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Greenleaf & Imladris 13 - The Choices We Must Make	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 5831 -:- 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
- 7-Part 7
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- 6
Part V

Mirkwood, laer TA 2782

The two Elves darted swiftly through the treetops, nimbly leaping from one branch to another, running along leafy limbs scarcely larger than the circumferences of their own arms, occasionally swinging down from towering giants to their less lofty cousins. So graceful were they and so easy did they make the exercise appear that any mortal being not well-versed in the varied elven kindreds, who witnessed their exuberant play, might be led to believe it a skill common to all the Firstborn.

They came to the great clearing before the halls of the Elvenking of Northern Mirkwood. Without missing a beat, the two dropped to the ground simultaneously, landing with feline lightness and precision. The golden-haired Elf glanced at his grey-eyed companion; they both burst into merry laughter. Still chuckling, Legolas slipped an arm through Elrohir’s and began to lead him towards his father’s delved palace.

Both were clothed in the green and brown of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm. But while Legolas sported the flowing tresses and tiny braids of a Mirkwood warrior, Elrohir could have passed for one of the horse-lords of Rohan with his single thick plait were it not for his dark tresses, the age-old wisdom in his eyes and his uncommon beauty.

“You are as agile and sure-footed as any Wood-elf, gwador”—sworn brother—Legolas praised his friend.

The warrior smiled, pleased with the compliment. “‘Tis due to our stays in Lórien I warrant,” he said. “Elladan and I have frequented the Golden Wood far more oft than we used to these past many years.”

“So fortunate for the Galadhrim to have had the pleasure of your company then,” Legolas remarked a little tartly. “And obviously a goodly helping of it.”

Elrohir’s smile faded. It was but five years since Legolas’ visit to Rivendell. In that time, the prince had not been sanguine that the twins would be able to keep their promise to come to Mirkwood before long. He’d therefore been delighted when he received word of their imminent arrival. At Elrohir’s request, Arwen had shortened her stay in Lothlórien and returned to the vale to keep their father company.

Legolas had been well pleased that they’d been able to keep their promise to him. But it was also apparent, as Elrohir noted now, that the prince’s resentment over their prior negligence had not completely abated.

“Calenlass? ‘Tis not the first time you have expressed your displeasure at our lengthy absences,” he said quietly. “If you still resent us for this, please be open with me now. It pains me to know we offended you so grievously.”

Legolas glanced at his friend, noted the other’s pensive countenance. He sighed.

“‘Tis only that I felt you had forsaken me,” he admitted. “You in particular, Elrohir. The number of messages you thought to send were so few and their contents oft inadequate for my needs. I could not help fearing at times that you had – that you had found another more worthy of your regard.”

“More worthy?” Elrohir frowned his bemusement.

“Well, yes. You are of a line revered throughout Elfdom while I am just a simple Wood-elf for all my sire’s lordly heritage.” Legolas bit his lip and looked away. “I was honored when you befriended me but, I confess, I have wondered what you saw in me that you did.”

The twin’s stare turned incredulous. He held back, bringing them both to a stop, and compelled the archer to face him.

“You questioned that?” he said disbelievingly. “You who have proven more great-hearted and noble than many an Elda returned from Aman? Legolas, you are more than worthy of any one’s regard! Certainly, you have mine in full measure and you always will. Greater than any other, I promise you.” He hesitated then continued softly. “There are times I esteem you more that I do my own kin. Even Elladan.”

Legolas gazed at him in rampant relief. “Then I am not... You have not...”

“Found another in your stead? Nay, malthernil.”—golden prince. “There is none in all Eä who could possibly replace you in my affections.”

Legolas broke into a radiant smile. “I am glad that you feel thusly,” he said. “I had thought... Ai, Elrohir, I will hold you to your promise never to be parted from me for much longer than a few years!”

This fervent declaration elicited such a look of brilliant elation from the warrior that it caused the archer’s heart to skip a beat. But before he could inquire as to the cause of his friend’s warmer than usual reaction, he caught sight of the great stone doors of the palace opening. Several ellith—Elf-maids—in court attire emerged led by a rather flamboyant figure. This one carried herself with a predatory arrogance more befitting a huntress than a lady of Thranduil’s court. Legolas grimaced in distaste and hurriedly hauled Elrohir back into the shadows of the closely packed trees.

“Legolas, what—?”

The prince nodded in the direction of the ladies as they crossed the bridge. Elrohir peered at them, taking note in particular of the Elf-maiden Legolas had earlier looked upon with such dislike. A quick glance at the prince’s scornful expression confirmed his suspicion as to the reason for his friend’s precipitate retreat.

“So, you, too, have known the, uh, charms of Lady Nelleth,” Elrohir said with a smirk.

“Charms?” Legolas snorted. “I would not dignify what she does with that word. I was fortunate to make it out of her chamber intact!” He suddenly stiffened and eyed Elrohir suspiciously. “I, too? What do you—?” At Elrohir’s wicked grin, he exclaimed: “You bedded her? How could you stand her?”

The Elf-knight shrugged. “Once I had her measure ‘twas a simple matter to match and best her. But I do not care to repeat the experience. She is too rapacious for my taste.”

Legolas did not know whether to scowl or laugh. “For your taste? I thought you had no limits when it came to bed-play.”

“I do not so long as ‘tis not forbidden by the Eldar,” Elrohir pointed out. “But Nelleth... she cares not for the needs of others. ‘Tis her desires that count, her pleasure, her completion. She does not couple with her partners but rather ravages them if she can.”

“I gather she did not succeed with you then?” Legolas commented.

“As I said, I bested her. I do not think she will dare approach me again.”

“And that disappoints you, I suppose,” the archer said somewhat peevishly to Elrohir’s surprise.

“Not at all,” the twin objected. “As I said, I do not desire to lie with her again. She is far too selfish a partner to warrant more than one bedding from any sensible Elf.” When Legolas continued to look sceptical, he remarked: “Why do you doubt that I should feel this way? It matters to me that any I couple with should know as much pleasure as I or even greater if it is within my power.”

Legolas suddenly colored. “Aye, that is true,” he murmured. “You – you have always ensured mine.”

Elrohir’s eyes widened at the archer’s discomfiture. His earlier elation quickly seeped away. “Forgive me,” he said tightly. “‘Twas not my intention to trouble you by reminding you of what passed between us.”

Legolas looked up quickly, catching the faintest hint of pain in Elrohir’s voice. When the Elf-knight would have turned to walk away, he grasped his wrist, detaining him.

“‘Twas not my intention to have you think that I was displeased,” he softly said. “I am not, Elrohir. I never have been though – though it still confuses me that – that I should feel thusly with you. And only you it would seem.” When Elrohir did not reply but only looked at him with suddenly veiled eyes, Legolas pressed on, anxious to explain his feelings. “I find it passing strange that we can be...intimate with each other yet remain the best of friends.” Legolas could not help an uncomfortable blush at this point but he continued. “I could never share my bed with any of my maiden friends and still be close to them. But with you...” He lifted his hands in a gesture of bafflement. “Mayhap ‘tis because I trust you so utterly that this is possible,” he finally suggested.

Elrohir sighed and averted his eyes to stare unseeingly into the distance. Legolas thought he’d never seen his friend look so lost or depleted.

“Elrohir, what is it?” he pleaded. “What did I say that upset you?”

At length, the Elf-warrior quietly said: “I only desire your happiness, Calenless. Whatever it may take.” Legolas stared at him, mystified by his cryptic answer. But Elrohir shook his head and added, “Think no more of this. ‘Tis of little importance. Come, the others await us.”

His demeanor brooked no protest or question. After a space, Legolas nodded and fell into step beside him. But he could not dispel the feeling that what they had spoken of was not of little importance despite Elrohir’s claim to the contrary. Certainly not when the Elf-knight’s behavior had changed so abruptly. Part of him longed to find out what had disheartened Elrohir so deeply. The other part feared that it would be something in which he would be powerless to help this dearest of all friends.

********

While her brother grappled with one twin’s enigmatic behavior, Nimeithel struggled with the other’s.

Was it her imagination or was Elladan avoiding her? It had not been so when they first arrived in Mirkwood. He’d been as friendly and attentive as he’d always been though, admittedly, he spent far more time with his brother and hers. That was to be expected of course.

Even in Rivendell, she’d passed much of her stay there with the women of the household. She was no warrior-maid who could easily fit in with the company the twins kept or indulge indefinitely in the strenuous activities they favored.

But he had sought her company frequently enough to gladden her no end. Not to mention satisfy her secret desire to be near him as often as she could. And so she’d had the bliss of his companionship for several weeks running. Until...

What had she said or done to merit his disdain of her company? Worse, he would now ignore her when a meeting between them was unavoidable. Such near uncivil treatment almost brought her to tears on several occasions but she pridefully held them back. Come what may, she was the daughter of Thranduil. Her distraught reaction in Rivendell had been the result of coming up so brutally against certain realities of which she’d had little experience. But now, she stubbornly maintained her composure, determined to do her father and brothers proud. Even if the older twin’s behavior hurt her dreadfully.

When he did pay attention to her anew, it proved a most painful encounter. And an unexpectedly enlightening one.

She had requested Elrohir to help her practice her newly learned martial skills. Once back home, she’d come up against her father’s resistance to her continued training in the battle-arts. When it came to his only daughter, the Elvenking was protective to a fault. Superstitious as it may have seemed, Thranduil half feared that to let Nimeithel learn some of the ways of warriors was to invite the possibility of her actually having to be one in times of conflict.

Nimeithel understood her father’s apprehension and skewed reasoning and loved him for it but she chafed at the difficulties his opposition put in her way. With Thranduil’s disapproval made clear, Legolas had then become reluctant to press on with her lessons. And if her own brother declined to train her, it was hardly meet for the other warriors, even the she-captain Tathariel, to do so. And so she’d frustratedly worked on her own, knowing she would not progress much without a seasoned tutor’s instructions.

The twins had had no compunction about flouting Thranduil’s wishes in this matter. Indeed, Elladan had initially been the one to do it in the first weeks after they arrived in Mirkwood. But when he’d abruptly started avoiding her, she’d asked Elrohir to take over. The younger twin acceded to her request, turning a sympathetic countenance upon her not to mention a disconcertingly knowing look.

It seemed Elrohir knew what lay within her heart. But he did not attempt to pry into her affairs. Instead, he began meeting with her each early morn in the herb garden behind the stables. Given her father’s opposition, it was more prudent not to flaunt her rebellion or his complicity by practicing in a more private setting. The garden was seldom visited save by the royal cooks if and when they needed a fresh supply of herbs for the palace larders.

It was just as well that no one showed up to watch her spar with the younger twin except for an occasional furtive visit by Legolas. Shorn of proper supervision in the five years since her return from Imladris, her skills had lamentably diminished. It would have been humiliating to train before an audience other than her brother. At least, he did not tease her beyond bearing.

And Elrohir was kind and patient and understanding. With him, she did not feel embarrassed by her poor showing. If anything, he made her feel more confident about her abilities with his reassuring words and gentle criticism. He went up immeasurably in her esteem and she began to think Legolas blind or mule-headed or both not to realize what a splendid mate the Elf-knight would make, Mirkwood prohibitions none withstanding.

Then one day, Elladan showed up unbidden. Before his twin could start her instructions for the morn, he suggested that she spar with him instead. Nimeithel was completely unnerved. To be so close to the Elf-lord again...!

At the start of the bout, she managed to hold her own. But Elladan suddenly turned ruthless and Nimeithel found herself earnestly fending off his attack. She vaguely heard Elrohir shouting at his twin to ease up, reminding him that the princess was no battle-hardened veteran. But Elladan paid him no heed. All uncalled for, he tripped her and she found herself on the grass, gasping for air and Elladan straddling her hips, his sword at her throat.

After taking in her shocked expression for a moment, he rose and tossed the sword to Elrohir. “If I’d been the enemy she would have been dead,” he said in a hard tone to his brother. On that note, he departed.

Elrohir helped Nimeithel to her feet. Shaken, she looked at him apologetically. “I did not mean for him to be angry with you,” she murmured.

Elrohir shook his head. "'Twas not for me that he uttered those words,” he quietly corrected her.

Nimeithel swallowed hard. “You mean they were directed at me,” she said, her voice catching. “He thinks I’m incompetent.”

“He is not angry, only concerned,” Elrohir averred. At Nimeithel’s disbelieving glance, he pointed out: “He worries that you may not be able to hold your own in battle should you be forced into it. He cares about your welfare, Nimeithel. Indeed, he cares too much.”

Nimeithel sighed. “I wish I could believe that,” she said rather forlornly. “But he has been so distant with me these past many weeks.” She looked beseechingly at the younger twin. “Elrohir? Have I – have I said anything, done anything that has set him against me?”

He shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis not you that has led him to behave thusly but his own feelings.”

“I do not understand.”

“I cannot speak for Elladan. ‘Tis not my right. But this much I can say. He is as I am. His heart is not given lightly or easily.”

She stared at him. “Is yours given then, Elrohir?” she asked softly.

He gave her a smile of such melancholic sweetness that it fairly smote her.

“Does Elladan know?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“I have not confided this in him though I am certain he suspects.”

“Why, meldiren?”—my friend—she pressed.

“Would you have your brother’s pity should he discover your desire?” he countered. “A desire that will likely never be fulfilled?”

She fell silent, comprehending his pride, marveling at his forbearance.

“If ‘tis any comfort to you,” she finally said hesitantly, “I would be happy and proud to call you brother.”

His grey eyes lit with pleasure at her pronouncement.

“Mayhap you shall have that chance,” he said quipped. “You need only declare your heart, Nimeithel,” he added on a more serious note. “If you have the courage to do so.”

She cocked a disbelieving eye at him. “Is that the way of the Noldor?” she queried. “Is it your female-folk who do the wooing?”

He grinned at her resilience and renewed spunk. “Nay, our traditions are as yours when ‘tis a matter of courtship between Elf-male and Elf-maid. But there are always exceptions to the rule. If you do not care to wait overlong, I would counsel you to take matters into your own hands.”

She considered him thoughtfully. “And will you take matters into yours?” she questioned.

The mithril-hued eyes turned wistful. “When the time is ripe,” the Elf-knight replied. “If it ever is.”

She gazed at him with sisterly affection and sympathy.

“Thank you, Elrohir,” she near whispered. “I pray the Powers will bless you ere long with your desire. If ever there was one who deserved to win his just reward, ‘tis you.”

He blushed charmingly under her reverent regard.

“Come now, you are much improved whatever my brother may say,” Elrohir said to dispel the emotionally fraught mood. “Let us continue.”

Nimeithel beamed, much heartened by their conversation. “Very well.” She raised her sword once more.

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

Glossary:

laer – Sindarin for summer

To be continued…
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- 6
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Greenleaf & Imladris 13 - The Choices We Must Make