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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26418 -:- 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 XLVI

Minas Tirith, 17 Gwaeron T.A. 3019

The reek of death was inescapable. The Pelennor Fields while no longer widely littered with the shattered bodies of Men and Orcs had been the scene of unimaginable carnage just two days earlier. Now those bodies had been laboriously borne to the funeral pyres.

The Men of Gondor did not favor cremation as a means of laying the dead to rest but they were aware of the consequences of leaving them to rot in the open while burial pits were dug. Disease would invade the city and further decimate its already diminished population. And in any case, none cared to further desecrate the Pelennor by turning it into a massive graveyard. The once verdant plains had already been cruelly sullied by Sauron's hordes, the outlying farmlands and orchards both within and without the encircling Rammas Echor burned to the ground or hacked into ruin. No, the Men of Gondor did not care to have their city overlook in perpetuity the evidence of the brutal conflict that had nearly brought their existence to an end.

And might still do so.

There was none among them foolish enough to think that they had defeated the Dark Lord. He had shown but a fraction of his might to them, prematurely believing that with only this pittance of his power he would at last bring down the last bastion of Elendil's race. Rudely disabused of this notion by the astounding stubbornness and valor of his foes, he would not hold back thence. Next time he would unleash the full measure of his fury and hatred upon them. He would crush them and Middle-earth would fall into darkness.

But that was for the morrow. For now they would preserve what they could of the beauty still left to their beloved home. And so they raised low pyres in hollows then gathered the bodies for burning. Their own they lovingly laid upon the pyres, shedding tears for kin and kith as the flames consumed their earthly remains. The Men of Harad and Rhûn they treated with marginally less gentleness yet they did not toss them helter-skelter into the same pits as the Orcs. These were still Men after all even if they had served the Enemy. They did not deserve to have their bones and ashes mingle with those of such soulless creatures. The Orcs however were dealt with in summary fashion, bodies and body parts thrown without a care into the hollows and hurriedly lit that the cleansing fires might take them from people's sights and memories soonest.

Sickened by the relentless odor of burning flesh despite his many years having had his share in the roasting of Orcs dead and alive, Elladan sought solitude at the far end of the green lawn in the Citadel of the Guarded City. He did not need the quiet to achieve what he desired but it was easier when it was so. For in silence he could focus more on the task at hand - the reaching out through the bond that tied them to his faraway woodland mate.

The decision to ride to war had by no means been a lightly made one or even something he had wanted. But duty had found him once more and he had obeyed it summons.

Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride to him in Rohan! [1]

Unsigned and unmarked by any seal, the message had come to them when they least expected it, borne by a hawk of no identifiable origin. Halbarad and his men had initially assumed that it was from Aragorn or at the very least one of his companions. But Elrond and his children suspected otherwise. By now the Fellowship would be in the south while the hawk was of a northern species that migrated to the east during the winter months. Even trained courier birds followed their instinctual habits, returning to their masters' abodes only after their period of migratory rest. 'Twas the reason Legolas had perforce come to Rivendell with the news of Gollum's escape - at the height of the cold season, there were no winged messengers to bear missives across the mountains.

Yet here was one, in the dead of winter, and apparently untroubled by the cold. Only enchantment could alter the creature's natural behavior as well as shield it from the elements. Where could there be such power away from Imladris save in the Golden Wood where Galadriel wielded Nenya, one of the sister rings to Elrond's Vilya. The thought that the bearer of the third and last of the elven rings of power wrought by Celebrimbor might be the source of the message did cross their minds but only briefly. For ever had Mithrandir wielded Narya only to impart strength and courage when and where needed and never had he been one to manipulate nature's flow as the treacherous Saruman had been known to do on occasion.

Not that it had mattered overmuch to the Dúnedain whence the message hailed. If Aragorn needed them, they would ride to his aid. Neither Elrond nor his sons could do less. Though apprehensive for their safety, Elrond released the twins from the oath he had extracted from them and gave them his blessing to ride forth with the Rangers. Elrohir had more than the implacable sense of honor and obligation he shared with his brother to spur him on but even had he not, he would have done his duty. As Elladan did now, his one regret that he had not been able to speak to his mate afore departing.

Glorfindel had borne his last message to Galvreth. Fearing invasion of his ally's less protected kingdom, Elrond had sent the golden-haired captain and a goodly number of his warriors to Mirkwood to bolster Thranduil's army. The Rivendell lord then girded himself for possible battle in his own realm, taking command of the valley's forces for the first time in centuries now that his sons would ride south.

Elladan could only hope that his letter had reached Galvreth before Mirkwood was invaded. For of that he was certain - that the war had reached the Elven kingdom in the north of Mirkwood. As with all closely bound Elves, he could sense Galvreth's feelings when they were unusually heightened. And the emotions that had flowed through their bond told of rage and tension and the blood-thirst that came upon all soldiers when they were in the thickest of fierce fighting. He could not know the prince's thoughts or send him his - the distance between them was too great. He could only guess at the cause for Galvreth's fury. Considering what had just passed in Gondor, invasion by Sauron's armies was the most likely reason of all.

He reached out with his spirit, seeking reassurance that his spouse was well. For a seemingly endless while, the channel was quiet. Too quiet for his ease. But of a sudden, feeling flowed through, nigh inundating him in its intensity. It surged through him, filling him with renewed relief and great joy.

He allowed his own feelings free flow that his beloved might similarly know respite from anxiety and into that flow he poured every ounce of the love he held in his heart for his argent prince. The answering wave of profoundest affection washed over him and he avidly fed on it as he might breathe deeply of the rejuvenating breezes of his valley home after a wearying sojourn away from it.

It was only after the longest spell that he grudgingly withdrew from the link, feeling likewise Galvreth's reluctance at severing their connection. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat then unconsciously squared his shoulders. Galvreth was hale and whole and loved him deeply. That was enough.

The light grip of a hand on his shoulder recalled him to the present and he turned to look into his brother's sympathetic countenance. With him were Legolas and Gimli, the Dwarf eyeing him with some curiosity. He wondered how long they had stood there, waiting for him to complete his silent communiqué with Galvreth.

“He is well?” Elrohir quietly asked.

“They all are if Galvreth's calm is any indication,” Elladan replied. He looked at Legolas who gazed at him anxiously. “I sensed no grief beyond what he would feel for the fallen of your folk and the damage to the forest.”

“What of Erebor I wonder,” Gimli said with a scowl. “Legolas said that war marched on our own lands and it appears he was correct.”

“If the war has touched Mirkwood, it is highly unlikely the other lands east of the mountains were spared,” Elrohir agreed. “And if they fail to stay the Enemy, war will sweep over Hithaeglir into Eriador and reach Imladris, the Shire and even Lindon. Whether we prevail against the Dark Lord or fall before him, we shall all do so together.”

“Yet I have much confidence in your people's mettle,” Elladan said. “The Lonely Mountain shall not fall so quickly to Sauron I wager.”

Gimli's eyes glinted. “Should that evil happen, my people will make sure he pays dearly for it. He will ever rue rousing the enmity of the Dwarves.”

Legolas wanly smiled. “I am glad to know my home safe for the moment,” he said. “All the more reason have I to do my utmost when we come before the Black Gate.” He tucked closer to Elrohir's side when the younger twin slipped an arm around him. “I have been meaning to ask you, gwanur”-brother-he addressed Elladan. “Did Aragorn tell you all that passed between us? I do not wish to have you believe that I played Elrohir false.”

Elladan grinned. “He could keep no part of it from me. And by the time he was done I deemed him sufficiently chastened if only by the embarrassment of admitting such a thing to me. Gimli can attest to that. But, alas for him, Elrohir would not leave well enough alone!”

Elrohir snorted. “Under the circumstances, I think I had every right,” he pointed out. “After all, he dared encroach on what is mine and mine alone.”

Legolas blushed with pleasure at his mate's possessiveness. He regarded Elrohir with equal parts fondness and curiosity. “But what did you say to him ere we took the Paths of the Dead?” he queried. “I have never seen Aragorn so scarlet of hue in all the time I have known him.”

The Elf-knight shrugged. “Oh, I only told him that he had best school himself if he wished to retain the ability to sire heirs on my sister.”

While Legolas gaped at his bluntness, Gimli burst out laughing. “I wager that is one bit of advice he will never forget,” the Dwarf chortled.

**********

As agreed by the Captains of the West, the allied forces of Gondor and Rohan that could be gathered in the time allowed departed the following morn to march to the Black Land. Seven thousand strong that army was; decidedly no match for the vast one Sauron coddled within his walls. But as it was no more than bait to keep his eye anywhere but on his own land and the two doughty Hobbits who made their way through that arid waste toward Mount Doom with their precious, perilous burden, it would suffice. In any case, there were enough amongst its ranks whose names would inspire dread in the Dark Lord. As Mithrandir put it, he would not laugh at their seemingly pitiful attempt to assail him but send forth his might to crush them once and for all.

On the second day out of Minas Tirith, they came to Morgul Vale and the Captains looked upon the city of the Wraiths emptied for now of all its inhabitants. The wisdom of destroying that evil hold was debated but Mithrandir counseled against it. That was not their goal and it would only call attention to the way the Ring-bearer had taken. However, Aragorn set a guard on the valley and the roads leading to it and many archers hid themselves on the slopes overlooking the Crossroads and in the surrounding woods. He also ordered the bridge to the keep broken and the sickly undergrowth set afire. Withdrawing a slight distance from the city, Aragorn then bade his army encamp. Best they all rest as much as they were able before the final encounter.

Elrohir spoke to Aragorn right after the evening meal, which all but one Hobbit partook of only sparingly. Pippin provided some mirth for his friends when he devoured more than his share of the rations. But as he was almost certainly marching to his doom as were they all, none took exception to his hearty appetite despite the desperate circumstances. It would take a miracle to reunite the Halfling with his ailing cousin. Merry recuperated in the Houses of Healing, his part in the slaying of the Witch-king on the Pelennor Fields bought at a steep price. Now it was Pippin's turn to strike a blow for the Shire-folk.

Elrohir said: “I will take Legolas into the woods for the night. The company of trees will do wonders for his low spirits.”

“He misses his home,” Aragorn said sympathetically. “Aye, best to go now whilst there are guards about and our foes gone from yonder fortress.” They both glanced at where Minas Morgul lay in murky shadow. Aragorn hesitated then added: “I thank you for staying by me even unto the most evil hour.”

“You are our brother, Estel,” Elrohir simply said.

Aragorn studied him then nodded. “I hope Legolas can bring himself to trust me again,” he murmured. “We have not had the chance to talk much about personal matters since we left Rohan.”

“Legolas is starting to trust you once more,” the Elf-knight assured him. “Else would he speak of coming back to Gondor should you win your throne and aiding in the restoration of these lands?” At Aragorn's start of surprise, Elrohir said, “He loves you still as do Elladan and I. Our trust may have been shaken, as so much has been in these dark days but it never vanished, gwanur. It merely slumbered a while.”

Aragorn blew his breath out in relief. “Thank Eru,” he whispered.

Elrohir left him and went to Legolas who awaited him at the edge of the camp. They quietly vanished into the woods, ignoring the wondering looks that followed them. Elrohir led the way having passed through the region during the twins' many visits to Gondor in days past. None of the scouts sent ahead saw them for they chose not to be seen.

They came to a small clearing, the trees thick around it. Entering, they saw that the moon cast its pale light onto the uncovered space. Legolas walked to the center, hands brushing the trucks and low-lying branches of the enclosing trees as he passed them. He looked up at the sky, grateful for the moon's constant valiant presence, then closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet green scent that never failed to refresh his soul.

Elrohir watched him as he stood there, bathed in silvery light, his ethereal features ever more comely and his slender frame's beauty and grace wondrously apparent. Love swelled in his heart for this Wood-elf who called himself his in every way, heart, body and spirit.

“The air is wholesome though we are so close to that accursed city,” Legolas commented, eyes still closed in contemplation.

“It will take much more to wholly taint Ithilien,” Elrohir agreed.

Legolas dipped his head thoughtfully. “I wonder if my folk may settle here should we prevail,” he said. At length, he sighed and, lifting his head, looked at Elrohir, a measure of peace in his countenance.

Elrohir asked: “Is the ache eased?”

Legolas nodded, walking slowly back to him. “'Tis not as sharp now,” he replied in a hushed voice. “Though I never imagined that when the Lady warned me to beware of the cries of the gulls it would mean…” [2] He went into Elrohir's arms and leaned his head on his shoulder. “You have heard the song of the Sea many a time yet you do not speak of a yearning for it. Why do I feel it so keenly when you do not?”

Elrohir gently wove his fingers through the archer's fair hair. “You are newly awakened to its call,” he murmured. “'Tis not surprising that you feel it so strongly. More so when you never thought to know it at all. Ere you heard the gulls, 'twas the forests that held your heart. But the longing for Elvenhome is in every Elf's heart though it needs be roused in those who did not heed the ancient summons. And mayhap I do not feel the call as strongly because of my mortal heritage. If we survive this, I will sail when the time comes as will you but I shall always grieve for this home we will one day forsake.”

Legolas drew back slightly and peered at him. “Do you ever regret your choice to be of Elvenkind?” he softly inquired.

Elrohir shook his head. “If I harbor any regrets, 'tis that I came to love my mortal kin,” he said. “It will make the parting from them that much harder. But the choice to be with you forevermore I will never rue for what good is any life if it must be lived bereft of your love, of your loving?”

The archer somberly considered his answer. “Arwen chose otherwise,” he remarked. “Will the longing diminish for her?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Elrohir replied. “But I am inclined to believe - we all are - that it will not diminish enough to spare her grief at the end. She will always yearn for the West, more so when it is utterly beyond her reach. But she is as I. Eternity would be the greater burden were she to live it with only memory to sustain her. The promise of life everlasting with Estel beyond the circles of the world will assuage the other yearning.”

Legolas pensively gazed at him. He raised his hands and caressed the Elf-knight's face, running his fingers along the sinuous curves of his lips and the patrician lines of his nose and cheekbones. He leaned forward, molding their bodies closely, and sealed their mouths together, deepening the kiss with every dip and lick of his tongue.

He broke their kiss only to trail more along Elrohir's cheek to his ear, caressing it with lips and tongue, teasing the sensitive tip until he heard Elrohir's stifled moan. He dipped his head to nibble at the side of his mate's neck while with one hand he tugged Elrohir's collar open. Unmindful of the twin's mail tunic, he ardently pressed more kisses to his bared throat. Elrohir breathed in raggedly, then placed a visibly trembling hand on the prince's shoulder and reluctantly stayed him. Legolas stared at him intently, his breathing as shallow as Elrohir's.

“I want you,” he urgently whispered.

Elrohir swallowed with some difficulty. “There are guards about though they do not see us just yet,” he cautioned.

Legolas lowered his gaze. He did not hide his disappointment.

It was not something Elrohir had ever learned to abide for long. He glanced about then found his eyes drawn to the thick crowns of the trees about them. A slow smile curled his lips. He looked at Legolas once more.

“Do you remember?” he huskily queried, lifting his eyes to the leafy cover above them.

Legolas followed his gaze and a mirroring smile brightened his mien. “I remember,” he said, eyes sparkling with elation.

Without a word, he took Elrohir's hand and led him to a tree with stout branches and close-packed foliage. They ascended it and were seen no more that night. A few scouts passed through the glade but none heard or saw anything amiss. For they were only Men and the ways of the Firstborn were oft mysterious to them.

The lovers returned to the camp in the hour before sunrise. There was a lightness to Legolas' step that bespoke the renewal of his spirits. A gleam in Elrohir's eyes that told of quiet joy and deep contentment. Gimli had learned to see the signs and one look at his Elf-friend told him all that he needed to know. He rolled his eyes in droll fashion ere permitting the Wood-elf to haul him onto Arod's back behind him.

“Are you hale enough to ride?” he inquired once he was comfortably settled.

Legolas chuckled. “'Tis not my haleness you should inquire about,” he archly retorted.

Gimli did not respond at once but only studied the other horsemen for an inordinate length of time. At last he finally muttered, “I see. And is he? Hale enough, I mean.”

Legolas looked across at his beloved. The slightest shifts in Elrohir's carriage were the only signs of the mild discomfort he surely must feel after a full night's loving from his archer spouse. But then Elrond's sons were healers well trained in their craft and it was only to be expected that the Elf-knight would always be prepared for any contingency, foreseen or not. As he had seen to Legolas ere they took the Paths of the Dead, so had Legolas been guided in tending to him early this morn.

“I believe he is,” Legolas said, his voice soft with affection. “And you, Gimli? Are you ready for this venture? Likely our last and greatest venture?”

Gimli growled with anticipation. “I am more than ready!” he declared. “Let Sauron do his worst. He will find it woefully insufficient to bring this Dwarf down.”

Legolas laughed, heartened by his friend's unwavering valor. They joined Aragorn in the army's vanguard, riding abreast with Elladan and Elrohir, while Mithrandir and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth flanked Gondor's uncrowned king.

With the resolve and gallantry of true hearts, they rode to battle and probable death, the price demanded of them for the sake of the lands they loved and the future and fortunes of the folk that called those lands home.

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

Glossary:

Gwaeron - Sindarin for March

Rammas Echor - great and ancient wall that surrounded Minas Tirith and enclosed the Fields of the Pelennor

Erebor - the Dwarves' realm east of Mirkwood; also known as the Lonely Mountain

Hithaeglir - the Misty Mountains

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

Ithilien - 'Land of the Moon'; a province of Gondor east of Anduin on the borders of Mordor

[1] Taken from “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King”, Book V, Chapter 2: The Passing of the Grey Company.

[2] Taken from “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers”, Book III, Chapter 5: The White Rider.

To be continued…
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness