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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26421 -:- 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.

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Chapter XXXV

Laer T.A. 2509

With just a day's ride between them and Rivendell, the party of Mirkwood Elves decided to encamp for the night in one of the sparse glades that dotted the plains of Eriador. They had been riding for three days with little more than the briefest breaks along the way. Their steeds though sturdy and swift could go no further without some rest. It was a necessary stop and only for the night but to Legolas it seemed an eternity.

Nimaras and Lalorn observed him as he settled before the campfire and stared into the blaze unseeingly, his long white knife in hand. Every now and then he would look to the west, in the general direction of the valley realm, and his brow would crease with worry. Then he would restlessly wiggle the knife or tap its sheathed tip against his lips. The significance of the weapon was not lost on them for they knew it had been gifted upon the archer by his mate when he was but a child and recently betrothed to Elrond's younger son. After several minutes of watching his fitful fidgeting, his elder brothers entrusted the currying of their horses to their squires and went to join him before the fire.

They dropped down on either side of him and Lalorn handed him a leather flask of ale. Flashing his brother a smile of thanks, Legolas took a few hefty swigs. Nimaras reached up to rub one tense shoulder.

“Legolas, you are working yourself into a state,” the bronze-haired prince murmured. “You will be of no use to Elrohir should we reach Imladris with you as distressed as he undoubtedly is.”

Legolas glanced at Nimaras then sighed and nodded. “Point taken, muindor”--brother--he said. “Yet I cannot help but fret over what I sense of his feelings. Or what he permits me to sense,” he added in a hushed voice.

His brothers stared at him in surprise. “What he permits you?” Lalorn echoed. “Do you mean he is purposely restricting your bond?”

Legolas frowned. “I do not know if he is purposely doing so,” he admitted. “But, yea, he is restricting it.”

Nimaras blew out his breath. “That is troubling. There is obviously more to his pain than grief over Lady Celebrían's ordeal.”

Legolas nodded. “That is what worries me,” he said. “Elrohir has never hidden anything from me. Yet now… We must reach Imladris soonest.”

“Patience, brother. Another day or so and you will be with your Elf-knight,” Nimaras soothed. “Now sleep. I wager you will have need of all your strength for whatever awaits us.”

Legolas hesitated then finally acquiesced. Lying between his brothers, he allowed himself to surrender to his weariness and soon sank into slumber. Nimaras and Lalorn regarded him with concern.

“I pray she will live,” Nimaras whispered.

“Galvreth did,” Lalorn reasoned. “Surely, with Lord Elrond's skill, she will as well.”

Nimaras shook his head. “Only if her strength of will is as strong as his. We must accept that our brother survived against all odds. Most Elves cannot.” He shivered. “Have not…”

He averted his eyes and stared at the fire. Lalorn did not persist in questioning him, aware that his once exiled brother had seen in his travels with the Wandering Companies what very few Elves of Mirkwood had. And of what he had seen, there was much that had been unspeakable though more that was wondrous to a Wood-elf. But the event that had rocked Imladris at summer's onset was worse than anything he had borne witness to during his enforced journeying, recalling to everyone's minds Galvreth and Legolas' harrowing trial centuries past. For kin once again had been brutalized beyond bearing.

Their awareness of some crisis abroad had started with the odd disquiet that had troubled Legolas for many days midway through the third week of summer. The archer had not been able to pinpoint the cause of his unease save that it did not stem from any problem of his own. But about a sennight after the start of his forebodings, he was overcome by a wrenching cry that resounded through his consciousness and sent his spirit recoiling in fear and confusion. He knew then whence his anxiety had come.

