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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 XLVIII

Eryn Lasgalen, ethuil T.A. 3020

Elrond regarded his goblet of wine appreciatively. Dorwinion was the most renowned of libations to come out of the East but it was not the only one of great worth. This particular red was rich and smooth and faintly fruity and Elrond did not decline the gift of a bottle to bring with him when he returned to Rivendell.

Elrohir had received word at the onset of the previous winter that Legolas had finally returned from his extensive travels with Gimli. The Elf-knight only waited for the mountain passes to clear ere he set out for the woodland realm. Galvreth who had returned to Rivendell with Elladan and had agreed to reside permanently in the valley with his spouse naturally wished to visit his father and brothers and Elladan readily acquiesced to his wish. Apprised of his sons' plans, Elrond decided to travel with them.

They had arrived little more than a couple of hours ago and Thranduil had invited the Peredhel lord to join him in his study for a drink or two ere the evening meal. Amongst the various topics they discussed was Legolas' request for permission to take Elves out of Greenwood with him when he returned to the south-kingdom.

“So, you have given him leave to settle in Gondor.”

“And establish a colony of our folk in Ithilien.”

Elrond smiled when Thranduil scowled just a tad as he spoke. It could not have been easy for the Elvenking to give his consent. It was one thing to have his youngest son reside in Imladris for a decade or so at a time, another for him to settle for good in faraway Ithilien. Oh, Legolas would occasionally visit Mirkwood - or rather Eryn Lasgalen, Elrond reminded himself - but he would no longer call it home. That would be Ithilien from hereon until… Elrond sighed pensively.

Elrohir would not call Imladris home any longer either. His place was with his woodland mate and if that meant relocating to Gondor with him, so be it. He would offer his services to his king-brother as Legolas and Gimli had. And it would do Arwen good to have one of her brothers close at hand for the years that would remain to her ere she and Estel passed from the world. That was the time his sons and their spouses had decided they would depart from Middle-earth, the grace to stay on after Elrond sailed ahead granted the twins by the Valar for their choice to join themselves to the Firstborn.

Elrond was grateful he would see his sons again after their foster-brother's reign. But it would be a bittersweet reunion for their advent in Aman would mean that he would have truly lost his beloved daughter to the fate of Men, never to see her again until Eru gathered all his children together at the end of time.

Thranduil seemed to glean his thoughts. “I cannot begin to imagine how you have borne all the sorrow you have known,” he quietly said. “Eru willing that will be the last of your losses, my friend.”

“Eru willing,” Elrond murmured. “I have still to decide how best to break the news of Arwen's choice to Celebrían. I can only pray that she is sufficiently recovered from her torment to endure it.”

“Knowing your sons have chosen your path will help ease her grief.”

“A little. But we will always miss the child who did not. As you miss Haldoron to this day.”

Thranduil nodded in assent. “Yet I can hold to the hope that he will return to us. That even now he may already await us in Aman along with my dear wife.” He looked sadly at Elrond. “I wish 'twas the same for you and Arwen.”

“When the Valar offered the Peredhil the choice of fate, they expected each and every one of us to cleave to Elvenkind as my parents Eärendil and Elwing did,” Elrond said. “They did not realize that my father would have chosen to be of the race of Men had he had not left it to my mother to make the choice for both of them. My brother's decision came as a shock to them and I wager that if they could have then withdrawn the choice, they would have. For all their wisdom the Valar cannot comprehend what they have never experienced. They cannot understand how Eru's children can follow their hearts even to doom and ruin. Only those few who truly lived amongst us could know why we abide our hearts' choices. Mithrandir and my blessed foremother Melian knew. As did Sauron and Curunir who used that knowledge for their own ends.” He sagged back in his chair of a sudden, feeling the years weigh down on him as never before. “I am weary, Thranduil. There is a time to lay down one's burden and my time is very close at hand. I shall be glad to sail and find my rest though I will weep for all that I shall leave behind come that day.”

He would cross over Sea before the end of the following year. He and Galadriel and Gildor and a good many of their folk. But Celeborn would stay on a while longer; he would likely take the last ship as would Thranduil and most of his sons. The ties that bound them to Middle-earth were much too strong to break just yet. Glorfindel and Erestor however had decided to remain until the twins left and the Peredhel lord was relieved that Elladan and Galvreth would have their able counsel to help them in governing Imladris. The valley realm's time was coming to an end as well but the first decades of Aragorn's reign were going to be turbulent as he strove to master lands and peoples long without a king's rule. He would need the elven realms' might and aid more than ever until that mastery was complete.

In any case, his imminent departure was the reason he had decided to journey to Eryn Lasgalen one last time. Loathe to part from his sons for too long during the remainder of his time in Middle-earth, Elrond decided to accompany them.

“Will you visit Arwen before you go?” Thranduil queried.

“Nay, I could not bear it,” Elrond said. “All we had to say to each other, we said ere we parted in Rohan.” He eyes turned southward. “I bid farewell to my brother and wife just before parting from them and nigh broke each time. A third time would be beyond my strength to endure.”

Thranduil gripped his shoulder consolingly. “At least you will be with your lady very soon. And your sons will rejoin you before too long.”

“'Tis a great comfort,” Elrond said with a faint smile. “A very great comfort indeed.”

The dinner bell sounded. They rose and left the study and walked together to the dining hall in companionable silence.

**********

After the evening meal, Elivorn asked Gimli if he played the board game Strategy. The Dwarf had come to Eryn Lasgalen upon Thranduil's invitation, arriving just three days ago. The Elvenking's curiosity about the reasons for his son's befriending of a Dwarf and counting him among his dearest comrades had outstripped his deep-seated wariness of the Naugrim. To everyone's surprise, Gimli not only got along with all the woodland princes but also engaged the king himself in many a lively discussion, which Thranduil enjoyed much to his surprise. But perhaps that was because Gimli was very unlike Thorin Oakenshield whom Thranduil remembered with respect but very little affection.

Gimli replied that not only did he play the game but could best Elivorn at it as well. Whereupon Elivorn half indignantly challenged him to prove his claim. Naturally all the princes and Thranduil and Elrond decided this was one game they had to witness for Elivorn was admittedly the royal family's best. The twins however already had prior knowledge of Gimli's skill having watched him handily beat a disbelieving Faramir one evening in Minas Tirith and decided to retire for the night, Elrohir frowning when Legolas did not do likewise. An expression Gimli did not miss. When the archer would have gone along to the gaming room, the Dwarf promptly barred the way.

“Get yourself to your quarters, Elf,” he ordered. “I do not think Elrohir is satisfied with just the one quick tumble you gave him earlier.”

“But I would like to see if you will indeed best Elivorn,” Legolas blushingly protested.

“Nay, you do not, you are only trying to be a proper host to me,” Gimli retorted. “But in truth you would rather be elsewhere and I refuse to have you distracting me from my game when for lack of interest in it you start fidgeting. Which I am certain Elrohir will take care of most fulsomely if you would only put yourself in his hands this very minute!” He pushed the prince in the direction of the residential wing. “Now go and give him a right welcome!”

Under the amused gazes of his sire and brethren, Legolas obeyed his friend and hastened to his and Elrohir's apartment, berating himself as he did. Gimli was right of course. He had not really desired to watch the match but his friend was newly come to the kingdom and, knowing how his family felt about Dwarves in general until very lately, he had not been certain how they would treat Gimli when he was not around. Thus the impulse to keep a protective eye on him. Which was a patently absurd notion. Gimli was a grown Dwarf and fully able to hold his own against anyone. And at the very least he should have explained his concern to Elrohir. The Elf-knight would have understood.

Now his mate would take his actions as a preference for his family and friend's company over his. Not that Elrohir ever begrudged him that occasional desire any more than Legolas took umbrage when the Elf-knight sometimes kept company with Elrond or Elladan instead of him. But this was the first evening of their reunion and it was natural for Elrohir to want Legolas to himself.

Legolas entered the apartment and hurried up the stairs. He found Elrohir reclining in bed, leafing through a book, clad in thin sleeping trousers. The Elf-knight looked up as he entered and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Do not tell me the game has already ended,” he remarked.

“Nay, it has not even started,” Legolas said.

