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Faer na Faer (Spirit to Spirit)	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I receive no profit in any form for this story. Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story/composition are erobey's.

Chapter List
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As Haldir sat at the banquet table in the legendary underground stronghold of King Thranduil, he found it necessary to exert great effort to present a pleasant, interested demeanour. It wasn't that the food was poorly prepared or meagre in quantity, for the fare was excellent and the wine superb. It wasn't that the caverns were claustrophobic or gloomy; in fact, only in Imladris had Haldir beheld such opulence and evidence of wealth coupled with a refinement in taste that bore witness to King Thranduil's noble blood. The halls of the king were vast, open, brightly lit, and decorated with furnishings veneered in precious metals and jewels.
Nor was the evening's entertainment anything at which to scoff, for there was music and singing to accompany the meal. What had Haldir so worried was the sombre mood of Thranduil and his immediate family, said family reduced in number by one, lacking the fair golden prince.

The March Warden was seated next to Gildin, and though he tried to engage the prince in conversation, hoping to learn where Legolas was, Gildin remained distant and distracted. Beside Gildin was his wife and she was even more reticent than her husband, giving Haldir quick, anxious smiles instead of responses when he attempted to talk to her. Further along were Gildin's two daughters and their families comprising so many generations that it was impossible to keep all their names within memory. Rumil was situated among these and was too far from Haldir for them to discuss Legolas' absence. At the head of the table sat Thranduil, resplendent in jewel-studded satin robes, a crown of ivy encircling his brow. An empty chair was to his right, just opposite Gildin's, and on the monarch's other elbow reposed Galion.

Thranduil was not angry, Haldir decided, but deeply saddened and he could not doubt that this was in some way connected to Legolas. Even as he watched, the king drained his goblet only to have Galion instantly fill it. That Thranduil also gulped down and the butler replenished the wine just as quickly. Silence blanketed the lofty table once more so that the sounds of knives and forks and chewing and swallowing all became unbearably pronounced. Apparently the noise bothered the king, also, and he suddenly stood, taking up his goblet with him.

"Let us pay homage to the one for whom this feast is given tonight," he said and at once all the music in the great hall stopped.

Haldir's eyes grew huge and his face grew hot. This was absurd and flattering at the same time, for while he knew the King of the Wood Elves had called the feast in order to honour Lothlorien's aid, to single him out in this way was unexpected. Still, he had no desire to insult his host or appear oblivious to such acclaim and so he stood, taking up his glass and smiling in what he hoped was a serenely humble manner.

The King's eyes fell upon the visitor, the expression within them filled with a vague sort of irritated bemusement. What in Mordor was he doing standing during the Tribute to the Fallen? It was unheard of, but he dismissed the strange behaviour with a quirk of his brow and a mental shrug. The elf was from Lothlorien; no doubt customs differed somewhat and allowances must be made. Thranduil took a breath and began his speech.

"Never forget the day, though ten thousand Valian years pass you by. We were both blessed and cursed that day; enduring unbearable sorrow while our hearts felt ready to burst from joy too great to contain. Such is the fate of the tawarwaith and we have known this duality of emotions many times before. Everyone of us has felt it; everyone of us has endured it. Those who could not endure are gone, waiting on the distant shores of Eldamar for us to join them. Will we go or will we stay?"

Almost as one the assembled elves leaped to their feet and called out loudly: "We stay! As long as Thranduil holds fast, we will never falter!"

"Aye, we stay, Sindarin and sylvan, warriors and artists, male and female, all of us will stay. In the forest we remain and by our united efforts shall the Shadow's vile encroachment be stayed, driven back to the foul mountain in Mordor whence it arose. So spoke my father when he came upon the borders of Greenwood: 'We have come into a green world and here shall we abide until the end of days.' To that I hold!"

The Wood Elves clamoured loudly their approval, tapping upon the tables with their utensils and chanting an ancient vow, slightly modified for the occasion: "Tawar sustains us; Thranduil protects Tawar!"

By this time, Haldir realised he was not the object of this deeply moving accolade. Yet now that he was on his feet, it might be a far greater affront to take his seat again. It was unbearably awkward, standing there in silence, unable to join in the vociferous chanting, unable to unobtrusively drop into the chair. He glanced about to see if anyone was paying him even passing notice and found Rumil watching him with a bemused smirk. Haldir's face grew red and he resigned himself to the inevitable teasing. It was as nothing compared to his anxiety over what had become of his golden elf.

"Aye, we stay," Thranduil continued when the crowd became quiet again. "Tawar needs us here, every one of us. Since the time before Anor and Ithil, the Wood Elves have dwelled beneath these trees, enjoying the bounty of the forest, protecting the ancient woodlands from the Shadow's evil. For everyone of us here, many more have been sundered from us by this same malevolent presence. We stay to honour them and their sacrifice, to assure their loss is not meaningless, and to ensure the Greenwood still stands for the day of their return."

Now the silence in the hall was palpable, anger and pain and sorrow and hope all woven together into a thick and heavy drape of restrained emotions, yet there was, too, a strained and expectant energy in the crowd.

"Let us never forget them, the Lost and the Fallen, the Dead and the Wanderers. Keep them close to your hearts and ever running through your dreams. This is a day both joyous and solemn, yet it is our choice which emotion to foster. I say it is easy to sink into sorrow and tears; too many are the numbers sundered from my presence. I choose hope instead. Those absent today will be returned to me, whole and healthy. For that I rejoice!" Thranduil lifted his goblet high and all the assembled elves did likewise.

They waited, but the King did not complete the tribute, frozen in his efforts to maintain composure, for it was obvious to all that the sorrow he'd been keeping at bay threatened to overwhelm him at last. Then Gildin moved to his side and placed a hand upon his father's shoulder.

"Praise the fallen warriors; praise our lost kinfolk; let them dream for now in Golden Light. Námo, Lord of the Halls of Waiting, do not keep our loved ones longer than their healing demands, for great is our longing to see them again. Return them to us!" Gildin raised his glass and drank and everyone did the same, even Haldir who had reason to find such a commemoration moving. Indeed, who among the First-born did not have relatives removed from them by the vagaries of ill-fate?

No more was said and everyone returned to their places at table. For a few more moments, the musicians refrained from striking the chords. Gradually the low murmur of voices filled the hall again, but the sound was more subdued and sombre than before. Haldir, at first lost in his own memories of his parents' demise during the rampage of Durin's Bane, startled when the King leaned toward him and spoke.

"No doubt you wonder what dread anniversary we mark in such a strange manner, holding a great feast with dancing and laughing and song and good wine," he said, his smile strained and his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Aye, Hiren," replied the March Warden cautiously.

"He thought you were about to praise him and his warriors' efforts in the assault upon the Dark Tower," Gildin broke in, hoping to lighten his father's mood. It worked, for Thranduil chuckled appreciatively at Haldir's reddening cheeks and dismayed expression.

"Well, he had reason, I suppose. When I announced there would be a feast this night, he may not have realised it was an annual event. Naturally, he assumed the cause was Lothlorien's participation," the King said. "No matter, Haldir of Lorien, I am glad you are here to celebrate with us."

"It is the anniversary of my Naneth's Begetting Day," Gildin explained. "She perished many years ago…"

"Three hundred and seventy five years ago," inserted Thranduil, following it with another gulp from his goblet.

"That is the cause for our sorrow," the prince continued, "but there is reason for gladness, too. This is also the anniversary of my younger brother's Begetting Day."

Haldir startled visibly. "Legolas' Begetting Day?" he repeated. "Then where is he? Surely he ought to be here to join the festivities." At last he must have a direct answer and turned to the King to make sure he got it.

"He is indisposed," said Galion quietly, his eyes intense and filled with warning when Haldir met them. "He is still recovering from the injuries he received in battle."

Now Haldir was about to open his mouth and refute this statement, for it was plainly false and he could not understand why the seneschal would lie, when Thranduil exhaled a woebegone sigh.

"The healers say he will be fine, but refused me admittance to his sick-room, saying he was deep in healing slumber," remarked Thranduil. He favoured Haldir with a frightfully sad smile. "He would not want us to postpone the celebration, though, so do not be disturbed."

The March Warden trained his flustered stare upon first the seneschal and then the erstwhile heir, and finally shared his shocked disbelief with Rumil. What could this bizarre falsehood mean? He was soon to receive his answer.

The doors to the great hall creaked open slowly and an elf slipped between the narrow entrance thus created. With halting strides he made his way toward the dais and as he passed the many tables gasps and hushed exclamations flew from the feasting elves. In no time the music again dwindled away and the whispering increased, while every now and then an elf reached out to clasp the new arrival's arm as he passed. Thranduil rose at once, proud and pleased, eyes shining with relief and love, but he did not go down to his son, for of course this was Legolas.

"Legolas!" called Haldir, ecstatic to see his golden elf approaching, but this joy quickly gave way to dread as he watched the archer's slow, ungainly progress.

"Muindor," Gildin's voice was admonishing, "you are supposed to be resting."

"Hênellon darlanc," (Stubborn boy) muttered Galion, shaking his head, but his face radiated approval.
"Eglerio Varda," whispered the King softly, though elven hearing easily detected the praise. "You are awake; you came."

Haldir peered at Legolas, who had not acknowledged him, desperate to ascertain what had caused this dramatic change. Had there been some call to arms of which he and Rumil were not informed? Spiders, perhaps, had tried to attack the stronghold; he simply couldn't comprehend anything else that made sense, for Legolas was clearly in great discomfort, though he wore garments fitting to such a grand occasion and his hair was shining in the light of the lamps.

Finally he was upon the dais and stood before his father, blue eyes gleaming with determination and joy. He took the goblet from Thranduil's hands and lifted it high, turning a bit to make sure everyone in the hall did the same. Briefly his gaze encountered Haldir's, offering a quick smile of gratitude when the March Warden snatched up his cup as well.
"I drink to the memory of my Nana, Roval'aer (Red Wing). May her return from Mandos be speedy." He drank deeply and drained the glass dry, thumping it down upon the table roughly.

A subdued cacophony filled the room as the elves added their endorsement with a hearty yet solemn "Nasan" (So be it) that echoed through the tremendous space. Only then did Thranduil react, embracing his son tightly and holding him fast. Everyone at the table could see Legolas flinch and hear the sharp hiss as he breathed out.

"How bad is it?" asked Thranduil quietly, not letting go for fear that Legolas couldn't remain standing if he did. "The healers denied me entry else I would have been there when your awakened."

"Could be worse," answered Legolas, "but still I am weary and need rest. Your permission to retire, Adar?"

"Ai! What a thing to ask!" fussed Thranduil, cautiously shifting his hold from around Legolas' shoulders, noting again the unmistakable wince the contact evoked. The reaction worried him, for the wounds his son was suffering seemed unlike those typically received during battle. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and quietly escorted Legolas from the Great Hall.

Haldir and Rumil exchanged a swift glance and both rose, following quickly after the king. As expected, both Galion and Gildin moved to intercept them. They all stopped in the outer courtyard and the March Warden let his temper flare.

"What is going on here? What happened to Legolas? He was fine just hours ago. I should have been told at once!" He loomed over Gildin, not caring a bit that his actions were threatening to a prince of a foreign land in which he was a guest.

"Mind yourself!" seethed Gildin, face red in fury. "You will not speak that way to me. I owe you no explanations, especially regarding Legolas' activities."

"Nay, do not play this game of politics," exhorted Rumil. "Can you not see what your brother means to mine? Answer him!"

"There is nothing to tell," soothed Galion, hoping to calm the agitated March Warden and his King's heir both. "Legolas will be fine; the hurts are superficial."

"We all know he was only injured in the leg," barked Haldir, "and that wound had closed before we left the campsite. Yet he could barely stand upright just now and his father's comforting embrace clearly pained him. He has been hurt since returning to the stronghold and I will not be lied to about it!"

"What you will do is control your tongue," ordered Gildin. "Another outburst such as that and I will have no choice but to confine you to your quarters until it is time for you to depart."

"You threaten me unjustly," said Haldir. "I have told you honestly that my feelings for your brother are deep and everlasting. I have begged leave to make him my mate, agreeing to whatever terms might be required to ensure that outcome. You cannot expect me to simply accept that someone has hurt him. I would know who and why and where and when! And then I would demand the culprit be brought to justice, and I would think you would want the same, for your brother's sake!"

In silence the two glared at one another, Haldir furious on Legolas' behalf, Gildin outraged at the implication that he did not care for his brother's well-being. Once more Galion intervened.

"Aye, you are right to ask these things, Haldir O Lorien, and I am sorry the truth was kept from you. The thing is, Legolas did not wish for you to know."

"What?" Haldir's anger evaporated in an instant.

"Aye, he insisted everything go forward without your intervention, which he was certain would be strident and disruptive," added Gildin. "Legolas' feelings about you are equally strong, which is why I agreed to Galion's proposal regarding this ridiculous appointment as ambassador."

"Is anyone here going to actually explain things?" demanded Rumil. "Perhaps it would be best if Haldir simply spoke to Legolas. That way, he will see for himself the prince is all right and hear from his lips the meaning of these confusing events."

"No, for that is counter to both mine and Legolas' wishes. Galion, take them to their rooms." Gildin decreed, invoking his authority as Prince of the Realm and making no mistake about the indisputable power behind that title. He glared at Haldir in cold fury. "Is it not enough for you that you've stolen away Legolas from us? He is our Ada's hope and the very light of his soul. I have done all I could to make it so and now because of you…" Gildin suddenly broke off, aware that he had said too much, and turned from the Lorien soldiers, disappearing within the stronghold again.

Now Haldir and Rumil turned to the seneschal and because of the elf's success in arranging for Legolas' appointment, the March Warden had faith that he could convince Galion to disobey his Lord's edict. It was apparent the advisor expected as much for his face revealed his conflicted loyalties perfectly.

"I know what you would say," he began, addressing Haldir, "but you ask much. Think on it this way; in a matter of days you will have Legolas all to yourself and for as long as you wish, for he has made it clear he will not give you up, even for his father's sake. Be content, then, and do not pursue this matter."

"How can I be content knowing Legolas has been injured in some way? I cannot believe he truly wants me in the dark, though I am just as certain Gildin may have convinced him that would be best!" retorted Haldir.

"No, you misjudge Gildin. He loves Legolas deeply but this affliction the young prince suffers is as a personal affront to him. He believes, and it is true, that he is blamed for whatever flaws persist in Legolas' character. Gildin only hopes to spare their father learning of the blemish on his golden child, and spare himself the shame of admitting he failed his Adar," Galion defended Mirkwood's heir.

The Lorien warriors were not impressed. Said Rumil, a snort of disgust preceding the words:

"Blemishes, afflictions, and flaws! I do not recognise them in Legolas so much as this backward culture to which he has been subjected. As for his brother, mine had the raising of me and never imposed such harsh restraints or placed upon my shoulders such a heavy burden of responsibility. Gildin has charged Legolas with salvation of their Adar!"

"Aye, and that is a terrible wrong, for only Iluvatar can determine the fate of a person," agreed Haldir. He inhaled a deep breath and stood tall, peering down his nose at the Mirkwood elf. "I will search the fortress room by room if that is what it takes, but I will find Legolas and learn the state of his health this day."

"And I will search alongside him. Understand, Galion, that since Legolas holds Haldir's heart, he also holds his future. I will not consign my brother to death by unrequited love," added Rumil.

"Ai! You know that will not happen, for even if Gildin and I had not made Legolas ambassador, he would have followed you to Lorien anyway," fumed Galion. He could see there was no dissuading these two brothers and exhaled an exasperated oath. "Ulmo's Balls! I will take you to Legolas, but the consequences must rest upon you if you are discovered. I implore you to be cautious and have Rumil stand watch, for should Thranduil find you with his son I know not what he will do."

"Agreed!" Haldir beamed hugely and clapped the disgruntled seneschal on the shoulder. "Lead on, worthy Galion, and consider me in your debt. You must make certain to come to the bonding ceremony in the Golden Wood."

Galion stared in horror, for he had warned Haldir about such plans, but decided events had gone far beyond his ability to alter them and Vairë was not partial to interference from others once she began weaving a given fate. He did as he had promised and left the brothers in the vestibule of the prince's rooms.

Haldir stood before the simple wooden doors, hesitant now that he was here, worried as to why Legolas wanted to conceal his hurts. Though he suspected Gildin's influence, perhaps it was wrong to intrude on Legolas' privacy. Mayhap there was something here his golden elf was ashamed to have him know. What that could be, or the consequences of forcing him to reveal it, filled Haldir with trepidation. The last thing he wanted was to give the wary prince a reason to distrust him. Perhaps he should leave things alone.

"Ai, you know you want to see him," Rumil shoved him in the back. "Just go in. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than not knowing. Tell him how you feel and he will forgive this intrusion."

Haldir had to agree and steeled himself to open the door. With a last glance at his brother he slipped inside the dimly lit room.

As in many of the cavernous stronghold's chambers, lamplight was limited and the space was illuminated only by the glow of the fire in the hearth. Haldir walked in, gazing about in amazement for this seemed like a child's playroom more than anything else. There were shelves made low to the ground, the easier for small hands to reach the books upon them. There were cupboards filled with scattered toys, as though the owner had only left them an hour ago. A child-sized desk and chair sat near the grate and a diminutive table strewn with papers occupied another corner. Even the rugs covering the bare rock were woven in a whimsical design of forest animals and trees. It occurred to Haldir that this room must have served Legolas as a nursery while he was growing up. The idea made him grin and the urge to linger, to discover which books had been the archer's favourites, what toys had been most beloved, was strong.

Yet he did not tarry, keeping in mind his objective, and moved across the room to a second door. This stood ajar and from within spilled the golden glow of candlelight. Cautiously he approached, pausing on the threshold to peer inside, tapping lightly upon the framed arch. No response met this attempt to announce his presence and Haldir crossed the threshold. At once the March Warden caught his breath; his golden elf lay sprawled naked upon the bed, for it was in fact the sleeping chamber.

Legolas long lean frame filled the bed, in that it was made for an elfling, and his slender feet trailed off the end. He lay atop the covers half on his chest and half upon his side, face turned toward the March Warden, one arm tucked under his pillow and the other flung over the side of the narrow bed. His eyes were half shut and in the wavering light his lashes sent a delicate shadow quivering over his cheek. The flaxen mane cascaded in a luxurious tumble all around him, strands twining over his shoulders and back, so long they coiled within the depression where a tight round rear rose from the base of his spine. His pale skin was dappled and streaked where rosy firelight played upon his form.

Haldir stopped and smiled, an ache forming under his heart, for while Legolas naked was a magnificent sight, in this guise he looked innocent and vulnerable. It was like looking backwards in time to the prince's early adolescence and the March Warden was reluctant to wake him and break this spell. Then his fears re-ignited, for Legolas must be either dreaming deeply or unconscious not to have heard his knock. He moved noiselessly toward the small cot and, once his feet brought him within a few yards, gasped in horror. With a bound he was at the bedside and kneeling on the floor.

"Legolas! Beloved, awaken! Legolas, who did this to you?"

Haldir placed a gentle hand on the prince's shoulder and imposed the faintest pressure he could, for the high colour he'd noted was not due to the subtle influence of the fire's red glow. The entirety of his golden elf's back was covered in angry red weals from his shoulders down to his heels. One or two of the lashes had broken and bled, though it was obvious treatment had been applied recently and the injuries were healing. He could not believe that after all the dangers of battle his beloved had been so roughly abused in his own home. Furious outrage surged through Haldir's soul and he wanted nothing more than to inflict the very same punishment upon the criminal responsible for such horrendous torture. No sooner had the thought of punishment materialised than Haldir felt his mind twist in dizzy cartwheels as a new suspicion forced itself to the forefront of his brain.

At the touch, Legolas stirred and murmured a lethargic greeting, smiling in sleepy confusion to find Haldir here beside him, displaying all the indications of someone heavily drugged, which he was. He shifted to sit up and at once the lashes flared as his muscles pulled the skin. He groaned and lay flat again, fisting the pillow tight as the pain rolled over him.

"What are you doing here?" he managed faintly, face buried into the bedding for of course now he realised Haldir was aware of his hurts. The one thing he'd hoped would not happen, yet he'd known that trying to attend the feast might result in this very outcome. Even so, he'd been unwilling to miss the commemoration for his Naneth.

"I had to see you for I could tell you were not well at the feast. What happened, Legolas? Who did this to you and why?" Haldir's voice and face betrayed his distraught emotions and he settled on the edge of the cot, carefully gathering up the yellow locks in order to examine the injuries better. It was not a pretty sight and he hissed in sympathetic misery as Legolas shifted awkwardly more to his side. He was relieved to see the welts only covered the prince's back.

"Ai, Haldir, it is nothing. Please, just let it pass for it is over now and nothing can change it," Legolas said, raising chagrined and imploring eyes to his would-be mate. In spite of the embarrassment, it was gratifying to note the depth of Haldir's concern and Legolas offered him a smile, reaching for his hand.

"Let it pass?" Haldir grasped the archer's fingers readily but was unwilling to do as asked. "No, I cannot pretend this is nothing. You've been brutally beaten and I want an explanation and retribution and…"

"Elbereth!" Legolas' grin expanded. He reached out and laid his palm against Haldir's flushed, tense cheek. "You are rather feisty when your temper is fired up. These injuries are minor, though painful, and will be completely healed tomorrow. There is no one from whom to seek retribution; this is just the standard penalty imposed for what I did. It was worth it and I would gladly endure it again."

"What can you possible mean?" Haldir stood abruptly, looking down upon Legolas as though he was a completely alien creature, for these words gave the idea that so troubled him substance. "You willingly submitted to this?"

"Aye. I told you; once our 'indiscretion' became public, an accounting was required," reminded Legolas. "I was hoping you wouldn't find out what that meant, but here you are. How did you find me?"

"Gildin." Haldir swallowed in a thickly occluded throat and felt tears welling up. He didn't bother to hide them as he sat back down, once more passing as soft a touch as he could over Legolas' shoulder. "Gildin did this. You took my fifty blows for me."

"Yes, it was the only way. I wasn't about to let him lay a hand on you and when Galion saw I would put an arrow in my brother before I let him so much as slap you on the wrist, he proposed that I take your punishment as well." Legolas watched Haldir intently, worried about how virulent his reaction might become. The last thing they needed was an uproar and another public conflict with Gildin. All he wanted was to slip quietly away with Haldir.

"As well? Are you telling me you endured the same number of lashes for yourself?" Haldir's stomach squeezed and rolled and he feared he was going to be sick. "That is horrible! How could your own brother deliver so barbaric a reprimand? And for what? Just because the customs here say you cannot take a male as your partner."

"I know it seems that way to you," Legolas tried to placate the Lorien warrior, "but this is how it has always been. Gildin couldn't very well permit someone else to do this to me, for it is treason to strike a member of the royal family. I would not want anyone to suffer such a charge for my sake. You must understand, my brother has so many responsibilities, for Ada hasn't been exactly well. Without Gildin our lands would have fallen to the Orcs after my Nana perished. He kept things running and kept Ada from fading. I try not to cause him so much aggravation and trouble, but this time I just couldn't obey him. Had I done so, I might have lost my chance, Haldir. I might have lost you."

"Ai, Legolas! You would not have lost me, but I understand, or at least I am trying to understand. Nay, this is just not all right! Your brother is abusing his power. No punishment need have fallen on either of us," mourned Haldir, for so it seemed to him. "This should be taken before your father. It is time he understands what is going on in his own house. If he deems me unfit to be your mate, then together we will convince him otherwise."

"Nay! Haldir, the whole reason I went through all this was so that he doesn't have to find out," Legolas clutched at his beloved's hand. "Please, he thinks I am perfect. I could not bear it for him to look upon me with disgust. Please, we are leaving in a few days, just let things alone," pleaded Legolas.

"He will not look at you with disgust, but he might give Gildin a look of horror. Legolas, you underestimate King Thranduil. The elf I met, the warrior presiding at the feast, is not ill with grief any longer. You and Gildin have been so caught up in worrying about him fading that you haven't realised he is healed and strong again. You must talk to him."

"How can I risk it?" wailed Legolas. "My whole life I've lived in fear that he would die. My first memories are of his unending tears and of Gildin warning me not to upset him. I cannot be the one to visit more pain upon him!" He pushed himself upright and made to rise, but Haldir quickly put a stop to that, catching him at the biceps and sitting him back down hard. They bounced a little as the bed creaked under the strain.

"No, you need to rest. I won't go to him now, but tomorrow when you are healed we will discuss it again. I promise to say no more until then, agreed? I want you fit for the journey home," Haldir smiled kindly, for now he understood better how this gruesome situation had come to pass. He leaned close and shared a soft kiss with his golden elf, thrilling when Legolas sighed and bent his head to rest upon his shoulder.

"As you wish," he murmured, "I am too weary to think straight right now. I will do as you bid me, Haldir, for truly I feel I could sleep a year."

"Then sleep you shall, Ened-en-Inden. (Centre of my Heart)," Haldir smiled as he helped Legolas settle once more on his stomach. "I will watch over you; be at peace." He perched on the rim of the little bed and scanned the marred skin, sighing as he hunted for any small spot he could touch without giving pain. He found one clear patch just at the back of the archer's knees and leaned low to press his lips there.

"Ai!" Legolas twitched and lifted his head, peering back at Haldir in mixture of amusement and mild frustration. "Don't start that, for I am in no condition to participate and you left me in a most dissatisfied state the last time I was naked in your presence."

"You were dissatisfied?" complained Haldir. "I am the one who had to leave in grave discomfort. I had to pleasure myself twice during the night because I couldn't get the image of you, lost in the peak of your passion, out of my head."

"Twice!" Legolas chuckled smugly. "Then it is in your interest to let me rest and heal, so that I might have the pleasure of relieving you when next such potent need visits your person. Ah, Haldir! There is a vision to fill my dreams; I knew I was right to choose you." He settled back into the downy mattress and closed his eyes, drifting quickly into heavy slumber as Haldir hummed a pleasing tune and stroked his hair.

TBC
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Faer na Faer (Spirit to Spirit)