He and Elrohir had been parted by duty once more. For the past two years, the twins had sojourned in the south, acting as their father's eyes and ears in Gondor and its provinces. Their return had been delayed by the advent of the Balchoth, a warrior-folk that dwelt in Rhovanion between Mirkwood and the River Running. Hostile to the south-kingdom and its allies, these Men were held in Dol Guldur's thrall and they harried and pillaged their way to the very banks of Anduin. Here the Steward Cirion had held the line against them but only barely. Elrond's sons had joined the ranks of Gondor's soldiers, seeking to learn all they could about the new enemy though as always they did so without any of their comrades realizing who they were. Thus, it was only in the spring of the present year that they finally left Gondor and made their way home.

As soon as word of their arrival reached Mirkwood, Galvreth had set forth to join Elladan. But Legolas had been with a trade delegation sent to neighboring Esgaroth and only when he arrived a fortnight later did he discover that his mate was returned home. He would have followed Galvreth at once but a sudden increase in incursions by Orcs and Mannish brigands within the forest delayed him yet again and spring passed into summer before he could turn his thoughts to joining his Imladrin spouse.

It was then when his forebodings had begun. And when he heard Elrohir's anguished cry in his mind, he knew that something was very wrong indeed. Great sorrow flooded his senses for most of that day filling him with grief though he knew not what affected him so. Only to recede by evening, as if the bridge that had permitted its passage to him had been partially blocked. That had alarmed Legolas much more than the initial onslaught of emotions. It was impossible to completely close off the binding-channel though if one was sufficiently gifted one could restrict what flowed through it. Why would Elrohir do so unless some great evil had befallen him or his family and he was now attempting to protect his mate from being ensnared as well.

Had his father not stayed him, the archer would have ridden to Rivendell forthwith, on his own if need be. But Thranduil reasoned with him, pointing out that the times were such that no Elf should venture into the open alone and unready for peril. He bade his son take with him a goodly number of warriors as well as prepare for a lengthy stay in Imladris. Accepting the wisdom of his sire's counsel, Legolas obeyed. But on the morning of his proposed departure, a message arrived from Rivendell, borne by one of Elrond's fleet hawks.

Thranduil had blanched upon reading the letter. Unable to speak, he handed the scroll to Aelluin and it fell to the Crown Prince to read its contents out loud to his brothers and Gilthalion. None would forget the horror of that hour as they tried to absorb the breadth of the transgression that had marred Rivendell's peace.

Journeying to her parents' realm of the Golden Wood after so many years of absence, the Lady of Rivendell and her escort had been waylaid while crossing the Redhorn Pass on Caradhras. The Orcs had scattered the Elves of her retinue, overwhelming them with their sheer numbers. Amidst the confusion, they had laid their beastly hands on Celebrían and borne her away. All grievously wounded, the surviving Elves had hastened back as swiftly as they could to sound the alarm.

As fate would have it, the brethren Elladan and Elrohir had been out hunting. It was they the warriors came upon when they traversed the plains of Eriador. The twins had at once ridden to rescue their mother. They had succeeded in their quest and carried her back to safety. But by then Celebrían had been viciously tortured for nigh a week and dealt a debilitating poisoned wound besides. Her injuries had taken all of Elrond's skill to heal. The soundness of her mind was another matter however for she had endured the same cruelty Galvreth had known - violation of the body and spirit. Elrond's anguish came across in his letter for all the succinctness of his wording. He feared for his wife's life. He feared for her reason.

Legolas wasted no more time save to await Nimaras and Lalorn who insisted on accompanying him now that they knew what evil was afoot. Gilthalion also doubled the number of soldiers who would escort the princes and ensured they were armed to the teeth.

That proved a boon to the party. A band of Orcs attempted an ambush but were handily subdued by the Mirkwood Elves. And just for good measure, Nimaras had their carcasses mounted on stakes in the very middle of the pass and adorned them with tokens that warned of the Wood-elves' wrath and their readiness to deal harshly with any who thought to do them harm. They would pass this way once more on the homeward trek and it would do no harm to instill fear in their bestial foes. They descended the mountain without further incident and once they hit the plains, they knew a modicum of relief. Seldom did the Orcs engage well-armed travellers here in the open where they could not retreat so easily into their dark holes.

Reluctant to envision once more the torment Elrond's lady must have undergone, Nimaras and Lalorn spoke no further of the matter. Instead they moved closer together that Legolas should know security in the snug cocoon of their sheltering bodies and hopefully pass the night in untroubled sleep.

Their arrival in Rivendell did not go unmarked. Glorfindel himself rode forth to meet them and escort them to the Last Homely House. Erestor gave the princes a right welcome in the courtyard and Lindir arranged for their belongings to be brought to their respective quarters. The brothers glanced at each other in gathering anxiety. They had not expected any of the Peredhil to greet them but for Galvreth to fail to make an appearance spoke of dire circumstances indeed. Legolas grew more agitated when he did not find Elrohir in their suite. Seeking Lindir, he requested that he and his brothers be conducted immediately to Lady Celebrían's sickroom.

She lay in the healing ward that overlooked the gardens. The room was awash in sunlight and all the windows were open to the summer breeze that wafted across the lawn outside. The princes quietly stepped into the chamber, at once taking note of Arwen who lay on a divan set by her mother's bed. The Elf-maid slept in obvious exhaustion, her beauteous face bearing the marks of sorrow and strain. But even in repose, she kept guard over her mother's slumber, clasping Celebrían's frail hand in hers.

Their eyes drifted to Celebrían. Legolas could not stifle his gasp of horror when he beheld his law-mother's state. He blinked away tears of outrage. Even Galvreth's injuries had not been this excessive. The Orcs had repeatedly pressed a brand into her skin - burns marred what he could see of her flesh, even unto her formerly flawless face. They had torn her lush silver locks from her scalp and only a few forlorn strands of hair remained amidst the patchwork of scars that encrusted her shorn head. A glance at her splinted hands told the princes that her fingers had been broken. The cracked nails bespoke her desperate scrabble at the hard ground under her as her torment progressed. Legolas did not dare imagine the damage done to her lower body. If it was anything like what his brother had endured… A wave of nausea near rendered him faint and he was grateful when Lalorn curled a steadying arm around his shoulder.

After the initial shock, the brethren looked around for the other members of the family. Nimaras espied a door by the far wall. He headed for it and the others followed. It led to what turned out to be a central chamber that connected several wards. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets of everything the healers overseeing said wards would need. In the center was a large round table and here were gathered the Elves the princes sought.

Galvreth was pounding herbs with a pestle in a heavy mortar. Beside him, Elladan measured out quantities of various medicinal liquids. These he added to the herbs and Galvreth quickly reduced the mixture to a loose paste. Once it had reached the desired consistency, Elladan took the mixture and passed it over to his father. Elrond poured it into a tall glass vessel set over an oil lamp and this he heated until a clear, green-tinted liquid separated from the paste. Satisfied, Elrond carefully poured the distilled medicament through a filter into a half-filled phial. It emitted a pungent but surprisingly refreshing scent.

It was telling of the three Elves' grim preoccupation with their chores that none noticed the arrival of the princes until Nimaras cleared his throat in a bid to catch their attention. Galvreth softly exclaimed his surprise before hastening to greet them, catching each in a hug. Elladan was not long in following. The princes did not permit Elrond to come to them but went to him instead to express their sympathy and concern. But Elrohir was nowhere in sight. Legolas anxiously inquired as to his whereabouts.

“Was he not in your apartment?” Elrond inquired with a frown.

“Nay. Nor did our chamber show recent signs of his presence. Ah, where has he taken himself?”

“To the orangery.”

They turned to find Arwen standing in the doorway. Legolas went to her and took her into his arms. She held onto him for a long while, her slender figure trembling. He felt the warmth of tears on his shoulder and he stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort to one he deemed a much beloved sister. At length, she lifted her head and thanked him for his care.