“Then why are you here?”

Legolas blinked. “To be with you!”

Elrohir shook his head. “I care not for company offered out of a sense of obligation,” he snorted. “And even less if my company is not truly desired.”

“Elrohir-”

“I have never kept you from spending time with your family and I certainly am not about to begin now. Go back, Legolas. I will still be here when you return. I will always be here.”

Legolas stared at him, wondering at his ill humor. He had anticipated mild displeasure on Elrohir's part but not blatant testiness. It was not at all like the younger twin to be so easily upset. And then Elrohir's last sentence registered in full. Comprehension dawned on him. Elrohir's ire was not truly directed at him. It was not even ire at all that wracked the Elf-knight.

Unlike his father, Elrohir would meet Arwen again. In agreeing to move to Ithilien with Legolas, he would keep frequent company with his sister to the end of her now numbered days. Likely he alone of his family would be with her at the end. For Elladan had already declared that he could not bear to witness her passing from the world. Indeed the older twin would seldom visit Gondor again. More regular contact with Arwen would occur only if she accompanied Aragorn when he came north to visit Arnor.

An empathetic pang of grief smote the archer. Arwen's choice was not her burden alone to bear. Her family would carry it as well, her absence a never to be mended rent in the fabric of their lives. Of a sudden, he understood the depth of anguish they must have been concealing from all but those closest to them. Elrond and his sons would have turned to each other for comfort but, sharing the same grief, they would still have needed succor from others beyond their immediate circle. Elrond had likely found that in Glorfindel and Erestor, his most trusted friends, and Galvreth would have been Elladan's haven. But as had happened when the twins grieved over their mother's suffering, Legolas had once again not been at Elrohir's side when the Elf-knight needed him.

Legolas now regretted the wanderlust that blinded him to Elrohir's sorrow and kept him so long away. Startling Elrohir, he crept onto the bed and curled his arms around his mate, hugging him close.

“Forgive me, my love,” he whispered. “I failed you again. Forgive me.”

Elrohir drew back slightly and stared at him in puzzlement. “Failed me?”

“I left you alone when you most needed me,” Legolas said. “I should have realized what Arwen's choice cost you. I should not have travelled so far or long away from you but returned to comfort you soonest.”

Elrohir's eyes widened in astonishment. Surprise and confusion chased each other in his expression. He closed his eyes and leaning forward rested his head on Legolas' shoulder.

“I did not mean to…” he whispered. “I did not even realize…” He clutched at the archer's arms as a tremor raced through his tall frame. “I am sorry, Legolas. I wanted to be strong for Father and Elladan and I thought I had succeeded. But now I see that all I did was ignore my own feelings in order to tend to theirs. Do not apologize for what you had no knowledge of. 'Tis I who should ask forgiveness for venting on you what I hid from them.”

Legolas tightened his hold upon hearing that forlorn confession. “But I do owe you an apology,” he murmured. “It was remiss of me not to consider what effect Arwen's marriage to Aragorn would have on you. I should have anticipated your sorrow as you have always tried to do mine.”

Elrohir lifted his head and looked at him. “We have lived with her choice these many years,” he said. “You cannot be faulted for believing that we had come to terms with it.”

Legolas shook his head. “Her choice was not sealed until she wed Aragorn,” he pointed out. “You cannot deny that you all held on to the slim hope that perhaps ere too late she might yet repent of it. I should have seen that. But I did not and thus you suffered alone.” He brushed his mouth against Elrohir's to shush him when he would have spoken. “I cannot fill the place Arwen will leave behind. But I will try to help you bear its emptiness when the time comes. I will do my best to give you ease.”

The Elf-knight sighed and leaned back against the headboard, holding Legolas close. “There has never been a time when you did not,” he murmured. “Just knowing myself your love is enough to soothe my sore heart. I missed you terribly this past winter, calenlass, though I did not realize why the wanting was so much more than with other separations we have borne. But even had I known why, I still would not have had you forego your adventuring with Gimli. I do not want either of us to feel so obligated to each other that we fail to see to our own desires. That could only do a disservice to us and our bond.”

“Mayhap,” Legolas replied, conceding the point for the sake of accord between them. “But know that never have I deemed taking care of your needs mere duty. And I hope you feel thusly as well.”

“You know I do,” Elrohir softly said.

“No more talk then,” Legolas whispered. “Let us just enjoy each other.”

He pressed their mouths together, slipping his tongue past Elrohir's parted lips to lure the younger twin into a hungry kiss. Soon they were locked in a hot embrace, arms tight around each other, Legolas half seated on Elrohir's lap. The older twin slipped a hand down between them to loosen the archer's breech-laces. When they came undone, he slid his fingers around the swiftly swelling column of flesh within and freed it from its confines.

Legolas moaned approvingly as Elrohir languidly stroked him. He broke their kiss and dipped his head to press his lips to the Elf-knight's throat. Drawing a hissed breath at that sensual onslaught, Elrohir slipped his hand lower to cup and fondle the tender pouches beneath then allowed his fingers, glistening with Legolas' emergent seed, to wander until he reached the crease of his mate's backside. He recalled how so long ago he had once caressed his then adolescent love thusly and only stopped from proceeding further because of the archer's still tender years.

The renewed realization that never again would he ever need to inhibit himself from partaking of Legolas' favors set him afire with lust. He slid his fingers deep into that silken heat that had ever been his alone to enjoy. Legolas gasped and half reared as he felt himself summarily breached. But Elrohir held him fast and he perforce bore his mate's delving, whimpering as he was stroked within.

So skillful and intense were the Elf-knight's ministrations that he did not even need the direct stimulation of his shaft to come to completion. With a strangled cry, he spent himself, driven over the edge by the insistent press of Elrohir's fingers inside him. Shaking from his release, he allowed Elrohir to ease him down on the bed and strip him of his garments, the twin bending to taste what he uncovered - plying his lips, tongue and teeth on the archer's creamy throat and white shoulders, the shallow cleft and the rosy nipples that graced his brawny chest and the rippled wash of his taut belly down to the springy gold curls on his groin to the tops of his lean muscular thighs.

Legolas closed his eyes when moist lips closed around his shaft, gripping the sheet underneath him as he was avidly drawn upon. All these millennia of wedlock and still he was astounded that Elrohir could take so much pleasure in pleasuring him, frequently doing so ere finally seeking full release himself. But it was not really all that surprising for through the thorough ravishment of his beauteous mate, his own ecstasy rose to the very heights. And watching Legolas come undone a number of times at his hands lengthened his potency beyond the usual to ensure a great many couplings before the archer finally pled exhaustion and begged for a respite to their revels. Legolas sometimes employed the same measures to great effect when pillaging his darkling mate's graces but he far more enjoyed playing the sheath to the Elf-knight's sword. Given the breathtaking attention to which he was invariably subjected, perhaps that proclivity was not surprising either.

He groaned now as his legs were spread wider and Elrohir lowered his head to tend the flesh he would pierce many a time before the night was old. He deliriously wondered if there was any in all Middle-earth, Elf or Mortal, who could truly claim to be as intimately known to his or her mate as he was to Elrohir. The repeated dip of that wicked tongue into him was wit shattering to say the least and he suddenly desired to have a taste of his lover as well.

He desperately whispered his plea. With a rakish grin, Elrohir acquiesced and, shedding his trousers, shifted around and offered his turgid length to him. Legolas eagerly snaked his arms about the Elf-knight's hips and hungrily wrapped his lips around his mate's formidable length. Only momentarily distracted by that heated engulfment, Elrohir soon bent once more to his delectable task, alternating between suckling the archer's shaft and teasing him with the erotic plunge of his tongue. It was a heady experience even after all these centuries and they were soon caught in thrall to the rapture of their mutual pleasuring.

Completion overtook them soon enough and they spilled into each other's mouths. Panting from his climax, Legolas eyed Elrohir's shaft, noting that despite his release, the Elf-knight was not utterly spent just yet.

“I have always wondered,” he said, as Elrohir crept up to blanket him with his body. “Is it just you or is it your Peredhel blood that lends you such singular potency?”

“And how do you know 'tis all that singular?” Elrohir pointedly asked. “Have you seen evidence to the contrary in others to make a comparison?”

Legolas huffed a chuckle. “Are you jealous?” he smirked. “Since when have you taken to suspecting me of a roving eye? I thought 'twas my province to play the possessive lover.”

Elrohir smiled. “I have always been possessive of you, ernilen vain”-my beautiful prince-he murmured. “I just did not see the need to oft display it. However, certain events of late have made me realize that perhaps 'tis not wise to have you think I take your affections for granted.”

Legolas tenderly gazed at him. “I am yours and yours alone, seron vell”-beloved-he whispered. “I have never rued loving no other but you.” He smoothed his fingers over the sculpted angles, curves and planes of Elrohir's aristocratic features. “You bestowed your devotion on me though I was no more than a mere child with nothing to commend me to you save that I was my father's son. You chose me above all others and that is a blessing I am forever grateful for.”

“You chose me, too, Legolas,” Elrohir reminded him. “You had your pick of the best of your father's kingdom yet you cast your lot with this Half-elf from a foreign land. You gave me your love and gifted me with your innocence. Which is the greater blessing, I wonder?”

He leaned down and they kissed long and sweetly. The thought that he alone had ever lain with his golden spouse, that he alone had ever cleaved him and likewise been cleaved by him resonated through his mind with resounding force and he surged into full arousal once more. He craved their oneness like a drug and rejoiced that it was an addiction that would never be denied.

“On your knees, melethron”-lover-he huskily ordered. “I warrant you are as impatient to be filled as I am to fill you.”

Legolas mock glared at him for his impertinence but he wasted no time doing as he was bid, parting his legs in readiness even before Elrohir asked it of him. The Elf-knight grinned at his apparent eagerness then appreciatively ran his hands over that tight bottom before pushing his shaft home.

Long practice made for the ease of his entry but no amount of practice could ever blunt the feeling of extreme fullness bordering on discomfort for his archer love. Not when the flesh involved was of Peredhil girth. Legolas drew his breath in sharply as he was steadily impaled to the brim, quivering from the sensations wrought from that inward stroke. And when Elrohir began the long, driving thrusts he enjoyed, he moaned in utter bliss and raggedly begged his spouse to take him as hard and deep as he could.

Elrohir pressed his face into Legolas' hair as he buried himself in the archer's velvet core. He drew out their coupling, wishing to savor every sensation shared between them as they could not in their earlier nigh frenzied love-play. Now he listened to Legolas' every gasp and moan, allowed his lips and hands to linger wherever they alighted, enjoyed the sight of the play of muscles on his prince's sleek back as he arched into and pushed back against the incursions on his body. And, ah, the incomparable feeling of homecoming when snugly enclosed in his beloved's silk and warmth.

He reached around to curl his fingers around Legolas' fist and joined the prince in stroking his rigid length. The thought of sheathing that satin-bound knife in turn set his heart racing. Yearning to know his mate's steel after too long a parting, he quickened and further deepened his thrusts to bring them both all the sooner to completion and thus closer to his desire.

He heard his name hoarsely sobbed a moment before Legolas spilled himself. He was not long in following his spouse into ecstasy, caressed by the heated softness in which he was embedded. Clutching Legolas to his body, he felt rapture rip through him and culminate in the joyous melding of their spirits as searing as the coupling of their bodies.

Still joined, they lay on their sides, Legolas reluctant as always to part their bodies. Elrohir affectionately kissed one smooth shoulder while languorously running his hand over Legolas' alabaster skin now flushed from their loving. He smiled when he heard the prince's sigh of contentment.

“The night is still young,” he said, lightly nibbling the tip of the archer's ear.

Legolas wriggled with pleasure and turned his head to kiss his mate. “So it is,” he murmured against Elrohir's lips. “Have your way with me, rochiren. Undo me as you desire.”

Elrohir chuckled. “Such a lusty Elf you have turned out to be,” he remarked. “And exceedingly wanton, too.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“Nay, 'tis high praise.”

He pressed his groin against Legolas' bottom, allowing the archer to feel the full extent of his resurgent arousal. Legolas groaned with bliss. When Elrohir unexpectedly withdrew from him, he glanced back with a fearsome scowl. Elrohir softly laughed.

“So impatient,” he teased as he turned Legolas on his back and slipped his arms behind the prince's knees. “I merely wish to see your face as I take you, dear one. There is no more comely sight in all creation than your joy when our bodies are joined.” He parted Legolas' legs, pressing them back to further ease his way.

His stated intention elicited a radiant smile and Legolas eagerly opened himself to his mate's sensual charge. “Have me, Elrohir,” he crooned as he was slowly breached. “Have me as oft as you wish.”

“And will you have me, too?” Elrohir whispered as he sank fully into his writhing lover. “I long to know your steel once more, Legolas.”

“Ere the night is done, you will know it well,” Legolas promised. His breathing harshened as thick flesh repeatedly slid into him. “I swear neither of us will care to sit for long come morn,” he declared, gasping in delight at a particularly deep thrust.

Elrohir groaned as he was gripped in turn by silk-wrapped strength and heat. He gazed at his prince's countenance, all aglow with love and the certitude that he was loved.

“I will hold you to that promise,” he said and applied himself to fulfilling his part of the pact.

**********

Elrond and the twins and the twins' woodland mates departed Eryn Lasgalen in mid-autumn, a fortnight after Gimli sought his own home of Erebor. Thranduil and his remaining sons watched them go with melancholy.

Partings would be the rule from hereon. They knew they would not be seeing Elrond again; not until they sailed West in the still distant future. And they would not have Galvreth and Legolas' company for much longer either for both would sail with Elrond's sons and that would come soon after the passing of a mortal king. None of them could expect much longer beyond a century at most. And while Galvreth might yet visit his father's kingdom with comforting frequency, the same could not be said of Legolas once he moved to Ithilien. The great distance and length of travel involved would preclude much journeying to and fro.

They saw them off with the feeling that time was running out not only on their family's togetherness but also on the very existence of the Wood-elves in Middle-earth. They would delay leaving these Hither Lands, these hardy folk of the forests who did not heed the ancient summons of the Valar. And many would never leave at all.

Thranduil already grieved for these stubborn ones of his people who would not sail and would be sundered forever from their kindred once the last ships departed Middle-earth's shores. He knew his kinsman Celeborn struggled with the same grief for there were Galadhrim aplenty who would not follow either their lady or their lord over Sea. They would remain in the deeps of their forest homes to dwindle and eventually fade and become no more than the stuff of myths and children's tales to generations of Men yet to be born.

The Elvenking swallowed past the tightness in his throat as he saw his departing sons lift their hands in farewell ere they vanished down the elven path with their mates. He turned his head when his shoulder was clasped and met Aelluin's steadfast gaze.

“'Tis not the last we shall see of them, Ada”-Papa-he smiled albeit a little crookedly. “And even were it our last meeting in Middle-earth, we shall still come together again in the West. All of us, including Naneth and Haldoron and Grandsire. Is that not cause for rejoicing?”

Thrandul returned the smile, proud all over again of this so very satisfactory son of his. “Mayhap I should depart sooner,” he mused. “That you might wear the crown for a while.”

Aelluin snorted at the idea. “I have never sought to be king though I would take on the mantle if need be,” he said. “To be crowned means to lose you as you lost Grandsire, and that I dread. I am content to be your son as we all are.”

A murmur of agreement seconded his declaration. The others gathered around - Elivorn, Nimaras and Lalorn and their wives - linking arms in solidarity with each other. Gilthalion took the hand Aelluin extended to him and inclined his head in respect to the Elf he had served as soldier and law-son for years uncounted. Thranduil felt the weight in his heart lift somewhat.

“This is not the end but a new beginning, Ada,” Nimaras chimed in confidently. “I wager it shall be an adventure worth a page or two in the annals of history.”

Thranduil lifted his eyes and turned them westward for a moment. A warm smile slowly curved his lips and he looked at his sons. “And knowing you rogues, I wager it will take more than a page or two,” he shot back. “Indeed, a whole book may not suffice!”

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

Glossary:

ethuil - Sindarin for spring

calenlass - green leaf

rochiren - my knight

To be concluded…
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness