustomed to openly savouring the more salacious aspects of Elrond's relationship with Legolas.

"Meleth?" Faelon gaped, eyes agog with merriment as he looked from the minstrel to the seneschal and back. "You two are lovers? When did that happen? Ulmo's Balls, its like fox and a hare, a wolf and a hind, an eagle and a…a…something or other. It'll never last!" He broke into barking laughter, pointing as he staggered out of Lindir's clutches, unmindful of the furious expressions colouring the lovers' faces.

"Faelon, you've said too much," intoned the Balrog-slayer. He turned imploring eyes to Elril, the elder no longer chuckling over the lurid references to his nephew's sex-play. "Is there somewhere we can detain him? Elrond will have his hide tacked to the barracks wall for this breech of faith."

"To say nothing of what I will do to him should he repeat any of those less than conciliatory remarks regarding our relationship," seethed Erestor, unpleasantly certain which of them, himself or Lindir, was cast as the predator and which the prey in the valet's convoluted thoughts.

"Do not fear," Elril replied. "He won't recall any of this tomorrow and the repercussions of imbibing too much fey wine will punish him beyond anything you might plan. Come along, Faelon, you must be tired after all the day's duties."

"No, I've an assanashun…I mean a ronde…ronder…I'm to meet my b'loved under the elms and we'll be…"
"Yes, yes, pen dithen, we know," soothed Elril. "In fact, your beloved asked me to tell you there's been a change of plans. There's a new meeting place, much nicer and more comfortable for you both than the floor of the forest." Adroitly he corralled the drunken valet.

"Oh yes?" Faelon asked eagerly and permitted the ancient scion of Dior to lead him away. "Tha's good; I don't like the bark and leaves and splinters an' all that. She's very particular, my beloved."

"As any Lady would be," agreed Elril. "Let me guide you to the place for the paths are new here and the night is dark." He caught Erestor's eye. "Accompany me, mellon, for there is that to which we must attend, a necessity for the night's festivities." Erestor frowned but could find no way to back out of the order. He gave Lindir an apologetic kiss and followed.

Glorfindel watched them go, a shake of his head indicating his disbelief over the events as he poured out the rest of his drink on the ground.

"You surprise me, Glorfindel," remarked Lindir. "Has your second life been so sheltered that such things are unknown to you?"

"Nay, but such things are meant to be private and it demeans Lord Elrond to have talk of that kind circulating among the populace," frowned the Balrog-slayer. Then his frown deepened for he could not deny that such talk had been common enough for years and it was Legolas who suffered for it, not Elrond.

"Indeed, it is the young prince who would be mortified for these details to be known abroad," corrected Lindir, emphasising the title though he could see the guilty remorse filling his friend's eyes.

"Aye, you are right in that," another voice rejoined as its owner ambled across the glade. "Legolas is quite shy about the intimate details of his new life," continued Galion, for it was he. He enjoyed a swallow of the fey wine, eyeing Lindir with open appreciation over the rim of his cup. "Where's your Noldorin shadow, mellon?" he asked the singer.

"Erestor is near," warned Lindir, his smile gone and his manner polite but cold. "He is not my shadow but my life-long friend and companion."

"I see him not and no one as alluring as you should be left alone when the music is so tempting and the fire so bright. Come and dance with me, fair Lindir of Imladris," coaxed the red-haired Sindarin seneschal.

"I thank you for the invitation yet I must decline," Lindir said with a courtly bow. "There is an understanding between Erestor and me."

"He does not permit you to dance with anyone save himself?" Galion asked, laughing as he shook his head, circling Lindir the while. "You do not look like the kind of ellon who would permit anyone to be so controlling."

"I am not," averred the minstrel irritably, his ears growing hot. "I simply have no wish to mislead you. I am exclusive once I've made my choice, Galion."

"No signs of it," noted woodland elf, boldly reaching out to feather his fingers through the unbound golden locks. He shivered and a sigh escaped him. "How wrong it is that you never came to Greenwood, you and your fine instrument," he drawled, pointing the cup at the minstrel's harp while his eyes travelled a leisurely trail down the naked chest to the soft filmy folds of silk obscuring the singer's crotch. "How different things might have been."

"Nay, it would be the same," insisted Lindir, shifting to re-establish the distance between them. He shot Glorfindel a warning glare as the Balrog-slayer made to come to his defence. "My heart has been Erestor's for many years now."

"Really? Yon servant to the Lord and Prince attests a different truth." Galion shrugged amiably as Lindir bristled to be so delicately called a liar. "It is no matter to me when or how long, for I judge the Noldo Lord unworthy of the gift. You surely felt need to antagonise him, using me to do so."

"He said 'no', mellon," growled Glorfindel, looming tall beside Thranduil's steward, "and it would be best for you to forget the valet's drunken ramblings."

"Dance with me, Lindir; you owe me that much at least." Galion ignored the legendary hero, stepping around him to confront the minstrel directly.

"So be it," shrugged Lindir, "as long as you are clear it is only this one dance. And do not be surprised if Erestor challenges you, nor shall you attempt to harm him in any way if he does."

"You do care for him," sighed Galion. "Such a pity. We make a fairer couple, you and I, and how glad would Greenwood be to hear your voice beneath her limbs." So saying he led the singer to the bonfire.

When the dance ended another began and in fact there was not really any break between one set and another. When Erestor did not return, Lindir felt it best to remain in the clearing with Galion, for the ellon was rather insistent on getting him to adjourn to a more private local. Glorfindel stayed near, too, and Lindir felt this gave his situation the proper chaperone. With that decided, he relented to the mood of the night and let his spirit soar with the flames, relishing the freedom to dance with his people openly without censure or scorn. Not since his childhood had he been part of a fête like this and it was good to remember the times before his world disintegrated utterly.

Not knowing his beloved singer was so engaged, Erestor permitted himself to be side tracked by one of King Thranduil's aids. Having given his word to do whatever was required to ensure Legolas' bonding ceremony was perfection itself, he could not very well decline the request. The next two hours were spent helping decorate the bonding bower and when at last he returned to the glade Erestor was stunned to find Lindir in Galion's company, the two whirling about the flames in an intricate and rather suggestive set of steps.

They were well-matched, sylvan and Sinda, Lindir's golden hair mingling with the wild torrent of Galion's swirling copper strands. The King's haughty steward gazed upon his partner in open fascination, mesmerised and enthralled, fairly basking in Lindir's light. The minstrel was laughing, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering, obviously enjoying the experience. It was clear he did not know Erestor was there observing, ruling out the possibility of another attempt to incite jealousy, and the seneschal's heart plummeted into darkness.

Not even during Ened Echuil had the minstrel looked so at home, so like the other sylvans he might have come from Greenwood just days ago. It occurred to Erestor that Lindir might wish to rejoin his kin, leaving Imladris, and him, far behind. It occurred to him that Galion might understand Lindir in a way he never could. Sorrow inundated his soul and he felt as if his hoped for mate was already lost to him.

"Be not disturbed for they are only dancing," Glorfindel said quietly.

"Aye, but I have never seen Lindir so vibrant and happy," mourned Erestor. "I have never made him smile and laugh like that."

"It is the wine," offered the Balrog-slayer. "He is responding to the dance and the communion with his people, not to Galion."

"Galion is of his people for surely he has lived among the sylvans longer than Lindir himself."

"He told the steward he is exclusive to you, mellon. Do not give up on him so easily."

"I want him to be at peace, to feel joy again," whispered Erestor. "How can I even guess what inspires those emotions? Look and tell me if you have ever beheld him so light of spirit."

"I admit I cannot," stammered Glorfindel, "but that does not mean he would feel happier without you. Take heart, Erestor, and take courage. Is he worth the effort to woo or no? Maybe your feelings are the ones running shallow. Are you hoping Galion draws him away and spares you the responsibility of parting from him?"

"No!" snapped the seneschal and straightened his spine. "I am neither shallow nor cowardly, Glorfindel, and it wounds me to hear you say so. Galion only lusts after his comely face and erotic allure. I have known Lindir all my life, or nearly so.There are events he has lived through that Mirkwood butler can never hope to comprehend! Now if you will excuse me, I think it is time I learned a few sylvan dances myself." He strode off determinedly through the throng. "How difficult can it be? Just a lot of swaying and stamping to the primitive rhythm of simple pipes and harps."

"Spoken like the relentless, arrogant Noldo you are," encouraged Glorfindel, grinning as the seneschal disappeared in the crowd. Relieved of his duty as unofficial protector of the singer's honour and reputation, he looked about for a partner, eager to try the new steps himself, and at once caught the beguiling gaze of a fair woodland maid. Before he could summon the words to seduce her, she verily pounced upon him, snatched up his hands, and dragged him into the fray. Glorfindel discovered that the Wood Elves did not need fey wine to conjure ecstasy.

"Nín'ódhel? Are you dreaming?" Legolas whispered against his mate's ebony hair, spooning up closer and plastering his body against the warmth of Elrond's back.

"Nay, Aearen, I am awake. I thought you were resting and had no wish to disturb your sleep," smiled Elrond, gently turning over and gathering Legolas close against his heart. After a strong squeeze, which was returned in kind, he lifted the golden head and claimed smiling lips that opened to him eagerly. Assuming Legolas was feeling amorous, as he often did upon returning from reverie and his not quite soft penis suggested, Elrond reached around and pinched the firm, round arse.

"Ai!" Legolas laughed even as he wriggled under the playful assault, relishing the sensation of Elrond's cock starting to fill and push against his. "Valar, are you not sated yet? We've coupled more this one night than in the last two days together."

"That is because you've been spending time with your friend from Greenwood, Faron. I missed you," Elrond shrugged but inspected Legolas closely, for there was a note of weariness in his tone that was not to his liking a bit. Concern at once consumed him for it did not require a healer's knowledge to detect the signs of strain and exhaustion; it was as if Aearen had expended some part of his soul's light. His heart skipped for in that instant he knew it was so and that he had been the recipient, not their nascent child. Now Elrond struggled to clarify his vague recollections of dark dreams and ghosts from his past. Before he could address these mysteries, Legolas hastened to reassure him.

"Do not worry. I am only tired; it is not serious."

"Nay, Legolas, you must tell me exactly what happened. Why are my thoughts so clouded? I have only fractured recollections of arriving in this place and I can tell you had to support me with your soul light." Elrond sat up and at once set about making a more comfortable nest for Legolas, gathering the pillows and blankets and bundling his mate amid them. He caressed the archer's covered belly and then did the same to the golden hair, gathering the errant strands and tucking them behind the ears. "Something happened, did it not?" he asked seriously, heart aching to see Legolas look upon him with such open worry and devotion, inspecting him with the same intensity to ensure the cure had been effective. "Ah, Aearen, beloved, it is I who should be caring for your soul, not the other way round. What peril so endangered me?"

"Aye, there was a little bit of trouble you ran upon, but it is over now and all is well," Legolas hoped to evade this discussion, too exhausted to endure the expected explosion of outrage should he reveal the truth of Rhûn'waew's magic. It had truly been too much; he'd never seen Elrond stripped of all his carefully constructed shields and barriers, cringing and crying and wailing for mercy, and it had hurt him to bear witness to such a horrific unmasking. A slight shiver ran over him and he had to dig deep to summon the wherewithal to conceal his distress and an unexpected surge of anger. What he had done for Elrond, his mate would never acknowledge. Still, he stifled the negative sensation and forced a cheery smile. "You are better, yes?"

"I am better than better; I feel rejuvenated," Elrond confirmed, not pleased to say so and even more unhappy about the fake expression. But how to confront him without seeming to accuse? "It must have been serious to warrant your intervention on so deep a level."

"Aye, I feared for your soul and thought you broken. Needlessly, as it turns out, but to me it seemed so. I acted before making a thorough assessment of the situation, but I can't regret it," this last an absolute contradiction of reality. "Tinu Mín is well, just tired as am I. Besides, you will return the light I gave three-fold if not more." Legolas trailed his fingers across Elrond's shoulder, just brushing through the long black tendrils spilling over it. "Please, will you not let it pass for now? I promise to explain later, after the ceremony, but I haven't the strength to go through it again, Nín'ódhel."

"Ai! You alarm me more, Legolas. Perhaps I should send for Gladhadithen just to make sure all is well."

"Ai Valar, please no!" Legolas groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the cushions. "That will alert my parents and then everyone will find out I'm feeling a little fatigued and before you know it the whole colony will be gathered outside our private hide-away. I do not want that, much as I love my friends. Please, I just want to be alone with you." He flipped to his back and reached out for Elrond, glad when his hand was clasped at once and the mighty Lord gave no resistance to being pulled down into a soft and lingering kiss. Legolas exhaled an amorous moan and shifted his leg so to rub against warm heavy balls pressed against his thigh.

"Ah, Aearen!" whispered Elrond, breaking loose to gaze into clear blue eyes filled with smug delight. He couldn't help grinning back, a light laugh joining the quick thrust of his pelvis that made Legolas growl and buck beneath him, but the hard Noldorin shaft met with but faintly inflated resistance. This was not necessarily alarming, for often he was ready much more quickly than his youthful mate. "You know me so well, do you? So certain I will give in to your tender wiles, hmmm?" Elrond bent for anther taste of the smiling lips and invaded the sylvan's mouth with possessive abandon, showing Legolas he was not so far gone just yet and would be fully capable of commanding the course of their union.

"I know you," Legolas whispered, his face serious and his meagre desire fading as he pulled free from the devouring tongue. "I know you, Elrond Peredhel, and I love you more than life." What prompted him to utter such grave words eluded him and Legolas felt a spike of alarm course through his veins. Yet once given breath, words had a way of getting free of their creator, sometimes revealing more than might be wished.

"More than life," Elrond repeated. It was too true a statement and he felt his chest constrict. There was a level of honesty in the simple phrase the two rarely visited, for it evoked the early days when Legolas had been all too ready to forsake life and but for that capacity to love would have succeeded. Elrond sighed and smiled into the suddenly vulnerable visage peering up at him, giving the warm skin beneath his hands a long, slow caress.

"Be at peace," he pleaded softly, stroking the silken hair and traipsing the tips of his fingers against the stubborn chin. "I want no strife to ever touch you again; not even mild annoyance can I bear to see you suffer. Tell me that I can drive away that sorrow always lurking just underneath your smile, Aearen. Say that I can know you in the same way and that you will experience it just as I feel the strength of your devotion. What you have done for me, this I want, nay, I need to do for you also."

"It is already accomplished," Legolas smiled, the expression admitting the lie as he could not, for these were almost but not quite the words he'd hoped to hear. "I am content with what your soul tells me beneath and between the sounds with which your voice adorns the answer."

Elrond's brows went up, for here was another strange construction of thought of the kind particular to Legolas and thus wholly indecipherable. Yet there was more than weariness, more than fatigue in his mate's aura. That smile revealed a wound as deep as any plaguing Legolas since their earliest days together. "Then what is it?" he asked, suddenly agitated again for there truly was a place within his beloved he could not seem to touch. "Do not hold back, Legolas, I beg you." He kissed him again, first the mouth and then along the jaw and on down the slender neck to the collar bone. He tasted heat where he'd left a deep red passion mark sometime in the night and swabbed the area with his tongue.

"Ai, Nín'ódhel, the things you do to me," Legolas whimpered and buried his hands in the inky mane cascading all around him, hunting for an ear to tease, hoping to push the level of desire higher and end this conversation, but this time Elrond drew back in spite of the trembling pleasure the contact sent racing through every nerve.

"No. Don't do that, Legolas, please. There is something you long to say or something you need me to say. No games now, no games. I want to say it, whatever it is. I want to be it, whatever you need. Can't you see? I don't know what it is, though, and I think I'll go mad if I disappoint you or hurt you or…"

"Nay, beloved, enough," soothed Legolas, a soft sigh leaving him as he drew Elrond tight against his body. "Do not be displeased with me. I know not whence this sensation comes, either. Just need you, can't explain more." He dabbed his tongue against the pulsing artery in Elrond's neck and nipped it lightly. There were things he just could not say and yet he felt that if something did not distract him, it would all spill out: despair and shame, grief and guilt, anger and anguish.

Again the Elven Lord resisted his seduction and carefully rolled them both over sideways. Soon Legolas was staring into the vibrant grey eyes, so ancient and wise, the first feature he was able to identify as solely his mate's, and at once felt fear grab at his gut. He could never speak the thought that entered his mind next or reveal the images usurping his attention, images of the Twins, their grey eyes so much the same as their father's, so much like one another, and yet completely different and unique.

Such eyes, to have envisioned the little house by the brook.

Legolas dropped his gaze from Elrond's face, colour rising to his cheeks as his heart rate doubled. If Elrond should come to understand his sons now shared this private place between them, rejection and abandonment must result.

"Aearen," Elrond called quietly, disturbed and rather hurt to feel Legolas draw back his spirit in what was undeniably dread. Yet he paused, an inkling of an idea coalescing, a fleeting glimpse that might be someone's abode in Lorien, perhaps, yet what import this held, passing through his beloved's heart just then, eluded him. After it dissipated, there gathered in his mind certainty of the cause of the fright and the withdrawal. It could only be Legolas' other mates and realising this Elrond was at once jealous and saddened. "It is as I feared from the beginning," he sighed, hugging Legolas close. "You prefer them now."

"What? Nay!" Legolas squirmed out of the tight embrace and sat up, face still crimson but eyes bright with indignation and fierce denial, but found he could not pretend. "I do not. They can never be for me what you are, Elrond," he said and to his ears the words sounded as if it was his own heart that needed convincing.

"And what is that? What am I to you?"

"Ai Valar, you are my very soul, beloved."

Silence followed this for somehow it wasn't enough and Elrond waited for more. Legolas dropped his eyes again, turning half away, drawing a deep breath before trying to continue. He could not ignore the small pinprick of resentment that needled at his soul. He was always protecting Nín'ódhel's feelings, it seemed, trying to think ahead and make sure of what he said, that everything he did was pleasing and affirmed the mighty Lord's exalted view of himself. And no matter the effort expended, ultimately he remained an afterthought in Elrond's heart.

"I don't understand," he admitted morosely, emotions too jumbled to master his tongue. "They were not here in the beginning when I was beyond despair. They know nothing about the agony I endured, the fear and the longing I felt. I reached out and you were there, only you, Nín'ódhel. You loved me; I loved you back, but you hurt me anyway. Why?"

"Nay! It was not meant to be that way; I did not know!" Elrond cried out in alarm and sat up, too, scooting closer to take hold of Legolas, fearful he might bolt from the pavilion. "I want never to cause you hurt again, Aearen, please believe me," and it was in speaking thus that Elrond understood that somehow he had done so though he could not fathom when or how, whether by word, deed, or lack of same. Tears were trailing down Aearen's lowered face and the Elf Lord felt panic rising. "Please don't despair. Tell me what I have done that I may amend it." He could not know the ugly scenes Legolas had glimpsed through the Winter Queen's soul-delving, for Legolas himself had spent great energy to shield him from remembering any part of it.

So what Legolas had meant as a means of healing and comfort turned instead to bitterness. He was unable to stop the inundating sorrow now and the words poured out in a torrent of confused anguish. He wrapped his arms around his body and sealed shut his eyes, too afraid to see Elrond's as he spoke.

"The things I need, Tinu Mín and I, they come not from you. Our safe talan in the grotto, the furnishings for it, little clothes for our babe to keep warm, provisions, those things I must have in the last days and the days following the birth," he gulped a huge and noisy lungful of air, "and now Aras takes the part abandoned by your sons, defaming me and our child and nothing is done!"

"Ai Elbereth." Elrond could but hold tight as the storm raged through his beloved Wood Elf, knowing full well that any excuse or apology just now would push bewildered sadness into enraged fury which would fuel the desire to flee. "I love you, Legolas, whatever my failings; I love you." Nothing more could he do but repeat this, quietly, firmly, devoutly, contritely as the litany of affliction went on.

"Then they came back and turned it all around and…"

"Who, my sons?"

A quick nod in assent punctuated another rending sob. "…and instead of hating me, they showed caring compassion and genuine desire. They built me a house, a perfect house with rooms for our child there and even whimsical playthings to amuse him and…"

"They built…So you mean they are here now?" Another quick head bob and a terrified glance made Elrond feel sick and still the raving continued.

"They seem to know me; how is this possible? They do things my heart has longed for before I even understand it within myself, Elrond, while you, who hold my very heart and soul, seem unable to divine those same needs. I love you and only you…"

"I know it, Aearen, I know it; hear me?" Elrond shook him gently and caught another swift flash of frantic blue the very colour of apprehension and doom.

"…but I find them…I find…they accept me. And I need that," he fairly bellowed, crumpling up save for Elrond's steady grip upon his arms, ashamed to have to admit these things. "Need that from you, not them, but whatever I am, they no longer find me abhorrent and…and…I am sorry, Nín'ódhel," Legolas sobbed and let himself be drawn tight against the comfort of his mate's sturdy chest, buried his running nose against the warm skin and its distinct scent. "Can't hold this secret within me anymore. Please, do not hate me for needing them."

"Legolas, Legolas, nay, beloved, nay," Elrond cried out softly, fearful to give the words too much volume in case Legolas would mistake the tone for anger or censure. The Elven Lord surprised himself by realising he was not angry, not even minimally. He could only feel abiding love and great respect, for what came most to his mind was the courage required to reveal all this, the love and faith Legolas had to hang onto so desperately to make it possible. "It is all right, beloved. I will never hate you, never." He began slowly rocking and without thinking hummed the tune that had eased Aearen's heart in the past, in the early days when there was barely any of him left to even hear it. Carefully he caressed the quaking form, smoothing his palm down the drooping head, along the stooped shoulders, and over the slumped back.

"Be at peace; be at peace," he whispered. "I love you, Legolas. Without you, before you, everything about me has been false and superficial. Only in giving my soul to you has it found anything noble and good to do, anyone worthy to make it shine forth as Eru surely meant it." He felt Legolas stir and shift, winding arms about his neck and threading fingers within his hair.

"How can it be?"

Legolas' voice was so faint and small Elrond almost didn't understand the words. He shook his head and pressed a kiss upon the tangled golden strands. "I know not why; it would have been fitting for the Valar to give you to my sons alone, for all you speak of them is true. Never were they truly consumed by darkness, merely blinded for a time. Yet the fate you have drawn brought you instead to me and to them. We, the Twins and I, have not managed this well. I wonder, sometimes, if there was something more in that poison, some evil that infected us all, for a time."

Now at last Legolas turned his tear-smeared face to see Elrond, eyes wide with surprise and wet with sorrow but no longer filled with terror and guilt. "I thought this, also," he said, blinking to clear his vision and study the expressive countenance regarding him so serenely. "You are not disgusted with me?"

"No," Elrond shook his head solemnly as he answered, no mirth in his voice, no ingratiating smile plastered on his lips. This was too real, too harrowing, what Aearen had done, and he would neither diminish it with pretty words nor squander it by glossing over the revelations. Something tickled the back of his brain, a faint but insistent sense of familiarity as though in someway he had been prepared for this moment and understood instinctively how to proceed. He inhaled and bent to bestow another chaste kiss, this one on Legolas' brow. "I will remove that word from association with my dealings toward you, Legolas. I know it will take time, but you have my promise, my oath, my vow before Manwë that it shall be accomplished ere our babe is born."

"Elrond," Legolas began but could not find any more words for his heart was emptied out, drained of either protests or praises. He drew a deep and shuddering breath and simply burrowed back into the strength and comfort that had sustained him for the last ten years.

"I know not how to tell you, Legolas," Elrond mused, stroking the flaxen strands and gathering the exhausted elf close. "There is a purpose for me now, through you and our child, and one with which I was long ago entrusted, long before ever you were conceived. I will fulfil it, properly and justly and wisely, but only because you entered my life and claimed my heart.

"Aye, though it seems to all that I was the one who took possession of you, yet we know, you and I and my sons, too, that I was the one whose spirit was captured." Then he did smile a little and gave his mate a gentle squeeze. "Glad I am for it, though I resisted so strongly, and glad I am for this terrible thing we endured, you and I, just this very night gone past. Nay, hush," he whispered, another kiss against the golden crown and another soothing stroke working its way down the naked back.

"I will not ask," he continued, "and you need not keep it secret a moment longer than you are able. When you are ready I will listen; I already know the outcome and while I cannot pretend to be easy about the sacrifice you made for me, yet I do believe it was necessary. Your soul, riven and reduced though it may be, is so much cleaner and purer than mine, Aearen, and I needed its light dearly, so dearly."

He did not speak for a long time after that, only held Legolas close and softly sang the old lullaby, breaking the song only to settle tender kisses here and there where he could reach the bare body all curled up in his lap. In time, he felt Legolas drop into light reverie and only then did he invoke the might of Vilya to send him deeper where healing could take root and spread its tendrils throughout the drained sylvan's feä.

Through all this Elrond sat and thought on all Legolas had revealed, realising how much of it was between the words and under them, and made in his heart and mind a list for himself. On it were all the things he had neglected to do for his mate and Elrond found courage not to make excuses and justify his lack of action by invoking ignorance of sylvan customs. It was a freeing and empowering action and he felt, for the first time in a very long time, good inside himself and at peace with what he must do. He finished the song and spoke to Legolas, knowing his spirit would hear him and hold the knowledge close.

"I want you to remain sleeping though I must leave you for a short time. I will not go until one of your people is here to watch over you; Faelon will find your Ada or perhaps Lindir to come. I will seek out my sons and bring them hither, Legolas, and we will settle this dilemma as best suits you. That will be our only concern, especially mine. There will be no more secrets and no more cause for you to hide your needs from me or from them.

"And I would see this house they have made for our family. I find that there is much I could learn from observing their behaviour. The wounds they dealt you may have been more public than those that arose from me, but they are lesser hurts, shallower and easier to heal, for they never held your heart as I have and you did not pour out your love upon them as you did for me.

"I tell you this that you may understand why it is easier now to forgive them and feel for them a sense of respect and appreciation. This is also why it is easier for them to throw off their pride and delve whole-heartedly into remitting those errors. I want you to understand it has nothing to do with a lessening of what you feel for me or emergence of anything unclean or improper on your part or theirs. It is simply the way of things, Legolas, nothing else, and as Eru has made it so we cannot change it or undo it, nor should we wish to.

"We will accept it, Aearen, all of us. Not with shame and suspicion, not with jealousy and resentment, but with joy and gratitude." He felt Legolas shift and used the moment to lay him gently down, covering him in the abundant blankets and bolstering him with the feather pillows. Low-lidded eyes glanced into his and he knew Aearen was listening, deep in the healing trance, and smiled, his heart and his face filled with love and admiration. "Aye, you did hear rightly. We will learn how to treasure this gift and treat it with gladness. You are the gift, Legolas, Aearen, beloved Wood Elf, my sylvan prince, our devoted mate."

He kissed the lax lips and just before he pulled back Elrond was astounded to feel the voiceless sylvan call buffeting against his heart. For the first time, he understood how important the call and response was for Legolas, realising it arose more from the need to know their souls remained entwined rather than a means of merely signalling his mate. Quickly he bent close to an ear and offered reassurance. "Fear not; I hear you; I know where you are; I cannot help but do so for you reside here within my own essence. I will not abandon you, Legolas, nor send you from me. Never. We are bound together, you and I, and shall not be parted unless you wish it."

Elrond moved carefully from the pallet and collected his clothes, finding a set of the hunting attire he preferred folded neatly on a small table. His elegant robes hung against the wall but he ignored them and moved to the curtained doorway. Before he lifted it aside, he knew Elril would be close at hand. The ancient elf looked up at once and rose with a smile form his place by the fire, barely a metre distant. Where once the Elven Lord would have been chagrined to think his confrontation with Aearen had been overheard, now he was pleased to have a witness, someone to validate the conviction of his heart. Dior's heir placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder as he passed within, shining eyes proclaiming his approval better than any words, and Elrond set about his task with firm resolve.

TBC

~ ~ Glossary ~ ~

Trévreithad

Erthad Veren: Joyous Union

Esgal Orthant: Raised Veil

Henen Vell: My Dear Child

Sell-en-Iellen: daughter of my daughter

Elei Velthin: Golden Dreams

Ôlpathu: Dream place

faer'lîr: soul-song

Pathrol na Gail: Filling with Light - Enlightenment

Nín'ódhel brui: My noisy deep elf

Nae Alae: Alas, behold (oh dear)

Tinu Mín: our little star

NOTE:
"I have not forgotten that we left this story on the verge of finally uniting our two heroes in a more 'legal' sense. We have some fun shenanigans courtesy of the Wood Elves, who cannot quite contain their desire to teach Elrond his place and punish him a bit for his treatment of their beloved prince. We have a talan to build in Lanthir Fân, we need to get Aras out of Imladris, and then we need to go ahead and move ahead quite a bit."

Remember when this note appeared? How about a year ago or more. Things got in between me and the story and I still have not sanctified their union or let the Wood Elves have much fun yet. I got to thinking about all the lies between Legolas and Elrond, the little lies they tell each other and themselves to keep things calm and prevent having to confront the really raw reality they share. With all Legolas has gone through, I just couldn't see him able to maintain the secrecy and the martyrdom. He has real needs, quite serious ones, and all Elrond's fancy verbal two-stepping will not be enough to support him in the days to come. I decided that, no matter how vehemently he has denied it to himself, Legolas really must feel some anger about what has been done to him, not just by fate but by Elrond personally. And so I found there was a breaking point, though when I wrote the chapter I had not consciously envisioned it that way.

This all hearkens back to the chapter where Rhûn'waew uses magic and drugs to force Elrond to face his own demons and admit to himself and to them that he is not the perfect elf he wants everyone to think he is. Legolas went to him, against his parents' instructions, and intervened. If this chapter does not make it plain, he used his own very limited soul light to build a barrier between Elrond's memories and his consciousness. Afterward, realising how drained he is, Legolas begins to resent it, feeling it will never even be known much less appreciated, like so many of his tender attentions to Elrond. And the rest happens because he is really too depleted to hold back any longer.

Even then, Legolas feels guilty and ashamed and believes he has forfeited his heart's desire and sinks into despair. But his Nana was there first and left Elrond with some direct instructions imbedded in his soul. He is acting on them, but to be completely honest it is not the Winter Queen's magic making it possible, but Legolas' love and the genuine outpouring of his soul's energy into the Elven Lord. This moment will be Elrond's breakthrough, though he has claimed to have experienced this already. We all know that's one of the lies he's been telling himself and he did not truly begin to change until Legolas left him fading and went to the Twins.

Well, let me know what you think of it. Hope it is neither too dark nor too sappy, and that Faelon's loose lips were amusing. Guess that's it for now. Thanks to everyone reading and to all you folks who send me such kind feedback, thoughtful well-wishes, and unending encouragement. I am indebted to you and deeply, deeply grateful. :)
© 11/12/2009 Ellen Robey

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.

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Aearlinn

Aearlinn - Trévreithad ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We Return to the Wood Elves' Compound ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ Glossary ~ ~

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.

Aearlinn - Trévreithad

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We Return to the Wood Elves' Compound ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~