Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Beautiful Dreamer	By : narcolinde Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4292 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, its characters, or its plot and settings. No money is earned from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Beautiful Dreamer
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Chapter 5
- 6-Six
- 7-Part Seven
- 8-Epilogue
- 4
- 5
- 6
Part Five: Convergence

He stood upon the narrow lip of stone watching the setting sun, naked skin painted with the fading glory of Anor, the gleaming disk huge and red as it dropped lower over the cloud-piercing peaks of the Echoriath, tinting them richly in violet and vermilion. The wind was in his hair and the golden strands danced, stained with ruddy light, but there was tension in him and the whirling mane seemed occupied as much in venting that stress as in playing with the balmy air. His arms were folded tight around his chest and he was still, peering at the spectacular display of colours without acknowledging it, though from Glorfindel's perspective it seemed Arien was enhancing the scene just to please Legolas, or perhaps to distract him.

The Lord of the Golden Flower certainly enjoyed the view, smiling at the length of Legolas' unbound hair, so long the trailing ends brushed across the sumptuous curves of his bottom, just as if they could not help themselves. He was astoundingly beautiful; even after all these years knowing him, it was still a revelation to behold him uncovered and Glorfindel was not unmindful of his good fortune to be granted such an uninhibited view. Yet it was more than this, so much more, and that made his heart ache with bittersweet agony. He wanted to be the only one to ever have this advantage, but Legolas had conditions and these Glorfindel would not, could not meet.

Legolas shivered faintly, enough to be noticeable, and the mighty Lord roused himself, arising from the pallet and taking with him a soft robe of nearly weightless gauze. It would do little to allay cold, but he knew the temperature was not the source of his lover's chill. From behind, he draped the fabric over the bare shoulders, pausing to press a kiss against one, hands closing about the lithe frame and carefully pulling him into a firm embrace against his chest. Legolas gave no sign he felt either contact.

"T'will be a beautiful night," whispered Glorfindel, shifting so his own nakedness touched upon that succulant rump. He was not asking for more; there was not time and they were both sated now. He just needed to feel the warmth of Legolas' body against him for there was comfort in that.

Hands ran over the velvety surface of supple arms; lips sampled the flaxen tresses and grazed on the smooth skin of throat and ears; he shuffled closer and snuggled his lax penis into the cleft of taut buttocks. Fingers feathered over the hard abdomen and its folded navel, drifted to a bare hip and then down to fondle genitals with proprietary familiarity. He was not trying to arouse Legolas but to assert a degree of ownership and mastery. Legolas responded, relaxing a little and leaning back against him. He felt the sigh that worked through him, the sound of it lost in the wind, and nuzzled against the fair cheek. He looked and caught the sharp glint of blue eyes watching him covertly.

"It is Tarnin Austa," said Legolas, voice distracted, apathetic, yet the tension in his body increased. He tugged the insubstantial garment close and released another wistful complaint upon the breeze. Dreading what must come, he said his part on cue. "Shall we venture to your house and wait upon the wall together?"

Glorfindel flinched at the woebegone and dismal tone; there was no hope in the question at all. Legolas knew he would decline but had to make the request all the same, for so his heart demanded. The Lordly warrior would like to give a new answer, not the one spoken every time the archer asked him, but could not. "Nay, that we cannot do, as well you know."

"Aye," another sigh, then: "More's the pity for that." Legolas stirred and turned in his lover's arms, letting Glorfindel see what these moments cost him.

They were of a height and he presented a bleak and joyless smile, his eyes bright with a fire fuelled by longing, love, and resentment. All of it was visible and Glorfindel did not look away from him, meeting the wild, accusing glare with his own mix of contrition, adoration, and insistent propriety. This small battle raged for a few seconds and then Legolas capitulated. Being with Glorfindel was the only thing that made such a fate bearable and he could not enforce the silent ultimatum. "I have duty anyway," he lied and kissed Glorfindel before turning aside to gather up his clothes. He walked away to the path naked and did not look back.

Glorfindel let him go, half grateful and half furious. He loved Legolas but could not tell him this, nor would he let the debased Swallow speak those words to him. It was not meet for him to associate so intimately with someone of such low morals and he had endured the censure of his peers for it over the years. Indeed, it had been made plain by the Council of Lords that to claim Legolas as his mate he would have to relinquish Lordship of his House. He could not and Legolas should not expect it of him, and so Glorfindel left the secluded rendezvous with ill-feeling, unhappy that he could not renounce the affair and purge his heart of the glorious but ill-gotten son of Duilin.

The dawn came early but instead of choirs singing hymns of joy the mountains rang with shrieks of terror and cries of rage. He did not have time even to look for Legolas and when the battle threw them together, then he realised what a fool he'd been. A more noble heart he could not hope to hold and in those hours as they fought side by side through the flaming streets, the promise was made and the bond forged. The kingdom was falling and with it all barriers between them would vanish. Melkor's victory would yield their liberation, if they survived to the next dawn.

Fate was not disposed to make it so.

In the centre of Celebrian's maze, Legolas twitched in restless discontent and a wretched moan escaped his lips.

On the pathway leading to it, Glorfindel paused and felt a great contraction wrench his heart so that he gasped aloud and clutched at his breast. The spasm passed but he stood panting for air, sweat a cloying film upon his skin, the memory so potent he thought he might collapse. He recovered himself, looking about to see if his strange spell had been witnessed. None were near and he inhaled deeply, starting forward anew.

Now Glorfindel went readily from the posh appeal of the seneschal's well-disguised and much fabled apartment below the cellars, but perhaps not for the reasons his friends suspected. Yes, he found Thranduilion attractive, fair as Legolas of the Tree had ever been if not more. There was likewise no doubt that the young warrior was as admirable in skill, a superior archer and just as fearless, and reckless, as his ancient namesake. Yet, there were glaring differences also, and these were not just barriers to embracing the notion that he was re-born, they were almost answers to prayers and if anything this was more daunting.

In so many ways, Thranduilion's life was opposite to that of his counterpart from Gondolin, for here was Legolas the honoured and much-loved son of a noble and mighty King of Elves, a warrior respected and admired for his skill and courage, a youth for whom the allure of his face and form was nothing, a thing he accounted not, never seeing himself in this light until just recently and the revelation was not a source of exhilaration but of misery and confusion. He was still an unstained, unblemished innocent. Had not Glorfindel wished all of that for Legolas?

There he was brought up short, realising with a sinking heart that these were qualities he wanted in Legolas to satisfy his own ideas of what was best. Had all those conditions been met in Gondolin, he would have publicly and proudly bound Legolas to him. In truth, he loved him but was ashamed of him. Never had he imagined the fateful four-way orgy was anything but the very illicit debauchery Legolas desired. Why was that? He had believed Ambarónë's contemptuous words, thinking one brother must know the other, and Legolas himself never denied it. Upon death his inner eye opened and the truth was revealed.

Oh, the anger he felt then was almost too much for Estë to assuage and it had required the solemn vow of Manwë that Legolas would be avenged to mollify the Balrog-slayer. From Námo he learned that Legolas would soon be in Mandos, too. That had been as painful to hear as it was joyful, for how could Glorfindel want his beloved to endure death by violence such as he had known?

When it came to pass, he was there to ease the fearful disorientation pursuant to being disembodied. The meeting of spirit is not like the meeting of persons; there are no barriers between one's thoughts and what Glorfindel knew Legolas learned. It proved too much and the troubled faer fled, seeking the soul of his mother, but she was not in Mandos. Nienna had to sequester him deep in her brother's Halls for time uncountable.

Even more, they were all there: Ambarónë, Malantur, Duilin, and Ecthelion. Valour at the last earned Ecthelion his freedom first; Duilin was content to stay and attempt to help his son, no matter the time required; Malantur was reduced to insanity, trying to hide from Manwë and Námo; Ambarónë was quietly repentant, seeing his brother's torment and his father's grief, and accepted his sentence of captivity without dissent. Teetering between madness and despair, Legolas would not come near them and refused to acknowledge what had come to pass to bring them together in the domain of the dead. Until he could face all of that and own it, Glorfindel knew Legolas would not begin to recover.

Leaving Mandos before him was the single most difficult action Glorfindel ever accomplished though he had done so willingly at the behest of Manw&e;. Legolas was not ready to be released and he accepted Nienna's decision that Duilin must be the one to guide his son back to reason and remembrance. Even so, sailing from Aman without Legolas had almost broken Glorfindel's heart anew. All his pleas were ignored, all his questions remained unanswered, and not even the wizards could guess when he would be re-born. Learning of Legolas Thranduilion, he could not help but hope, could think of nothing save to see him. It never entered his mind to do him harm. Erestor's unjust charges rankled and the Balrog-slayer's hands curled into fists. The seneschal had spent too many years with kin-slayers and had no heart left, he thought.

Even so, there was no longer room to deny that his unexpected visit had indeed resulted in this horrendous turmoil the prince suffered. Glorfindel had simply believed with all his being that this was his Legolas and so he went. How could it be otherwise? Why would such an ellon be born just now when Glorfindel had but barely returned from Aman, re-born anew just scant years prior to the sailing? Why would these woodland folk give their son such a name in such an ancient dialect? And why, in Manwë's name, would this young warrior wear upon his quiver the image of a swallow in flight?

He went, defying the ban of Thranduil to see the prince. Brazenly he introduced himself and at once realised that while his companion was awed and impressed by meeting so famous a legend, there was absolutely no recognition in those wide blue eyes. His memories were either concealed or this was not his Legolas at all. Unwilling to face either possibility, Glorfindel had left the next morning only to be followed soon after by the beleaguered ellon. It could not be undone and now his high and hopeful heart had brought them to this: Thranduilion must be subjected to that horrid scene of seduction and the fault lay full upon the Balrog-slayer's conscience.

How could he go to him and tell him what must be done? How he could plead this as his cause for wanting to be his first? He did want that; just the memory of Legolas' scent when aroused was enough to make him hard. The fleeting touch he'd stolen only fanned that flame higher. Would not the fair prince become horrified and offended to be propositioned under such conditions? Glorfindel could see it no other way, for they were not even friends much less lovers. Beyond that, he felt deep in his soul that it was wrong to take him in such a manner. This 'cure' went counter to all his avowed love, all his fervent pleas for the chance to adore Legolas and secure a genuine commitment before suggesting physical intimacy.

The fault was not all his own, these strange permutations in the Music, but he could not comprehend why Vairë, Weaver of Fate, would make these two elves mirror one another like the planes of a crystal grown of the same bit of rock. It was a puzzle he was not equipped to solve, but he felt used, angered that his true heart, his best heart, his pure heart that wanted Legolas out of genuine love, had been made into a weapon to hurt Greenwood's prince.
Glorfindel's pace was slow as his thoughts wandered amid the memories of two life-times, but the distance was not great and he reached the delicate gate to Celebrian's Maze in due time. He halted and thought about all that was behind him and what might be before him. No matter the counsel of his Lords, the Balrog-slayer decided that what was best for Legolas was to get him home to his people. This unholy scheme could not be good for him, whichever Legolas he turned out to be. If cold-hearted Erestor quailed to do this thing, noble Glorfindel of the Golden Flower assuredly could not. That decided, he entered in and made his way to the centre. His heart leaped with a silent cry of joy, his breath suspended, and his thoughts scattered in the breeze, for there lay the golden prince asleep in restful ease.

A soft white robe adorned him, the wrap tied loosely so that a tantalising strip of creamy skin was visible all the way to his genitals, which were covered enough to keep them from being on full display but not enough to make a voyeur avid for more. Legolas rested on his back, one hand atop his chest and the other hanging lazy and limp off the edge, the tips of the deadly fingers just touching the lush green grass. All his golden hair spilled over the pillow upon which his head reposed and his bright eyes watched the drifting clouds behind lids half-drawn, oblivious to any stimulus, internal or external. Soft rose-pink lips remained slightly parted in a faint half-smile as if he'd fallen into slumber after being told he was very much loved, very safe, and ever would he be.

So he would, too, if Glorfindel could manage it. He had not the heart to wake him, not even to urge him to pack his things and race from the valley, which was his intent. Instead he stood for several minutes just watching him sleep, feeling a warmth in his heart that was not all for the old love he'd left behind. He acknowledged a longing for this elf that surpassed his name and history, this woodland fey so new and fair and strong, and caught himself envying whoever won his heart.

Is that not what he deserved, to be wooed and won? Aye, and Legolas of Gondolin had not cause to harm his namesake; Erestor must be wrong. Glorfindel approached on noiseless feet and sat himself on the ground beside the reclining elf. Gently he ran his fingers through the long sweep of the glorious mane, smiling when Legolas sighed and turned half on his side, tucking a hand under his cheek. The motion bared a bit of shoulder and Glorfindel bent to press his lips against the skin, inhaling the scent of the slumbering Wood Elf, trying to compare it to his memories, and found he could distinguish no difference.

"How can I not fall in love with you?" he whispered, not fully realising he spoke aloud at all. "We both deserve that chance, Legolas. I care not if you never remember those painful days of your youth or whether those days were ever yours to recall. I can only pray you will find me worthy and return my love."

Softly he began to sing an ancient song from the ancient kingdom, a simple theme of love and constancy, permitting his hands to carefully soothe a loving caress down the long slender back, pleased that his attentions did not waken Legolas but instead seemed to send him deeper still. Glorfindel had no way of knowing that his presence and these caring actions invoked an unexpected and undetected element into the serene environment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was bright with stars, more than he had ever seen before, or so it seemed to him, and he dawdled along beside his Nana, wondering why she must hurry them so. Here was a fair place to pass the hours of Ithil's reign and since they had never done such a thing he was eager for the adventure. A firefly winked off and on and he laughed, watching as a whole cloud of them arose from the grass at the approach of their feet. No matter how lightly they walked, he thought, the earth felt them and made the way easy. His mother looked down, smiling, but her eyes held fear and worry and sadness and Legolas stopped smiling.

"The night is beautiful, Nana," he said, "yet you are crying." It was so, silver tears slipped over her cheeks in a ponderous flood. "Has something happened?" This was the way for them to say to each other that she and his Adar had argued again.

"Yes," she said, voice stricken and filled with both anger and hurt. "We are not wanted in the House of the Swallow, Legolas. I have explained this to you before."

"I know, but never have we gone from our home into the night before," he said, curious and concerned but not frightened. He had no cause to fear as long as she was beside him and besides, he was a warrior now, already a full three months into his training. There were no dangers in Gondolin, but if there were any, he could defend her. "And you have always said that it matters little what they want, for I was born a Swallow and this cannot be changed."

"You are not a Swallow and that place is not our home," she spat, the fury in her words startling him so that he faltered on the way. Repenting, she tried to smile and drew him close, crouching down on her heels. "Do not fret; my people will welcome us and we will live in the land of Doriath where I was born and grew to be a girl."

"How can you say I am not a Swallow?" he demanded, feeling an uneasy fear for the first time. Many of his contemporaries said this and his brother called him and his mother vile names because of it. Always his Nana had refuted their taunts and bade him hold his head up for he was Duilin's son.

"I say so because the Swallows have renounced us," she continued, wishing she had not given in to her sorrow and anger, but the time for sparing Legolas this was past. Better to take him away and return to the lands of her people where none would scorn him. She could easily say his father perished; none would know different. "We will go to Doriath and live under the protection of Thingol."

"Oh, the King who lives under the ground and has to wife a Spirit in elvish form?" Legolas nodded. He knew this tale well. It would indeed be a thing to see this Lady of great power who had a hand in the making of the world, but he did not want to forsake the fantasy his mother had for all his life described. "Yet here was I born and here is my Adar's House. Here I will become a great warrior and Adar will come to see that I…"

"Nay, Legolas!" She cut him off brusquely with a sharp shake that jolted the child's shoulders. "Understand this now: your father will not ever name you a son of his House. You and I are people of the Tree, ionen. Forget the haughty Swallows!"

"Forget?" Legolas was shocked. "How can I forget all I have ever known, Nana?"

"Remember, then, as I do the place of my childhood, but recall that you are still a child and I must do as I feel best for you, for so much do I love you. You will not be unhappy to journey with me to this great Kingdom." She smiled brighter and hoped to engage his adventurous spirit. "I was your age when my Adar decided to journey with Angrod son of Eärwen to share the tidings of Thingol with the Noldorin folk, for my Ada wanted to see these new and mighty people who had come out of Aman leading the way for Ithil and Anor.

"My Nana would not leave him and so we all joined the caravan. That is how our people came in time to Nevrast and met our kinfolk there, who had nought but high praise for Turgon and named him King. Thus we came here when Gondolin was made ready. This is our history, Legolas, and you are part of it. In Doriath you will realise these dreams of glory which fill your soul and I will be glad to see you happy there beneath the trees of Neldoreth."

"We are really going to leave here?" he demanded, at last comprehending the cause of their flight. "How will we find the way? How will we get past the guarded gate, for none may leave?"

"That is why we are scurrying away beneath the silver stars like field mice racing for their burrow ere the hawk spies them," she grinned. "How easy it will be for us to slip by the guards, for are we not folk of the Tree? None excel in wood-craft and stealth as do our people. In the same way we will find our way, for I know how to navigate by Varda's lights and will teach this to you, too. A grand adventure awaits! I know I can depend on you to defend us and provide food along the way."

"Of course," Legolas puffed up proudly, smiling to see how his mother trusted him and respected his worth. He was not sad to leave behind his half-brother and the others who scorned him, but leaving Aldarion was hard for he loved his uncle and wondered why he was not with them now.

Still, he knew not to say anything for his mother was crying again. Instead he sang her a song made up on the spot about guessing the names of the stars overhead and wondering if Ithil had to visit each one and introduce himself. In this way the hours passed, but he was still young and growing and the point was reached when he could not keep walking. Then mother and son curled up in a soft bed of grass and he slept while she watched over him.

All the next day and the night following it they kept on and though he couldn't guess it Aldarion was aiding their escape, deflecting notice of his sister's absence. This worked until the third day when Duilin, regretting his harsh words to his concubine, sought her in her quarters by the kitchens. The fight between them had been about the boy. She would not lie with him unless he provided a promise of honour for their son, and he had unjustly said the child had honour enough just to be allowed to train for the guard. Now he wished he had not spoken this way and came to make amends only to find her gone. Aldarion refused to admit what was happening but the mighty Lord figured it out. Enraged, he gathered his most trusted captains and a handful of guards and pursued her over Tumladen.

Dawn of the fourth day came as the thunder of his horse's hooves wakened Legolas. He looked into his mother's eyes and saw there such a look of hopeless horror that he became frightened. What did she think was going to happen? This was Duilin or one of his captains and at worst they would be taken back into the household. It need not be a bad thing, yet her eyes belied his hopes even before she suddenly grabbed him up off his feet and raced for the gates, the guards there watching all this in amazed curiosity. She came close enough to feel the cool draft of the air flowing out of the underground passage, but Lord Duilin set his charger between her and the entrance and there they all halted.

"Stand aside!" she cried in desperation. "It cannot matter to you what happens to us now. I will go and take my son to my people where he will not be debased and defamed."

"That is madness," snapped Duilin, red-faced in shame that he had pushed her to this extreme. Yet he had an audience and he was mindful of what promises he would say before witnesses. "You consign yourself and the child to death if you venture alone from here. Come, return to the house and all we be as it has been."

"I will not return!" she yelled at him fiercely, eyes wild and heart frantic. "He does not deserve your peoples' scorn and derision and I will give him a better life elsewhere."

"He will not be scorned," said Duilin quietly, glancing at the wide-eyed ellon clinging to his mother. "Do not take away my son from me, Curoniel." He held out his hand to her.

"You have not been pleased to name him your son before," she said, "anymore than you have been pleased to grant me some small place of dignity in your house. I am punished for the whims of a foolish girl's heart-stirrings and now Legolas suffers, too. In Doriath we will be treated as citizens not slaves."

The guards of the gate muttered to hear this charge and Duilin's captain made an abrupt noise of disgust, turning away as he shook his head, saying: "Dignity was yours to cast aside; do not blame others for your failings."

"Silence!" shouted Legolas and forced free from his mother's arms. Boldly he marched to confront the captain and glared in fury. "It is not for you to assign blame to my Nana."

Now Duilin chuckled and a smile of admiration was on his face. "Well said, filigod (little bird). Come over here to me now." Then Duilin held out his hand to his son and met the suspicious but hopeful eyes, the colour just like Curoniel's, and Duilin thought he would raise the child as his own after all.

"Nay! Legolas, come away from them," Curoniel cried and moved to snatch back her son, but then Duilin's guard blocked her way. "Legolas!" she called for him and ready was he to answer, drawing a dagger and charging to her defence, but his father reached out and caught him up, grinning at the strong spirit of his second son.

"Let me down! Let me down, Hîren Adar!" he shouted and struggled but a small elf child is no match for a mighty Lord of the Sindar.

"Be still, filigod, none shall harm your Nana," promised Duilin. "You will make a fine warrior for our House, Legolas, though that name is not to my liking. How shall we call you?"

"I am Legolas and that is how I shall be called," retorted the child, but he stopped struggling and looked into the stern but comely face of his father. Never had Duilin so much as held him and this was the one thing he had longed for in secret, keeping this wish hidden in his heart where even his Nana could not see it: that Duilin would love him and treat him as other children's fathers were wont to do, cherishing their offspring in pride and joy. "Yet, it is not unusual for a child to have both a mother-name and a father-name," he offered and flickered his eyes to his mother.

Curoniel was staring, mouth agape and eyes wide at this scene. Duilin seemed to want their child and she felt hope begin to blossom in her heart. She let this small spark be revealed to Legolas and he smiled broadly at her.

"So it is," Duilin was saying. "If I set you on your feet, will you refrain from attacking my loyal guards?"

"Will your loyal guards stand back from my Nana?" demanded Legolas. The stalwart warriors chuckled at the lordly command and at once obeyed, catching Duilin's eye and the silent order within it.

"You see they have already hearkened to your words," said Duilin and put Legolas down. They stood, father and son gazing upon one another and for the first time seeing the likenesses there. The great lord was not displeased and turned again to his concubine. "A fine son you have given me, Curoniel. I will take Legolas into my House and he will prosper. Yet, what is between us is another thing and that cannot be made legitimate, for I am wedded already and my Lady would not forgive any recognition of her rival. Mayhap it is best for you to return to the House of the Tree."

"No!" shouted Legolas. "This is my Nana and she is not to be sent away to Lord Galdor's House!" His boldness was not cute this time and Duilin cuffed him sharply so that he gasped aloud, never having been struck before.

"You will not speak out against the word of your Adar and Lord," intoned Duilin. "If you would be a Swallow, then fealty to me you must swear beyond the love a child naturally bears his sire. That is what is required of you. Now you must choose: your mother's people or your father's; there is no other way."

It was too much for a child so young and Legolas was not prepared to make such a choice. Wildly he looked to his mother for her help and found her downcast in sorrow. Then she raised her head and pushed her way past the guards and came to him, crouching down on her heels before him. Tenderly she took him to her heart and held him long, relishing the strength of the love in her son's lean arms. He wrapped them even tighter around her neck and squeezed, and she did not permit herself to weep.

Was this not what she desired for her child? Had she not promised him this from the moment he came to realise the difference between his estate and his brother's? Curoniel did what many mother's have done and made a choice she thought would better Legolas' life though it would forever remove him from her side. She let go, peeling the clasping arms from her, and smiled into her son's troubled eyes.

"Your father is right, Legolas. How can you shame me that way, defying him? Everyone will think I did not teach you any manners," she said, smiling through the remonstrance.

"But, Nana, I do not want you to go away," complained Legolas.

"I know, but you are not a little babe anymore and no more do you need your Nana to watch over you, for here is your father come to claim you," she explained, appealing to his pride and that secret wish he thought she did not know.

"Will I be able to come and see you?" he asked, trying hard to keep the tears from his voice, for the warriors were watching and his father peered down upon him in grim evaluation.

"After a time," she assured. "I will stay away and let you learn the ways of your father's House. Once you are established, then you will visit me or I will visit you, as your Adar ordains." Curoniel sent Duilin a swift glance and saw there what she already knew: he would not let her come back to his house again and would not make it easy for Legolas to come to her. He was embarrassed of the feelings he had held in his heart for her, as they were nothing to do with his heart at all, and he would fain forget the affair. It hurt her, but her love for Legolas was enough to make it easy to bear that rejection. Her son would grow to be a Lord of the House and she would be consoled with that knowledge.

"Then it is decided," announced Duilin and his tone let it be known that all present were to bear witness to this moment. "Legolas will become a part of my household and grow to adulthood therein. Take leave of your naneth, Duilinion, and return with the guard to my lands. I will speak with your mother and follow soon behind."

"I will make you proud of me," Legolas choked out, not bothering to hide his tears anymore for now he realised he might not see his Nana again for many days. He hugged her hard.

"I am already proud of you," Curoniel whispered, squeezing back. "Do not forget you are a son of the Tree also, my little Swallow." Then she let him go and stood up, backing away as he turned and moved away with the guards.

Lightly one tossed him up upon the saddle of his stallion and ere he mounted behind, Legolas raised his hand in salute. "Namarië, Nana," he called and then the warrior leaped upon the charger and they were thundering across the plain.

"Namarië, nín Tuilinn Dithen," she cried loudly that he might remember her love for him and come to understand what she had done this day, for he would never see her again. Curoniel had no words for Duilin. She fled past the guards of the gate into the hidden tunnel and came never again to Gondolin.

With an abrupt start Legolas came awake, so shaken he nearly fell off the bench and clutched at Glorfindel seated there beside him. In silent wonder he gazed at the legendary warrior, surprised to find him there but glad he was not alone, for the dream had been disturbing.

"Such a vision I have had," he remarked to the noble Vanyarin Lord and sat up, drawing his robe more modestly over his body.

"Oh?" Glorfindel was afraid to ask what it entailed.

"Aye. I watched a child part from his mother, a child remarkably like myself," said Legolas, "but it was not myself, for I was observing all that happened from a point beyond them all, somehow."

"That is remarkable, indeed," opined Glorfindel, for of course he knew all there was to know of Legolas Duilinion's history. In spite of himself, his heart leaped with hopeful anticipation. Perhaps the memories were returning now and soon all would be right between them. He smiled.

"Yes, but that is not what is so strange," added Legolas, peering at him closely, suddenly wondering what he was doing here when Elrond had promised none would know to find him in the centre of the maze.

"At the last moment, I became that child and the child became me. I looked into her face and knew her; she was my mother. She wept when I left her and I wept to leave her, though I did not know then it would be for such a long time." He paused and thought about what he had seen, reliving those last moments, his last view of her, the sound of her voice calling out to him as he was borne away swift over the fields. "The odd thing is that I truly do know her. She lives in Greenwood and she is not my mother, but she is my mother's great-grandmother. Her name is Curoniel and she it was who gave me my name."

Glorfindel stared in dumbstruck silence, unable to coherently analyse what he'd just been told. Here was the link, but it was so crooked and cramped he could not yet see how it brought the two warriors of the same name together. He frowned and shook his head, a faint shrug lifting his shoulders. "She lives in Greenwood?" he managed to say.

"She does," nodded Legolas and then he sighed. "Lord Glorfindel, I feel strongly that you know something about all this. Before you came to Greenwood so suddenly, none of these visions troubled my days. Now I cannot get free of them and all of them are tragic in some sense or other. Tell me what you have to do with the child of Curoniel."

"I?" Glorfindel faltered. Should he speak? Should he reveal his heart and what he believed to be true? Nay, for now he was more confused than ever. Still, here was at last a means to broach the unsavoury topic of the cure and encourage Legolas to flee back home. They were hard words to say and he stalled, hoping to find the mettle to do so. "Nay, I am no Lord here, Legolas; do not call me by title."

Legolas sighed in irritation; he could not understand this brand of modesty. In his homeland, one was rightly proud of one's lineage. "As you will, yet title or no you cannot deny your place in history. Everyone still thinks of you as a Lord and so then you are one. Now will you not answer?"

"Is that important to you?" Glorfindel asked abruptly, for he had not considered that he might now be beneath a prince of the forest.

"That you do not reply to what I ask? Aye, it is important and I wonder at the stubbornness of elven Lords in Imladris, for Lord Elrond failed to be direct as well," complained Legolas.

"Oh." Glorfindel stared into the scowling countenance, his eyes blank and bereft, and then he laughed. "Ai! I will answer you at once, then, and remove at least one quandary. You know there was an elf in Gondolin with your name," he began.

"Of course, everyone knows at least part of the story. I know all of it, for I was named for him and he was Curoniel's son, thus he and I are distant cousins. He died saving the life of the child Eärendil in a battle against orcs on the refugees' long peregrination to Sirion," explained Legolas. "Now, tell me your connection to my ancestor."

"What can I say to you?" Glorfindel stood and stared down at the beautiful elf, heart aching with both fear and longing, terrified to speak the words his soul would have him say, for what if he should be rebuffed? He could not stop those words and his reason but barely managed to alter them enough to spare him should the worst prove true. "I loved him. I love him still."

"You thought I was him, re-born," Legolas nodded, seeing the great turmoil in the Balrog-slayer's eyes. Then he rose and laid his hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "We have both been suffering, then. I think it is time we went to see Lord Elrond. This enigma must be unravelled." He moved to the gazebo and dressed himself and again he was unsettled that Glorfindel knew how to find him. Emerging, he passed his gaze anew over the renowned warrior, for prior to the strange dreams he had indulged a most thrilling illusion of the two of them together. "What are you doing here, Lord Glorfindel?"

"I?" Again Glorfindel was unwilling to admit the truth and his face grew warm thinking of what he had been sent here to do. Unbidden his eye left the fair visage and travelled over the lanky, long-legged prince, recalling the scent of him aroused, and barely managed to control his body's reaction. He cleared his throat and met the blue eyes again, startled by the heat in them. "I," he said again, "was sent here by Lords Elrond and Erestor to fulfil a request."

"Which obviously involves me," Legolas prompted. "The task must have been onerous to prevent your speaking it."

"Nay, not so, yet I was not willing to undertake their orders," explained Glorfindel. How could he just say all this? He barely knew this elf. "It is not a thing to be so ordered, not for me at least and not like this. It is something we must take up with the Lords and as they are awaiting our arrival, we should go."

"Indeed?" Legolas was intrigued, for Glorfindel was more uncomfortable than he had ever seen him before. Admittedly, he had not seen him often, but this was a far different demeanour than the highly riled warrior who'd burst Elrond's door to ensure his safety.

"Yes. Please, I know this is all very mysterious and secretive, but I cannot tell you here in this place what the cure for your torment entails. Hear Elrond out and if you agree with his treatment then I will not be displeased to be the one who…to aid you." The words stumbled out awkwardly and Glorfindel was grateful Legolas did not demand to know at once what he was talking about. Instead, Legolas watched him for a few minutes, holding his gaze and searching it, not pleased to be blocked from seeing deeper but not angry either. At last he simply nodded and led the way out.
TBC

Thank you Rozzan and Tourette :D The reviews mean a lot to me. Almost there, happy ended promised.
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Beautiful Dreamer

Part Five: Convergence