“Does Elrohir always go there?” Legolas asked, tenderly tucking a dark strand behind Arwen's ear.

She nodded after glancing at Elladan for confirmation. “He spends more time there than in your rooms,” she said. “Why, we do not know. Unless he has told you, Elladan…?”

The older twin shook his head. “He has kept to himself these many days,” he said. “I pray you will be able to get him to open up, gwanur. Truly, I worry about him; he has been alarmingly reticent since we brought Nana back from the mountains. Even with me.”

Legolas took his leave of them at once and hurried to the orangery. Wandering through the building, he finally caught sight of his quarry in the farthest corner of the great space. There was a comfortable daybed beneath a bower of exotic blooms and vines. Celebrían spent many a quiet hour in this spot after a busy day's toils, reading or embroidering, indulging in the sight and scents of the fruits and flowers she had tended for many years. Now it was her son who had taken shelter here.

Legolas knelt before the daybed and gazed at his sleeping spouse. Exhaustion marked Elrohir's face and form as it had Arwen's and it was readily apparent that his slumber was one he had put off for far too long. Legolas did not awaken him but instead slid in beside him and wove his arms around him. Elrohir intuitively turned into his embrace and Legolas held him close, relishing his long-missed scent.

The archer did not sleep but watched over his mate until the latter began to stir. Legolas pressed gentle kisses to his mouth until Elrohir moaned and came fully awake. Still dazed by sleep, he stared at Legolas uncomprehendingly for several moments. The hungry seal of lips against his quickly wiped away his confusion and, with a sigh, he pulled his woodland spouse flush against him.

A spate of kisses later, they lay in companionable silence, facing each other in a loose but warm embrace. Legolas caressed his Elf-knight's face, wondering at the shadow in Elrohir's eyes and worrying about it.

He broke the silence first. “How I loath being apart from you,” he whispered.

“As do I,” Elrohir murmured, turning his face into Legolas' hand to kiss his fingers and palm.

Legolas drew a steadying breath, mindful of the utter unsuitability of the current circumstances for the sudden lust that inflamed him. He did not chide himself for feeling thusly. Each and every parting between them, however brief, always stoked his desire for his mate beyond its usual measure. But he was acutely aware that Elrohir's present need was for tenderness and comfort. Legolas determinedly suppressed the burgeoning heat in his loins and applied himself to providing Elrohir with the succor he craved.

**********

He allowed a week to pass. A week wherein he patiently endured his mate's inexplicable uncommunicativeness with him. Oh, gentle touches and soothing words there were aplenty between them. But nothing of more depth or passion. The Elf-knight's radiance was dimmed, his smiles scant and wan. Yet no enlightening explanations leavened the archer's anxiety. And Elrohir seemed intent on nipping any potential torrid encounters in the bud. This last was particularly frustrating for Legolas, primed as he was by their lengthy separation and the uncertainty of the past weeks for the release only bodily intimacy could achieve. Add to these the Elf-knight's attitude of desolation and a simmering, barely suppressed anger directed at the Valar only knew who and Legolas felt himself at his wits' end.

He had thought at first that Elrohir's silent fury was for the abominations that had so horrifically damaged his mother's body and possibly her sanity. But after many an attempt to get the younger twin to confide in him, Legolas realized that not all of Elrohir's anger was reserved for the Orcs. And when it became apparent that the warrior would not be forthcoming about whatever it was that haunted him, Legolas decided enough was enough and sought elucidation from his mate's brother.

“Why is it that you are not as distressed as he?” Legolas anxiously queried the older twin as he restlessly paced back and forth in Elladan and Galvreth's sitting room. “What troubles him so? Why does he shut me out?”

Elladan frowned. “Shut you out?”

Legolas huffed an irate exhalation. “He has put up a wall and I cannot get past it. Valar, he will not even couple with me!” The archer sank down into a chair opposite the divan the couple occupied and folded his arms in frustration. “He looks at me as if he were some dastardly creature who merits no loving. Yet he does not explain what it is he had done that he believes would render him unworthy in my eyes!”

He was quick to note the startled comprehension on Elladan and Galvreth's faces on the heels of their initial surprise.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What do you know?”

Speaking as if to himself, Elladan said: “'Tis difficult to believe that he would take the blame upon himself. And yet…” He shook his head and glanced at Legolas who looked fit to explode in his impatience. “Before Naneth journeyed to Lórien, she asked Elrohir if the Redhorn Pass was safe. Elrohir had returned from patrolling that region of the mountains just a few weeks earlier. He told her that he believed it to be quite safe though he did counsel that any who travelled over the mountains should still bring a well-armed escort along.”

Legolas stared at him in dawning dismay. Suddenly his beloved's strange behavior made sense.

Though few outside of Rivendell knew it, the twins had always been aware of their destined roles in their valley realm and been trained accordingly as they matured. Elladan as first-born however minute the difference in time between his and Elrohir's births, would one day don Elrond's mantle of rulership over Imladris. Elrohir, valiant and relentlessly loyal, would be his brother's chief counselor and captain of the Imladrin forces when Glorfindel sailed over sea with Elrond. In their earlier years, this distinction in their roles had not been enforced for Elrond believed that they would be best served to learn all they could of lordship, both political and military. But recently, the brethren had begun to devote themselves to their assigned designations. Thus, Elladan had taken more of Elrond's responsibilities upon himself and Elrohir now led as many patrols and sorties as Glorfindel did. And with the younger twin's greater knowledge of the lands east and south of the Misty Mountains, it was not surprising that it had fallen to him to assess or ensure the security of the mountain passes.

Legolas caught his breath in empathetic horror. Elrohir had assessed the safety of the Redhorn Pass based on his own very recent trek through the area. Trusting in her son's perspicacity, Celebrían had chosen to use the pass on her journey to Lothlórien. Who would have thought that the Orcs would have enough brains among them not to show themselves to Elrohir's superiorly armed Elven troop? Or that they would be patient enough to await a smaller, less guarded company before launching an ambush? For the retinue that had escorted Celebrían had neither been as large nor as well armed as Elrohir had recommended. Perhaps lulled by his assurance that the Redhorn Pass was safe, both Elrond and Glorfindel had thought the guard provided sufficient. Alas, that had proved a terrible mistake. And the Orcs' newfound stealth reaped them the unlooked for prize that was Elrond's lady wife.

“He holds himself culpable for your mother's abduction,” he whispered. Unable to stop himself, he glowered at Elladan. “Did you not realize this?” he asked a little accusingly.

Elladan grimaced and shook his head. “He spoke of it when we brought her home,” he admitted. “But Father made it clear that he was not to blame as did Glorfindel and I. When he ceased to broach the matter, I thought he had discarded the notion. And verily, I have not fully attended our bond these past many weeks. My concern has been primarily for Naneth.” Elladan laid a remorseful gaze on his now seething law-brother. “Ah, forgive me, I failed to see his pain.”

“Nay, do not be as he and take blame upon yourself as well,” Galvreth gently chided. He glared warningly at Legolas. “You have been overwrought and so has Elrohir. Neither of you have been much aware of each other's feelings.”

“But Elladan had you to turn to, brother,” Legolas said in a low voice, not quite repentant. “Elrohir had no one. At least, no one who knew what he harbored within. Ah, my poor Elf-knight - how can I help him?”

“Take him away from here, Legolas,” Elladan suggested. “Mayhap if he does not constantly see Mother he will not feel quite so oppressed by guilt. And hopefully he will open up to you and you may then show him that he is not to blame in any way.”

Legolas thought about it then nodded. “I will bring him to our cabin,” he decided. “Will you explain our absence to Lord Elrond? I would not have him think that we have forsaken you in this time of need.”

“I will,” Elladan assured him. “And do not worry that Father will think ill of you. He would urge the same course upon you did he know of Elrohir's straits.”

Legolas paused then bit his lip. “I am sorry, Elladan,” he finally said. “I should not have assailed you when you have suffered much as well.”

“There is no need to apologize for acting out of love for my brother,” Elladan replied. “'Tis but natural for you to protect him as much as you can. But if you would make amends, take care of him for me and love him well. I would have him back in haler spirits.”

**********

Elven prince and Elf-knight rode north the following morn with enough supplies for a fortnight. Legolas felt a keen sense of homecoming when they came to the cabin. Here had they spent some of their most joyous times together. Here was the site of their reconciliation and binding-night, the haven where they could couple as sweetly or as raucously as they desired. The archer had long ago decided that should fate take them to some other land, he would build a cabin just like this one and they would call it home.

He hoped that here in their refuge, Elrohir would find the means to set aside the grief that beset him. And at first it seemed his plan would succeed. For Elrohir's spirits appeared to lighten as they readied the cabin for occupancy. As the day proceeded, the Elf-knight's smile was more and more in evidence, its radiance still muted but finally kindling nonetheless.

But to his consternation, Elrohir shied from his overtures that evening, pleading weariness from the day's exertions to explain his lack of interest in more sensual pursuits. Legolas suspected however that it was not disinterest that kept Elrohir from mating with him but rather a feeling of unworthiness of the archer's affection. That would be in keeping with his belief that he had failed in his duty to keep the folk under his care safe and therefore did not merit his peers' acclaim, his family's trust or even his own spouse's love.

Legolas let him be that first evening. But the following day, he was so seared by need and impatience that it was a wonder he did not ravage his reluctant spouse when they swam together in the sparkling stream after breaking their fast. Come nightfall however the prince's forbearance had finally run out and he swore that come what may he would have his way with his taciturn lover.

He waited only until Elrohir had shed his clothes before he made his move. Catching the Elf-knight by the wrist when Elrohir reached for his bed-trousers, he hauled the startled twin to the bed and bore him down upon it. Forestalling any protests or excuses on Elrohir's part, he swiftly straddled him and launched a heady assault, forcing his way past the twin's defenses, using his many graces to entice and enflame his spouse. If he could but drive Elrohir's lust past the point of no return, he would make the first breach in the wall of silence that stood between them. Not even all of Elrohir's self-control could withstand the wild rapture of a carnal encounter with his prince.

Capturing the Elf-knight in a scalding kiss, he pressed their groins together and drove upward until their swollen shafts slid and rubbed against each other. Elrohir groaned against his lips as sensation overtook reason. Legolas dared to break their kiss and look upon his lover's countenance. Elrohir stared back at him, eyes flashing with unleashed hunger.

Legolas gasped when he was summarily rolled over then pulled up by his hips until he rested on elbows and knees. A moment later, he felt Elrohir spread him open. But unlike times past, the Elf-knight did not set a leisurely pace. With little preparation beyond a few swipes and stabs of his tongue, Elrohir molded himself against Legolas' sleek back and mounted him with one deep thrust.

The archer grabbed at the headboard bars, recognizing the signs of an impending hard ride. The relentless breaching that followed confirmed his assumption. His world swiftly narrowed until all he was aware of was the hard flesh that cleaved and opened him with every lunge of Elrohir's hips. He tightened his grip on the headboard, dug his knees into the mattress and pushed back against his mate to ensure that he was deeply speared with every bruising thrust. For he perceived in what seemed an act of subjugation Elrohir's unspoken plea for forgiveness and acceptance despite his fault in the tragedy that had shaken the very foundations of his House.

Legolas readily answered that need, imparting to his mate through his willing submission the depth of his love and lust, assuring Elrohir that he had not judged him and found him wanting. That he still was and would always be his beloved Elf-knight to whom alone Legolas would surrender all that he was and had. It would not be the last time that Elrohir would use him thusly nor was it the first. And the prince had demanded the same of his mate in times of greatest need and never had Elrohir refused him either. A coupling could be as much a service as an act of passion. Neither Elf felt demeaned by the former for both knew deepest love and trust impelled the wanting as much as the yielding.

The ensuing spiral to completion was swifter and more dizzying than they were accustomed to. Attaining release first, Elrohir muffled his cry against Legolas' back. As he spent himself deep within his spouse, he felt their spirits touch in that first tentative union that always followed a prolonged separation. Quickly hearkening to the need to complete their coupling, he withdrew from Legolas and, brusquely turning the archer over onto his back, lowered his head between his thighs and closed his mouth over the prince's thrumming length. A few hard sucks on his shaft was all it took ere Legolas all but howled his pleasure and spilled a creamy stream down the Elf-knight's throat.

Winded by such an intense climax, the archer did not move but waited for Elrohir to creep back up to lie by him. His backside still throbbing somewhat from Elrohir's vigorous delving, he winced when he turned on his side to face the twin. Elrohir saw his discomfort and flushed in regret.

“I am sorry, melethen”--my love--he contritely murmured.

He swiftly rose and retrieved a small bottle from the shelf that graced a corner of the sleeping alcove. It was filled with an unguent that helped soothe aches and other pains and was oft used by the couple for the times when their loving had far exceeded their bodies' capacity for such usage. Legolas said nothing but smiled, rolled back onto his belly and parted his legs. He sighed in relief as the ache faded to a bearable degree with the application of the mild-scented salve. A short laugh followed by a moan escaped him when Elrohir flexed his long fingers to do more than ease the medicament into him.

“'Tis wicked of you to torment me so,” he gasped as he was skillfully stroked within.

Elrohir smiled. “Nay, I am merely making amends,” he countered. He leaned down until his breath feathered the skin of the archer's shoulder. “Not to mention that I always enjoy watching you come undone,” he added, kissing the smooth flesh beneath his lips. A moment later, he sneaked his other hand between Legolas' thighs and proceeded to fondle the archer as well.

Legolas groaned as he was gently pleasured. It did not take long before he gave in to Elrohir's desire and, shuddering helplessly, spent himself in the Elf-knight's hand. He waited for Elrohir to withdraw his fingers then, chuckling weakly, pushed himself once more onto his side and beckoned to his mate to lie beside him. The twin did so, a pleased grin brightening his features.

“You are incorrigible, rochir vorn”--dark knight--Legolas remarked.

“But you love me just the same,” Elrohir smirked.

It was the opening Legolas had been waiting for. “I will always love you,” he said. “Even did you wrong me, I would not be able to stop loving you.” He edged closer, quickly curling his arm around Elrohir when the latter's expression abruptly turned wary.

“I should hope so,” Elrohir whispered.

“Nor would your dear naneth”--mother--Legolas dared to add. At once he felt Elrohir tense. He held the Elf-knight even more tightly. “And I wager she would absolve you of any blame, Elrohir. All do, even your father.”

Elrohir drew in a ragged breath. He turned his face away but not before Legolas saw the pain in his eyes. “You would not be so blithe about this had it been your mother who was tortured so,” he said in a tight voice. “And your folk butchered or maimed. And all because of my ill-founded assumptions.”

“Ill-founded?” Legolas repeated. “You had scoured the pass yourself just weeks earlier and encountered no Orcs or Trolls or even outlawed Men. You based your assumptions on what you saw with your own eyes. And even then you still counselled that she bring an armed escort if she chose to push through with her visit. 'Twas hardly your fault that the Orcs had hidden themselves from you or that they have grown greater in number than any of us had previously suspected.” He leaned over to gaze at his spouse's face.

Still Elrohir did not turn to look at him. Legolas' mouth tightened. His mate was still blocking what he could of their bond.

“Your need to do penance has overtaken your good sense,” he pointed out a little sharply. “Else you would realize that you have committed no sin and therefore need not do penance in the first place!”

Elrohir abruptly turned his head to glare at him. “You belittle my egregious mistake in judgment!” he growled. “Yet had I erred on the side of caution and advised her not to take that pass at all, she would not now lie in the Healing Halls, savaged by those beasts!”

“And she could just as well have crossed the Redhorn unscathed had your father or Glorfindel provided her with a much larger retinue, which, may I remind you, was what you recommended,” Legolas retorted. “Elrohir, your assumptions were sound! Glorfindel would have made the same choice in your place. As would Elladan or I. You cannot fault yourself in this!”

Elrohir opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it then looked away once more. Legolas scowled. His primal Wood-elven nature getting the better of him, he cast diplomacy aside and resorted to pure instinct. He reached over and, cupping Elrohir's face, compelled the younger twin to turn his head and look at him.

“I will not let you shut me out, Elf-knight,” the archer whispered through gritted teeth. “You can do your best to hold me at bay, but I swear you will not succeed.”

He sealed their mouths together, forcing Elrohir's lips apart and pillaging the sweet warmth within until the Elf-knight was gasping in resurgent need. Pressing his advantage, Legolas gave free rein to his desire. He ran his hands over Elrohir's body with implacable resolve, fingers seeking and caressing every curve of hard muscle, following the dips and swells of the warrior's rippled abdomen, sweeping over lean hips and long limbs and stroking his groin and resurgent shaft before slipping lower to slide his seed-anointed fingers into the Elf-knight's body.

When Elrohir did not resist, he drew away just long enough to shift between his mate's legs before reclaiming his lips once more. Tentatively nudging the Elf-knight's upper thigh with his shaft, he was relieved when Elrohir slid his legs around him and locked his ankles at the small of his back. With a groan, Legolas sank deep into the heated silk of his darkling lover's core.

They moved in near silent synchrony, only the barest of moans or smallest of gasps breaking the stillness. Feeling Elrohir's restraint crumble with every thrust into his body, Legolas quickened his pace, determined to shatter what remained of the wall his mate had erected. Reaching out with his spirit, he summoned forth Elrohir's. Unable to deny that nigh imperious demand, Elrohir complied and let go. The sudden release permitted the free flow of rapture between them and, in mere seconds, they reached the very summit of pleasure. At that moment, their spirits embraced in wanton joy and soared in shared ecstasy even as their coupled bodies found exquisite completion.

They lingered on that otherworldly plane, caught between spiritual contentment and bodily bliss. When they finally came back to corporeal consciousness they could only hold onto each other wordlessly, stunned by so breathtaking an experience.

Several minutes passed before Elrohir opened his eyes to find Legolas tenderly regarding him. Seeing naught but devotion in his archer-mate's jewel gaze, the Elf-knight felt his resistance melt like so much ice under the heat of the waxing sun come springtime. Tears of gratefulness pricked his eyes. He heaved a shuddery breath and finally permitted himself to believe that perhaps he had not done so great a wrong after all.

Soothed by his spouse's sweet and complete trust in him, Elrohir slackened his hold on himself and wept. And as he shed his tears, so did he slowly cast off the black remorse that had made him as much a captive as his unfortunate mother.

Holding his beloved close to his heart, Legolas sighed in relief. He knew Elrohir would not completely absolve himself of all blame so swiftly. That was not the Elf-knight's way. But he had accepted at last that he was not wholly at fault either and that was good enough for now. Time would take care of the rest. Time and his woodland prince's unflinching love.

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

Glossary:

laer - Sindarin for summer

sennight - abbreviation of seven nights; defunct Middle English term for a week

orangery - building where orange trees are grown, especially a large greenhouse for use in cooler climates

gwanur - brother or sister but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman

Nana - Mama

To be continued…
- 35
- 36
- 37
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness