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Greenleaf & Imladris 12 - Prelude to Grief	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 5841 -:- 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
- 4
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Part V: Unbidden

The twins, Arwen and Legolas gathered in Elrond’s study, wondering why he had summoned them so suddenly that evening. They became even more curious when Glorfindel and Erestor joined them, their fair faces bleak; it was apparent that they knew what this was all about. But before they could question either counsellor, Elrond walked in.

Arwen could not help a soft exclamation of alarm at first sight of her father. Elrond looked spent and drawn, his eyes red-rimmed. And he had not bothered to don his customary robes of office. Clad in a simple tunic and breeches, he appeared more the warrior Elf of yore rather than the august Lord of Imladris.

“Ada”—Papa—what is it?” she asked worriedly. “You look exhausted.”

“Are those welts on your face?” Elladan suddenly interrupted.

Elrond sighed and raised his hand to absently touch the crimson marks on his cheek. He said: “Your mother assaulted me unwittingly.”

The younger Elves gasped in shock. “Nana did that to you?” Arwen said disbelievingly.

“She did not know what she was doing,” Elrond explained. “She is finding it more and more difficult to cope with her fears.” His gaze swept over his daughter and the twins. A spare glance at Legolas prompted the Mirkwood prince to move closer to Elrohir. “She is weary beyond bearing,” he said. “There is nothing more I can do for her. She...is fading.”

His utterance cast a pall over his children. Though they had long suspected that this might come to pass, it was still difficult to actually hear the words confirming it. But they were not surprised. They had seen the signs.

She’d fought valiantly to regain her old vivaciousness. Her struggle had been painfully apparent to all. No one could doubt the courage and determination of the Lady of Imladris. But in the end, it was to no avail.

The days of torture had altered something in her. Elrond’s children had seen the steady diminishment of the light in her eyes, comprehended as winter passed that things would never be the same again. That she would never be the same again.

Their mother’s incandescence had dimmed, her innocence completely shattered. What was lost could not be restored.

“You have healed so many others,” Arwen said imploringly. “Can you not help her?”

Elrond flinched inwardly at his daughter’s plea but he carefully concealed it. He could not break down before them now.

“There is no healing for her,” he quietly replied. He hesitated as he came to the meat of the matter. “At least, not here.”

Elrohir jerked his head up. “Then where, Ada?” he demanded.

Elrond gazed at his younger son. The Elf-knight’s eyes were positively ablaze with apprehension. He looked at the others, noted Arwen’s wide-eyed stare, Elladan’s paled features, Legolas’ wondering frown. At an encouraging nod from Erestor, he drew a deep breath and replied.

“In Valinor.”

His children’s stunned expressions struck him like a physical blow. Glorfindel swiftly reached out a hand to steady him and he glanced at his friend gratefully.

“Nay,” Elrohir objected. “You cannot mean to do this!”

“I – we have no choice.”

“How could you have decided this without consulting us?”

“Elrohir—” Elladan cautioned.

“This will split our family asunder!”

“Do you think I have not considered that?” Elrond countered. At Elrohir’s almost furious glare, he raised a supplicating hand. “I am loath to take this path,” he said. “She and I have never been parted for longer than a few months since our binding beneath the eaves of Lórien. She is my light, gwanneth.”—younger twin. “My life’s meaning.” Elrond let out a sorrowful sigh. “But to save her I must let her go. ‘Tis the price I must pay if by it she may be made whole once more. ”

Elrohir bit his lip then bowed his head. “I am sorry, Ada,” he whispered contritely. Legolas clasped his shoulder in mute sympathy.

“As am I,” Elrond said quietly. “I wish I could make this easier for all of you. If only—” He visibly trembled.

Elladan looked at him with pain-filled eyes. “When will she leave?” he asked, his voice fraught with sorrow.

“Come spring,” Elrond said. “‘Twould be best for her not to delay her departure.” He stopped, seeing their renewed shock.

“So soon?” Arwen protested. “Can she not stay a while longer?”

Elrond shook his head. “She will not last if she remains much longer in these lands. Only in the Blessed Realm might she find peace and wholeness.”

“Might?” Elrohir asked sharply.

“There are no guarantees,” Elrond admitted. “But her chances of recovery will be far greater there than were she to linger here. To stay will only hasten her fading. I will not lose her to the Halls of Awaiting. Not while I still draw breath.” He spared them one last grieving gaze then said: “I must go back to her.”

He hurriedly left the room. For several minutes his children could only look at each other in speechless disbelief.

“I never imagined it would come to this,” Elladan softly said, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

On the verge of speaking, Arwen broke into sobs instead. She sank into Elladan’s arms, weeping heartbrokenly. The older twin held her tightly, channeling all his strength into comforting her despite the anguish in his own heart. But Elrohir did not go near them. Instead, he stood and walked to the wide window behind his father’s desk and stared out at the stark landscape. Legolas watched him worriedly. The younger twin’s eyes had been veiled but the prince had glimpsed something terrible in their depths, what, he did not know.

After a few minutes, Glorfindel rose to go to him but as soon as Elrohir became aware of his approach, he drew in a ragged breath, spun on his heel and fled the study. The others exchanged glances of consternation. Elladan would have followed but Legolas swiftly forestalled him.

“Arwen needs you now,” he said. “I will see to Elrohir.”

Elladan nodded and went back to his sister. Legolas, on the other hand, hastened after the other twin. Questions placed to various servants and retainers yielded the information that Elrohir had gone to his bedchamber. Coming to the door of the twin’s room, Legolas knocked on it. When silence greeted him, he decided to enter with or without the warrior’s permission. He stepped in and halted on the threshold.

The Elf-knight was seated on the low, wide divan below his window, leaning back against the glazed panes, half turned to stare into the twilight. He was hugging himself as if to still the trembling that wracked his body. Tears streamed down his pallid cheeks but no sound escaped his quivering lips.

Legolas shut the door behind him and swiftly went to his friend. Kneeling before him, he took the other’s hands in his, tugging at them until Elrohir turned to look at him. The argent eyes were brilliant with tears yet strangely dulled with sorrow. The sight nearly broke Legolas’ heart.

“We failed her,” the words spilled numbly from the twin’s lips. “We did not get to her in time.”

Legolas shook his head vehemently. “Nay, Elrohir, you did not fail her,” he firmly objected. “Do not blame yourself for this.”

Elrohir stared at him blankly. And then the blankness was replaced by sheer anguish. “Elladan and I were supposed to accompany her to Lórien,” he bitterly said. “But then you sent word that you might visit and I begged off.”

Legolas caught his breath. Suddenly, Elrohir’s behavior made so much sense. The Elf-knight continued, his voice harsh with self-recrimination. “Elladan said ‘twas wrong to change our plans when there was no surety of your coming but I refused to hearken to him. Then Mother bade him stay because she knew we did not like being apart overlong.” His eyes glistened with remorseful tears. “Elladan was right. I should have done my duty. Had we been with her, we might have prevented this from happening.”

“More likely you would have been killed or grievously injured as Erestor was,” Legolas countered gently. "'Twas not your fault, gwador.”—sworn brother. “You could not have saved her anymore than I could have saved my own naneth.”—mother.

He looked down at the hands in his. Powerful, supple warrior’s hands. Yet they now shook helplessly as Elrohir struggled with his desolation. Legolas felt the cold that clutched at his friend’s heart, knew it for the chill of grief and guilt and despair. Letting go, he threw his arms around the twin instead, holding him close, urging him to lean his head upon his shoulder. He felt Elrohir wrap his arms around him in return, clasping him tightly as if he feared to lose him.

The Elf-knight’s next words proved his suspicion true. “Do not leave me, Calenlass,” Elrohir said brokenly. “I could not bear to lose you, too.”

“I would never leave you!” Legolas exclaimed softly. “You are my heart’s brother. I cannot conceive of life without you at my side.”

The twin shuddered in his arms. Drawing back slightly, he peered into the silvery pools anxiously. Elrohir gazed back at him, his eyes blurred with grief. And then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Legolas’ mouth. It was a soft, brief kiss, almost a chaste one, yet it caused the archer’s heart to skip a beat. He stared at Elrohir in surprise. The darkling Elf flushed and looked away,

“I am sorry,” he whispered.

Legolas hesitated then raised his hands to cup Elrohir’s face, compelling him to look at him. Gazing into the depths of the twilight eyes, he comprehended his friend’s need. Mere lust alone had not impelled the kiss; there was also a hunger for warmth, comfort and affection to dispel the cold that had taken hold of his spirit.

The memory of that passionate Mirkwood week recalled itself to the prince’s mind. He shivered, remembering in graphic detail what had passed between him and his friend. Unbidden, he felt his body react to the memories and he swallowed with some difficulty. He had never really come to terms with his improbable response to Elrohir’s pleasuring. Just the thought of lying with the Elf-knight once more was enough to set off a volatile mix of emotions he had yet to truly understand.

But the need in his friend’s eyes was all too compelling. He could not deny the other the solace he so desperately craved in this dark time. Resolved, Legolas cast aside his doubts and reservations once more for the sake of a friendship he treasured above everything else. He lowered his hands and began to undo the ties on the twin’s shirt.

“Let me warm you,” he murmured.

For a moment, Elrohir stared at him incredulously, but at his shy, acquiescing smile, the warrior drew in a steadying breath and likewise reached to disrobe his friend.

When they were both unclothed, the twin pulled the archer onto the divan to lie beside him. For a long while, they remained thus, the twin bestowing tender kisses upon the archer’s lips, cheeks and throat. Content to simply hold his friend close, he let his hands remain still upon Legolas’ flank and back.

The prince quickly discovered that the potency of Elrohir’s kisses had not diminished in all these centuries. They were still as seductive and sweet and irresistible as he remembered. Lulled by the slow, sensuous exploration, he opened up to the Elf-warrior; parted his lips and allowed the reaches of his mouth to be tenderly pillaged, lifted his chin to ease the passage of gently suckling lips as they followed the pale curve of his throat.

Slowly, Legolas’ warmth penetrated the chill in Elrohir’s spirit until he no longer trembled from it. The awful grief began to subside to be replaced by a kinder sorrow. He still felt the sadness of his family’s imminent sundering but it no longer filled him with dread and despair. Before very long, the cold all but dissipated. But with its abatement came the gradual, inevitable rise in passion.

Warmth turned into heat, the gentle kisses gave way to deep, breath-stealing caresses, the motionless hands began to roam and touch and feel. Legolas gasped as Elrohir reached down between them to gently cup and caress him, groaned as agile fingers stroked his shaft to throbbing hardness, grasped convulsively at the warrior’s powerful arms when he pressed their groins together, bringing their hot, swollen members into sensuous, rapturous contact.

Before he could form another thought, he found himself lying beneath Elrohir, quivering under the twin’s knowing hands and lips. As before, he could not help the instinctive responses the warrior evoked in him. His throaty moans evinced the inexorable arousal of his body even as his mind steadily lost all grasp of lucidity.

Close to a millennium had passed since they’d last lain together yet he felt the same wild thrill pass through his being at every evocative kiss and touch and whispered word. His breath continued to quicken as Elrohir slowly but ardently reclaimed him, proving all too plainly how well he knew Legolas’ body and its needs.

As Legolas’ slender frame trembled beneath him, Elrohir could only wonder at the blessing the Valar had bestowed upon him a second time. He’d never thought to touch or taste, let alone take his Greenleaf once more. Despite Legolas’ assurance that he would always be there for him, Elrohir had not approached him again for intimacy in the close to nine hundred years that had followed that first time. Much as he’d secretly desired to do so, he’d simply felt it unacceptable to impose upon his dearest friend once again. Instead, he’d resolutely held on to the memories of that enchanted week in Mirkwood and resolved to content himself with them.

Now, more than mere remembrance was within his reach and coming so close on the heels of his sorrow, it was all the more poignant and precious to him. Once more, he committed to memory each and every moment of joy and rapture. He doubted he would be so blessed again and therefore added them to his precious store of treasured recollections.

Legolas shuddered as Elrohir drew out each and every caress. Whether he was licking the pale column of his throat, sucking his now achingly hard nipples or enclosing the blatant evidence of his arousal in the moist heat of his mouth, there was a purposefulness to the twin’s every action that both mystified and enthralled him. Even the moment of his completion was closely attended to as the warrior deliberately milked him dry of his seed.

Drained by such edacious suckling, Legolas only woozily registered the pillow that was gently slipped under his hips; barely noted that his legs had been spread wide open. Thus he was jolted when Elrohir pressed into him with his tongue, shocked that even that part of his body did not escape the Elf-knight’s attentions. Elrohir’s tongue dipped into him repeatedly, shallowly at first, then steadily intensifying until the twin was delving deeply into him, evoking delicious sensations with every plunge, causing Legolas’ breath to quicken unevenly. But the shock at being explored so intimately soon gave way to a fast burgeoning arousal and with it a desperate need to bring the delicious torment to its inevitable conclusion.

By the time Elrohir slid into him, he was more than ready for it. His whole body cried out for it, begged for the relief only a joining with the younger twin could bring. In spite of his earlier release, he did not feel quite complete until he felt Elrohir sheathed deeply within him. It confounded him that he should feel this way but he soon ceased to think about it at all when Elrohir brought his body back to full arousal.

And then they were rocking together in a motion as ancient as love itself. Unsettled by his body’s eager capitulation to Elrohir’s allure and skill, Legolas reached out blindly with one hand and found it caught in Elrohir’s reassuring grip. A moment later, he felt the warrior’s other hand caressing his turgid shaft, gently and slowly at first, then increasing in intensity and speed until finally, finally, the archer sobbed out his surrender and shuddered his release between them. It was but scant seconds later that he felt the warm gush of Elrohir’s seed within him, the sensation heightened by his instinctive clenching of his muscles around the twin’s proud length.

They collapsed together, Elrohir resting his dark head upon Legolas’ chest. For several minutes they lay quietly, waiting for their minds and bodies to calm down. It was then that Legolas heard the Elf-knight’s whispered, “Thank you.” A pause and then a hushed and hesitant confession followed. “I have missed this.”

Legolas swallowed hard. The admission was daunting to say the least, illustrating as it did all too clearly that Elrohir’s passion for him had not truly waned. But he was not certain what unnerved him more--his friend’s continued desire for him or his body’s readiness to accommodate that desire.

Elrohir raised his head at his silence and espied his unease. He bit his lower lip regretfully. “I should not have let you do this,” he murmured.

Legolas moved swiftly to blunt the other’s remorse. “Nay, you needed me,” he said softly. “You needed this. I do not regret it and I would not have you do so either.” He gently pulled the Elf-knight back down and stroked the midnight silk of his hair. “I promised I would be there for you for as long as you need me. You know I never break my promises.”

He felt Elrohir shift his head to look up at him and he turned to meet the other’s gaze. The twilight eyes gleamed with gratitude and affection. “Then I am truly blessed,” the Elf-knight quietly said.

Legolas smiled and curled his other arm around his friend.

********

Elladan reached out, trying to sense his brother. Arwen was quieter now. Yet he did not dare leave her nor did he wish to. His sister felt so fragile in his arms, as if she would break if he were to release her. But he was also concerned for Elrohir.

Despite their twinship, it was no easy matter to connect with Elrohir at a distance. Especially if his brother was unaware of the effort to make the connection. Thus, it was not Elrohir’s conscious thoughts that Elladan gained but his overflowing emotions.

The abundance and profundity of feeling that washed over the older twin nearly overwhelmed him. In that instant, he knew what had just occurred. He drew in a shaky breath.

Arwen stirred in his arms and looked up, eyes now calm though still red and teary.

“I am all right now, tôr iuar”—older brother—she whispered. "Thank you. Mayhap you should go to Elrohir.”

Elladan shook his head. “Nay, there is no need. Legolas has more than adequately comforted him.”

Arwen gazed at him curiously, wondering at his odd use of the past tense. Not to mention the strange gleam in his stormy blue eyes. “How do you know—?”

He placed a finger against her lips and granted her a sage smile. “We’re twins, remember?”

She looked at him skeptically, not quite convinced that was all there was to it. But Elladan hugged her close once more and she desisted from pressing for more.

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

Glossary:

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

To be continued…
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Greenleaf & Imladris 12 - Prelude to Grief