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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26417 -:- 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 XXXVI

Imladris, T.A. 2510

A pall hung over Rivendell. No merry songs or joyous laughter was there to be heard. And the very trees seemed to droop in sympathy for the newly bereft inhabitants of the hidden vale.

Their fair mistress was gone. Try as she might, Celebrían had at the last not possessed enough wherewithal to cope with the evil done to her. Though healed in body, she was broken in spirit.

Of her courage and determination there was no doubt. But her fragile hold on sanity overtook both and in the end won. Fear swathed her like a thick shroud and had her cowering in corners like a trapped rat. It was heart-rending to watch the once proud Lady of Imladris reduced to gibbering in fright from a mere shadow or screaming in mindless anguish from a touch rendered at the wrong time or place. Worst of all was when she could not even recognize her husband and children and fled from them as if they were the foulest of the Dark Lord's creations.

Many were the times that Erestor would find Arwen sobbing heartbrokenly after having been violently repudiated by the mother she adored. And Glorfindel and Lindir made it their business to keep an eye on Elrond after they saw the first weals and bruises dealt him by his wife during one of her fits.

As for the brethren, none could say how they would have fared had their woodland spouses not been there to tend them. Legolas was fierce as a bear defending its young in his protectiveness of Elrohir. And drawing from his own ghastly experience, Galvreth provided much insight into his law-mother's behavior to help Elladan deal with her frightening moods. After all, he, too, had endured such spells of lunacy in the dark days of his convalescence.

“Her torment lasted much longer than my own,” he gravely reminded Elladan one winter eve while they rested before the fire in their bedchamber. The older twin had spent the afternoon helping Elrond restrain Celebrían after she attempted to assault Arwen with a broken flagon. He returned to their conjugal quarters, exhausted in body and drained in spirit and his patience running dangerously thin. “'Tis a wonder that she still lives in light of what was done to her. I greatly doubt that even your father's skill and wisdom will overcome the ruins of her mind.”

Diverted from his frustration over his mother's state, Elladan regarded Galvreth worriedly. The prince's eyes were shadowed with grim remembrance.

“This has revived memories best left buried in the past,” he murmured. He slid his arms around the other Elf. “Is there aught I can do to give you ease?”

Galvreth seemed to come back from some faraway place. He saw his mate's concern. In the face of Elladan's affectionate overture, the shadow receded. It was past and done with. He was hale and happy beyond measure. With a small smile, he leaned into Elladan's embrace, resting his argent head against the twin's shoulder.

“Just feeling your love gives me ease,” he replied. “There is no need for you to do aught but hold me.”

Elladan tightened his embrace and bent to press a kiss to Galvreth's cheek. “Mayhap 'tis enough to keep memories at bay for the moment,” he softly said. “But I would rather banish them for a longer while.”

He said no more but drew Galvreth into a kiss so heated it put the fire in the hearth to shame. Galvreth groaned, knowing he would not be able to resist his mate's sensual entreaty. And in any case, it was also Elladan's way of distracting himself from the woes that beset his family and home. With a happily resigned sigh, Galvreth allowed Elladan to bear him down on the warm skins that served as hearthside rugs.

The chambermaids would not be able to hold their tongues once they saw the state of the rugs when they cleaned the apartment. That they would once more give the household staff cause for gossip was Galvreth's last coherent thought before Elladan made it next to impossible to think at all.

**********

Winter's closing heralded the end of life as Elrond and his family had known it.

The Peredhel lord had thought to bring his wife to Lothlórien come spring when she seemed to rally in the final days of winter and her moments of lucidity grew in number. Perhaps in the fastness of the heart of Elvendom in Middle-earth, in the security and serenity of her home of old and in the inimitable care of her parents, Celeborn and Galadriel, she might recover in full. Such was his hope that he had Glorfindel and Elrohir cleanse the routes over the mountains as soon as the snow began to melt.

But of a sudden, Celebrían's health started to deteriorate as steadily as her reason had eroded. It was as if her body could no longer withstand the rigors of her struggle to hang on to the shreds of rationality still left to her. Alarmed, defiantly denying the pull of Mandos' halls on his wife, Elrond came to a painful decision. The only decision he could make.

He took her to the Grey Havens as soon as the weather permitted lengthy travel. Even as her children and people mourned her loss, he put her on one of Círdan's Valinor bound ships, fervently praying she would survive the voyage to Aman. For it was now apparent that only in the Blessed Realm, in the healing environs of Irmo's gardens of Lórien under the care of his gentle wife Estë could she have a chance to truly heal.

He stood on the quay with Glorfindel and Círdan flanking him, keeping his eyes to the very last moment on the frail figure standing at the stern of the ship that slowly sailed down the Gulf of Lhûn toward the Great Sea. Celebrían's answering gaze was frightened yet hopeful, her hand visibly shaking as she raised it in a final farewell. It was fortunate his friends stood by him as he saw his lady off for had they not, Elrond would not have possessed the strength to walk away but would likely have sank to his knees right there on the quay to weep over his loss. Thus did the awful weight of the Peredhil's singular heritage once more make itself felt.

The Elves of Mithlond looked on in sympathy though some wondered why the Imladrin lord had not taken ship with his ailing wife. But then not all Elves fully comprehended the implacable sense of duty that dictated the choices of the Mariner's heirs or the extraordinary foresight that guided them toward their respective destinies.

Elrond returned to Rivendell grim and taciturn with a harshness to his seemingly aged features that reminded one and all that the blood of Men also flowed through his veins. It would be many years before the un-elvish severity of his countenance would diminish; decades before he reassumed his true guise as a scion of the ancient Elven kings. But in the weeks following that grievous separation from his beloved wife, he seemed more a lord of Men than a high-born Elda.

For many days, he closeted himself for hours at a time with his sons, captain and chief counsellor, going over the events of the past year over and again, studying maps of the mountains and the lands around them and, most telling of all, systematically identifying the locations of all orkish strongholds discovered since the attack on Celebrían or suspected of existing. By the time the chart was completed, they had covered a wide area ranging from the remote Grey Mountains to the northwestern bounds of the Golden Wood.

It was almost summer again when Elrond called his children to a conference in his study. When he saw that the woodland princes had escorted the twins thence, he asked them to join the family. For they were after all kin-by-marriage. The twins saw that their father had just finished writing a missive and now inserted the thin scroll into a small leather pouch. This he affixed to the leg of one of the valley's haggards trained to bear messages abroad. The brethren exchanged glances. They had recognized the insignia on the label that bound the scroll. Wherefore a letter to Arahad, present Chieftain of the Dúnedain of the north? Elrond saw their look and quietly assured them that all would be explained.

After sending the hawk on its way, Elrond bade them all take their seats. He did not waste much time but at once informed them of his reason for contacting Arahad and his doughty Rangers.

He desired to ride against the beasts that had hurt his wife so grievously. Part of his desire was spurred by rage and a need for revenge. But another part was dictated by reason. The Orcs had grown alarmingly numerous and overbold. They had to be contained lest they overran the north and wreaked destruction and wretchedness on its denizens, Elf, Man or Dwarf. It was time to cleanse the region as much as they were able. Arahad and his Men, with their extensive knowledge of the Orc-infested regions of the land, would be an invaluable aid to them in this quest. Granted, the Orcs would spawn relentlessly and there was no hope of the total surcease of their presence. But if they could even lessen their numbers to a defensible degree, the north would be much more wholesome for all who called it home.

At once his sons opposed him though their counter proposal was hardly more soothing.

“You have long foreseen that you have yet a vital part to play, Ada”-Papa-Elladan said. “Else you would have gone with Naneth to Aman. Yet should you ride forth now, you invite the possibility of an untimely passing. You must not gainsay your destiny out of vengeance. Let Elrohir and me go in your stead. If aught should befall us, at least the future of Middle-earth will not hang in the balance.”

Arwen had listened to her father's plan with ever widening eyes. Now she suddenly cried out, stricken by her brothers' proposition. “Nay!” she vehemently objected. “I will not lose you, too! Not any of you! Ai, what madness has overcome you all?”

Hastening to her side, Elrohir caught her in his arms. “Not madness, thel vell, but the exigencies of the times. Were you not now Lady of this realm of ours, would you not also take up arms and ride to defend our people? Our folk look to us for protection. They will look to you for guidance and courage, Undómiel.”

True to her breeding, Arwen subsided at her brother's counsel. When she lifted her head from his shoulder, though she was still dismayed and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, she protested no more but only said, “If that is what the Powers demand of us, so be it.”

“But what of Galvreth and me?” Legolas abruptly spoke up. “Would you forsake us to lonesome widowhood should ill overtake you?”

“What would you have us do, melethen?”-my love-Elrohir pointed out. “We have all sworn oaths not only to protect our people but also to guard the future of these lands as well.”

“Then we will ride with you when we can,” Galvreth answered. “Whenever our father can spare us for long, we will share your peril. Do not think to deny us, Elladan,” he added when the older twin started to protest.

“But we would not have you place yourselves in danger unbidden,” Elladan insisted.

“You can take us with you and know we are as safe as is possible in these times even amidst other warriors,” Legolas countered. “Or you can leave us behind and risk losing us when we follow you nonetheless.”

Elrohir made another stab at dissuading his spouse. “I do not fear death, Legolas,” he pleaded. “But yours I do fear. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“And do you think I could endure losing you?” Legolas reasoned. “I would fail from grief should you fall, Elrohir. I have not the strength to go on without you. Better to perish swiftly by the sword at your side than die inch by inch in an empty bed. I am going with you, rochiren. 'Tis quite useless to try and stop me.”

Elrond looked at Galvreth and saw the same mulish expression on his other law-son's face. He sighed and said: “It seems you have been bested in this argument, gwenyn”-twins-he remarked. “I cannot say I am pleased for you will be riding into danger and I loath the thought of any more injury done to my own. But I am proud of all of you. No Elf could call himself more blessed than I.”

He addressed the Mirkwood princes. “You must inform your sire of your decision. He has a right to know what you intend to do.” When they nodded in assent, he added, “And he will likely help you when you search the lands east of the mountains. Any aid will do much good in these dark times.”

Arwen shook her head, obviously unhappy with their decision, but kept her peace. Rising, she went to hug her father ere departing the study. Elladan did not look pleased at all but when Galvreth slid a placating arm around him, he leaned into the prince's embrace readily enough. Elrohir however proved to be in a more recalcitrant mood. With nary a word to the others and a fleeting glare at Legolas, he strode out of the chamber, a black look on his face. The archer anxiously stared after him. At Elrond's encouraging nod, he hurried after the younger twin.

Elrohir did not heed his calls but left the house and headed for the bridge that spanned the Bruinen's tributary stream. Bracing himself for the worst, Legolas followed him as the Elf-knight crossed the bridge then stalked along the banks of the rushing water. Elrohir may not have voiced further objections to his mate's decision but his silence and abrupt exit from the study were patently indicative of his great displeasure.

Elrohir made for an old oak that grew by the banks of the stream. He leapt up lightly to grasp a low-lying branch and lithely swung himself onto it. Legolas watched him disappear into the thick foliage. Doubtful that an invitation to join the younger twin would be forthcoming, the archer sprinted toward the tree and followed in Elrohir's wake.

He found Elrohir perched on a thick tree limb, half slouched against the trunk, arms folded and knees slightly raised, a posture that told him to keep his distance. His stony expression was not the least bit encouraging. Nor was the veiled glower he briefly bestowed on Legolas afore turning his eyes to some spot in the leafy canopy above.

Settling himself on the branch across from the twin, Legolas debated how best to appease his mate. Words would not do for now. Elrohir would simply refuse to listen and might even argue with him until they were both driven to say or do things they would heartily regret after. Neither would a supplicating demeanor make much of a dent in the warrior's simmering anger. He was much too upset to even take much notice. After a moment's hesitation, Legolas laid a tentative hand on Elrohir's knee.

Though the twin flinched beneath his touch, he did not pull his leg away. Emboldened, the archer let his hand slide a little further to caress the inside of the Elf-knight's thigh. Elrohir's mouth tightened and he pointedly kept his eyes averted. But Legolas felt a telltale tremor beneath his fingers. The archer's eyes glinted.

It had ever been his choice means of inveigling his darkling spouse into conciliation or accord with him. Elrohir had been heard to complain about his greatest weakness when it came to his Mirkwood love and how fulsomely and unfairly Legolas exploited it.

The prince did not hesitate to do so now. Keeping his gaze on Elrohir, he silently began to strip. He smiled inwardly when Elrohir could not help a darting glance at him as he doffed his jerkin and shirt. Slinging his clothing over another branch, he then set to unlacing his breeches. Again Elrohir chanced a quick peek. But he was not quite able to look away afterward for Legolas slowly peeled his breeches down, freeing his straining shaft as he did. With practiced ease, he drew the garment off along with his soft leather shoes and sent them to join the rest of his raiment.

Completely bare to Elrohir's reluctant stare, he swiftly crept forward and shamelessly straddled his startled mate's lap. Cupping Elrohir's face in his hands, he insistently pried his lips apart and coaxed him into a long, hot-tongued caress. Elrohir attempted to stifle a groan. He did not quite succeed but still stubbornly withheld the full measure of his passion. Legolas was not deterred. The treacherous bulge in Elrohir's crotch assured him of ultimate victory.

Legolas reached for the Elf-knight's hand and guided it to his shaft where it rose rigidly between them. He did not smother his hiss of pleasure when Elrohir reflexively curled his fingers around that proud length. Nor did he suppress his moans when the younger twin, ensorcelled as always by indulgence in his spouse's graces, stroked him to hip bucking abandon.

It was too much for Elrohir. With a growl, he broke their kiss, grasped Legolas' hips and hauled him up to his knees until the archer's length prodded his chin. Without preamble, he bent and closed his lips around the swollen flesh and drew upon it with such fury Legolas half wondered whether he had roused his mate's hunger for him overmuch.

He shakily clung to the trunk behind Elrohir, his gasps giving way to strangled cries as he was almost forcibly brought to the brink of release. Elrohir gave him no time to ready himself for the slide over that precipice. Weaving his arms around the archer, he took him in to the hilt, burying his nose in headily scented golden curls. With a hoarse keen, Legolas spilled ribbons of warm cream into Elrohir's mouth.

Shuddering, he collapsed into Elrohir's arms when the Elf-knight released him. But it seemed he had indeed stoked the twin's appetite for his charms beyond his wont. Before he could catch his breath, Elrohir pulled him astride his lap once more.

Legolas caught his breath when he felt the surge of turgid flesh beneath him slick with copious nascent seed. He whimpered in anticipation as he was lowered onto his mate's shaft then let out a low, throaty moan when it slid deep into him. To his mingled delight and dismay, Elrohir did not give him time to adjust to his piercing but thrust up repeatedly into him while he plied lusty kisses on the archer's throat, shoulders and chest, licking and nibbling at his nipples along the way.

Legolas half reared out of his embrace, undone by the onslaught. Elrohir hauled him back, pushed him down firmly until he was wholly sheathed once more and renewed his assault. Lost in a rapturous haze, Legolas could do naught but wantonly ride the flesh that filled him so generously.

Touch yourself, lassen vain!-my fair leaf.

The archer obeyed the silent command and stroked himself under Elrohir's appreciative gaze. The bliss soon became almost too great to endure especially when coupled with the joyous meshing of their spirits. Teetering on the edge of completion, Legolas tried to contain himself. But Elrohir fastened his lips on one peaked nipple and, sucking hard on it, shattered his control.

His release came in a nigh excruciating wave of ecstasy, heightened by the stroke of Elrohir's length within him. Spurts of pearlescent seed heralded his climax and he harshly sobbed as he trembled helplessly in the throes of rapture. Elrohir drove deep into him a few times before he, too, stiffened then arched into his own completion, filling his love near to the brim.

It was several minutes before either was able to move or speak. When Legolas at last sought to move off Elrohir's lap, he was startled when the latter stopped him, keeping him in place, still impaled. With a sharp thrill, Legolas realized that Elrohir's shaft had not fully subsided. He looked at his mate with a half penitent, half hopeful gaze.

“This has not changed what I think of your hare-brained intention to join us,” Elrohir said, the severity of his tone at odds with the covetous gleam in his eyes.

“I know,” Legolas murmured, shifting his hips slightly to caress his mate's embedded length.

“Be still, Wood-elf!” Elrohir hissed. He gripped Legolas' hips hard.

Legolas sweetly smiled, knowing he had already won. All that was needed was the assuagement of Elrohir's piqued pride at having been so swiftly persuaded to surrender. He lazily wove his arms around Elrohir's neck.

“Think of how lonely we would be were you to leave me behind,” he silkily murmured, punctuating his words with soft kisses. “But if I accompany you, we would not only be shield-mates but tryst-mates as well. Loving whenever and wherever the need overtakes us.”

Elrohir leaned back with a groan. “'Tis errantry we will be embarking on, not a - a love quest!”

Legolas chuckled huskily. “And who decreed that knights-errant cannot take their pleasure when far afield?” he countered with a grin. “Do you not agree that a warrior's resolve can be as much stoutened by a torrid tumble as by a heartening speech?”

“There is that…” Elrohir grudgingly conceded. He closed his eyes when Legolas wriggled mischievously on his lap, battling the growing urge to ravish his much too gamesome prince.

“Besides, we pledged ourselves to each other for good or ill,” Legolas reminded him, suddenly still and serious. “To share in sorrow and turmoil as well as joy and prosperity. I would not have it any other way, seron vell.”-beloved. He ghosted a kiss over Elrohir's cheek to his lips. “Do you not recall?” he whispered, his lips virtually a hair's breadth from Elrohir's. “We promised never to part for longer than absolutely necessary. I will not have us foresworn now, Elf-knight.”

Elrohir stared at him in wonder. It was sometimes difficult to believe that this mettlesome Elf had once been a meek, insecure child who had needed his championing against his own brothers. The wonder turned to reverence as he considered the beauteous, valorous prince that timid Elfling had grown up to be. And all his love and passion reserved for the younger twin alone. Elrohir no longer questioned his worth to have been gifted with so sterling a prize. But he did often give thanks in his prayers that 'twas upon him that Legolas had been bestowed all those years ago.

Shorn of further arguments, he closed the distance between them and pillaged the sweetness eagerly offered up for his pleasure.

**********

Arahad promptly sent word that his son Aragost would be in Rivendell within a fortnight. When Aragost and some dozen Rangers arrived in the valley, they found the sons of Elrond and their woodland mates awaiting them. Glorfindel had also elected to accompany them and with him were many of his fiercest warriors, all hot for revenge.

In this initial quest, the joint efforts of the Imladrin Elves and the northern Dúnedain would eradicate enough Orcs to make life more secure for travellers and dwellers of isolated communities alike for many a year. But all knew that the creatures perpetuated their numbers with a swiftness that was most unnatural. There could be no abatement of their guard if they were to keep the folk of the north safe particularly with the threat of Dol Guldur renewed and growing ever more malevolent. This the sons of Elrond took to heart.

For the next five centuries or so they would ride against the vermin that had so wronged their family, sometimes on their own, at others with a goodly number of Elven warriors. More oft than not they would join forces with the Rangers of the north and thus become close as brothers to the Men to whom their family's history so closely hewed. But in all those hundreds of years, one constant remained. They were seldom alone. For at their sides two fair-haired Elves of surpassing comeliness were many times to be seen, both of them clad in the green and brown of the reclusive folk of the once green wood.

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

Glossary:

Peredhel (pl. Peredhil) - Half-elf/Half-elven

Naneth - Mother

thel vell - dear sister

Undómiel - Quenya for Evenstar, appellation given to Arwen

Silmaril which has come to be regarded as the evening star

rochiren - my knight

To be continued…
- 36
- 37
- 38
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness