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Greenleaf & Imladris 7 - Forbidden Fruit	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 3382 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 4
- 5
- 6
Part V

Sirgon watched as Legolas and the twins came out of the delved halls to join the hunting party gathered outside. But then the prince’s eyes fell upon him and he suddenly frowned and halted in his tracks. A moment later, he was in retreat, attempting to draw the brethren along with him. But the two held back and were seen to discuss something with him. Sirgon flushed painfully. He did not know what Elladan and Elrohir were saying to Legolas but he knew full well why the archer had sought to turn back.

It was now a full week since their ill-starred encounter. In all that time, Legolas had assiduously avoided him. Sirgon could not blame him. What he had done, what he had confessed, had placed a barrier between them.

A murmur of surprise startled him out of his musings and he glanced up to see the brethren part with the prince and continue on their way to join the hunters. That was highly unusual. When visiting the Woodland Realm, neither Elladan nor Elrohir ever took part in patrols or hunts without Legolas. While one or the other of the twins might forego the prince’s company on occasion, for both to do so was very rare. Most of the time, the three of them were virtually inseparable.

The party set off. The stock of meats in the palace larder was running low and they were tasked to bring home enough game for the next five days or so. Part of the bounty would be cured or dried for future use. The rest would be cooked while still fresh, which meant there would be some feasting upon the hunters’ return.

A day’s passage proved gratifying for the party. By nightfall, they had brought down two stags, one wild boar and a variety of smaller game such as rabbit, pheasant and quail. In the morning, they moved on in search of more prey, leaving a few Elves to guard and prepare the cache for transport back to the palace.

Sirgon noted the twins’ continued dislike of Mirkwood’s darkness. He could only imagine how different the closeness of the forest was from Rivendell. He wondered what Legolas’ demeanor must be like when visiting the hidden vale. He lost himself in his thoughts while he walked. But as the images he conjured skimmed through his mind, the impossibility of his situation came home to him anew and he bit his lip as fresh pain washed over him.

“Can you not put him out of your mind, mellonen?”—my friend?

He started visibly at the sound of Elladan’s voice, so deep had he been in his thoughts that he’d failed to note the twin’s approach.

“I—you—you know—” he stuttered.

Elladan nodded. “Would you care to talk about it?’ he offered kindly. “It might give you ease.”

Sirgon stared at the Imladrin prince, unsure and a little suspicious. But he saw nothing but compassion and understanding in Elladan’s blue-tinged grey eyes. He dropped his stare, shamed that he should have imputed anything base in the other’s motives for seeking him out.

“I have not...not spoken of this to anyone,” he admitted.

“Not even Heledir and Mithrael?”

“They would not understand. Heledir would be horrified and Mithrael... he knows of such things but he does not accept them either.”

“You feel alone in this.”

“Aye. And even more so now that Legolas has withdrawn from me.” He drew in a shuddery breath. “I should not have told him. ‘Twas foolish of me.”

Elladan shook his head. “I wish I could tell you otherwise but, aye, it would have been better had you kept your peace. At least, until such time when these passions are accepted here once more.”

Sirgon glanced at him curiously. “Think you they will be?”

“What is true to our nature cannot be suppressed forever. Sooner or late, your people will find their way back to the path, will they, nill they. But there is no telling when that will happen.” He regarded the forlorn Elf gravely. “Still, you could have waited for a more opportune time. Prudence is of the essence when dealing with delicate matters.”

“I realize that now,” Sirgon admitted dolefully. “But after so many years, I’d forgotten that the ways of Mirkwood differed from the ways of Lórien. I came to think them akin since they are both realms of Wood-elves.”

Elladan shook his head. “You forget that this kingdom was never under the influence of the Noldor. Indeed, Lord Thranduil and his father before him never trusted those who came back to Middle-earth from Aman. Even Celeborn, their own kinsman, could not persuade them otherwise. ‘Tis only in this age that friendship has been forged between the Woodland Realm and Imladris.”

“But I do not understand why Mirkwood’s culture in this matter can have diverged so much from that of Imladris, Lórien or Mithlond.”

“Did I not just point out that Mirkwood was never under a Noldorin lord? The High Kindred brought their culture back with them to Middle-earth in the First Age and, in realms where they held sway, it took hold and grew deep roots.”

“But not in Greenwood.”

Elladan shrugged. “Your people have had little to do with the Eldar for the most part. And the King’s father, Oropher, hated the Noldor with a vengeance. You cannot expect him to have allowed what he called ‘Golodh corruption’ to taint his people in any way. ‘Tis nothing short of a miracle that his son decided to establish links with Imladris.”

“But the Lórien Elves are also of Silvan stock yet they follow the ancient path.”

Elladan said: “Lothlorien’s lord may be a Sinda but he is wed to a Noldorin lady whom he not only worships but takes much counsel from. The rulers of a realm can greatly influence its culture.”

Sirgon considered the older twin’s words then sighed with resignation. “Not that any of it matters. Even were he inclined towards his own kind, Legolas does not return my feelings. He is fated for someone else, I see that now.”

“I sympathize with you, Sirgon,” Elladan said. “I know how hard it is to love and not have it returned. But it is also hard to turn away one whom you know cares for you and inflict pain upon a loving heart. I have done so myself many a time and it never gets easier.”

Sirgon considered the twin’s words. Something told him that Elladan was not only referring to his many love affairs but particularly to experiences alike to his own

“Have you...have you ever bedded a male Elf, hîr nîn?”—my lord—he asked shyly.

Elladan shrugged. “Several. I first lay with another ellon because ‘twas supposed to be enjoyable.”

“And did you?” Sirgon asked cautiously. “Enjoy it, I mean.”

“Ai, immensely,” Elladan grinned. “‘Twas most pleasurable in fact. I suppose I was fortunate that my first lovers were greatly skilled; one of them even persuaded me to yield to him. That was a feat I must say for ‘tis not my nature to submit to any,” he chuckled in fond reminiscence. He looked at the other Elf and noted how scarlet he had become. “You know of what I speak. I take it you have some experience in this?”

“In Lórien,” Sirgon admitted. “'Twas there that I realized where my preferences lay.” Still flushed, he asked: “Are you and Lord Elrohir alike in such...matters?”

The Elf-lord glanced in the direction of his brother and smiled fondly. “My twin is as inclined toward pleasurable experiences as I am but he is even more proud. To my knowledge, he has never allowed any to take him. Mayhap if we loved any of our partners we would be more willing to play the sheath to the sword.”

Sirgon blushed anew at the Elf-lord’s frankness. Elladan smiled understandingly. “Do not mind me, I have always been brutally honest about such matters.” He tilted his head curiously at his companion. “What you said earlier? Have you no liking for females at all?”

Sirgon shook his head. “None,” he admitted. “I thought myself strange until I saw that ‘twas regarded as natural in Lórien. Now that I look back, I realize ‘twas the one thing that made me happy there. That I could be free in this. Yet I yearned for Greenwood, remembering my childhood.”

“Even if you knew you would not be as free?”

“I did not think of that. I only wished to see my old friends again. To know the joy I’d shared with them as we grew up together.”

“You could not foresee that you would turn your eyes to one of them in a much different manner,” Elladan said gently.

Sirgon swallowed painfully. “He has changed since the days of our childhoods. I could not help myself.”

Elladan sighed. “Legolas does not wish for your friendship to end. But he is uncomfortable now that he is aware of how you feel about him.”

“I know,” Sirgon said in a low sad voice. “If I could take back my words and actions I would. Better to have suffered in silence than to endure his rejection.”

Elladan laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I have no ready solution to give you. But I am willing to listen if you need a sympathetic ear, as is Elrohir. He, too, would offer you comfort if you would but ask it of him.”

Sirgon smiled wanly. “I have wronged both of you,” he said. “I hope you will forgive me.”

“’There is no need for apologies. ‘Tis natural to feel jealous of those who you think hold your beloved’s heart.”

"'Twas not only that which I envied,” Sirgon admitted. “I was also jealous of your closeness to him. ‘Tis closer than any he has with the friends he grew up with. I did not realize how much you and he had shared while I was away.”

Elladan was about to reply when he suddenly felt the hair on his nape rising. His eyes glittered and he spun on his heel. “Yrch!”—Orcs!—he hissed, alerting the others. In scant seconds, the Elves coalesced into a cohesive fighting unit, bows ready and swords drawn. Elrohir was by his twin’s side in a flash. They vanished into the foliage to await their foes.

The minutes passed. The sound of heavy treads echoed through the dense growth. Suddenly a horde of foul creatures brandishing black blades crashed through the trees.

The Elves launched their ambush without further ado.

*********

Word of the battle reached the Woodland Realm a day before the hunters returned. The orcs had been vanquished, their remains dragged into a clearing and burned to rid the forest of their stench. But there had been a price to the victory. While there were no casualties, many of the hunters had been wounded. And at least one, gravely so.

Elladan and Elrohir themselves helped bear Sirgon’s litter back to the royal halls. The Elf had suffered a knife wound to his abdomen. It was deep and wide but it should not have been fatal given his elven stamina and strength. Except that the knife had been poisoned and Sirgon had not mentioned to either twin when they ministered to him that the wound burned with uncommon intensity. By the time they discovered the severity of his condition, the toxin had spread and caused much internal damage and Sirgon had fallen victim to systemic failure.

They’d returned with him as swiftly as possible to get him into the hands of Thranduil’s healers. Though they were not sanguine about his chances of survival, they still held to the hope that the healers with their formidable skills and complete stock of medicaments might still pull him through.

Legolas met them as they approached the great cave. He blanched upon seeing the state of their cargo. Wordlessly, he led them to the healing rooms and helped transfer Sirgon to a bed in one of the chambers. Then they all waited outside for the healers’ verdict.

It was grim. The poison, a most potent one, had already infiltrated nearly every organ in the immediate vicinity of the wound. There was nothing they could do. Sirgon was dying. He would not last through the night.

They looked in on him but he did not know it. The healers had given him a sleeping draught to ease the pain. They departed for their own chambers with heavy hearts.

*********

Legolas slipped back into Sirgon’s chamber near midnight, sending the healer on duty away. He had not been able to sleep. The thought of his dying friend had nagged at him insistently. In this moment, he forgot about Sirgon’s forbidden love for him and only recalled that the Elf was his friend, one who had shared the years of his childhood with him.

He sat by him, fearfully wondering how near to death he was or if he was even still alive. His face was pallid, his lips closer to blue than the color of flesh and his breathing so indiscernible that, to a non-healer, it seemed he drew no breath at all. Legolas held the other’s hand and stroked it gently. The fingers quivered against his palm. Heartened, he leaned over and sought for signs of consciousness in his friend.

“Sirgon?”

The lids fluttered open. For a moment, Sirgon dimly stared at him.

“Legolas...”

“How do you feel?” the prince softly asked.

“Do the...dead feel...anything?”

“Hush, do not say such things.”

Sirgon swallowed painfully. “Will you...forgive...me?”

“For what? For loving me?” Legolas sighed. “‘Tis I who should apologize. I forsook you when you needed me most.”

Sirgon weakly shook his head. “Cannot...blame you.” He tried to smile. “Am glad...you came. See you...one last...time.”

Legolas felt his throat tighten. He could not refute Sirgon’s words. This was indeed the last time they would see each other. By morning, the other Elf would be within the Halls of Waiting.

He suddenly realized Sirgon was looking at him with profound emotion. There was no longer any reason to hide what he felt. Legolas winced as he espied grief mingled with love in the depths of his friend’s fading eyes. How to ease his passing? Dampen his sorrow? Legolas did not want him to leave this life bearing the anguish of cruel rejection.

Gathering his courage, he bent and pressed a kiss to Sirgon’s chilled lips. It was the most hesitant of caresses, more chaste than chaste in its lightness. But Sirgon, with a surge of strength, claimed it hungrily. Legolas was shocked but managed to control himself. He stifled the impulse to recoil, clamped down hard on the repugnance that rose within him. Now was not the time to let Sirgon feel rejected anew.

He allowed Sirgon to touch him, let him draw his faltering hands down his arms and torso. So focused was he on stilling his instinct to shrink from the caresses that he did not notice the two figures that paused at the entrance to the chamber.

The twins gazed in astonishment. An instant later, they understood what Legolas was trying to do. Elladan felt a mixture of sadness and relief. At least, Sirgon would not go into the dark without some comfort, he told himself. He glanced at Elrohir then started and stared at his brother.

Elrohir had the most peculiar expression on his face. Elladan did not know what to make of it. The younger twin had paled and there was an alarming glitter in his eyes. Anger? Dismay? Yes, but at what? He looked back at Legolas. The prince had moved to support Sirgon as the latter buried his face in the crook of his neck. Then Sirgon sought his lips once more and Legolas acquiesced. Elladan looked back at Elrohir. Was his brother angry with them? Elrohir suddenly drew in a sharp breath and shivered. Nay, Elladan realized, he is angry with and dismayed at himself. But why?

He was about to ask what was wrong when Elrohir glanced down the dimly lit corridor then took his arm and whispered: “Let us go. The king is approaching.”

“What of it?”

The younger twin simply shook his head and insistently drew him into a dark recess along the hallway. After a few minutes, Thranduil reached the chamber door. The king made to enter only to stop at the threshold and stare at what was occurring inside. He was seen to stiffen but he held his peace. He remained where he was, continuing to watch his youngest son.

Elladan comprehended the wisdom of his brother’s actions. Thranduil was patently uncomfortable with what Legolas had chosen to do to console Sirgon in his last moments. Not that he would stop his son; the king was no unfeeling tyrant. But he would not be pleased to know others had seen the same thing. It was best to spare him further discomfort.

After what seemed like eternity, Legolas came out of the chamber. He stopped when he saw his father standing there. A question passed silently between them and the prince nodded sadly. Thranduil held his arms out and Legolas slipped into them, letting his father’s comforting warmth ease his sorrow. The king led him away.

The twins emerged from their concealment. A peek into Sirgon’s chamber revealed a still, unbreathing figure upon the bed. With regretful sighs, the brethren departed as well.

To be continued...
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Greenleaf & Imladris 7 - Forbidden Fruit