Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Oh, Sorrow	By : narcolinde Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3486 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on The Lord of the Rings series written by JRR Tolkien.I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters, settings, or scenes. No money of any kind is earned through this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Acceptance

Father and son both startled, poised there upon either side of the threshold, surprised by the encounter here, now, and stood dumbly staring into each other's astonished grey eyes, hearts and souls alike awash in similar sensations of formless dread. It would not stay hid but bled from the inner chambers of the heart to be revealed in and recognised by those pairs of discerning eyes. Each became conscious of an eery feeling that the meeting was ill-ordained and wariness clouded features pulled taut under the strain of an indistinct and distant woe. Elrond recovered first, drew a short, sharp breath into his lungs and brought with it disappointment to join his fears, gaze sweeping his son from head to toe and back in blatant disapprobation.
"Elladan! Finally," he barked, scowling. "Thank Elbereth Faelon…" The thought died, snuffed out by the swift out-rush of air as he gasped and stood gaping, lips parted and brows arched high. "Elladan!" he exclaimed, voice shaking, and he reached for his son, broke into a tremendous smile as he laughed and pulled him near in a warm embrace. "Elladan!"
"Adar?" Elladan returned the clasp readily, understanding what it meant, smiling in happiness. "Aye, Ada, it is true," he said quietly and stood back the more to enjoy this rare example of complete approval and unhindered love from his father. They could only share their bright smiles, speechless as Elrond peered in wonder at his child, healed at last and at last at peace, the new bond a brilliant light that revealed his heart plainly, and Elladan suddenly blushed under the intense scrutiny, dropped his gaze. "You must have met him."
"I have," Elrond averred and that was enough to remind him of the dire situation; he sobered at once. "Where have you been?" he demanded, voice pitched low and brimming with reproof anew. He glanced covertly over his shoulder, hand raised to forestall whatever reply his son meant to utter, and quickly shut the door, pushing Elladan down the corridor in front of him. "What were you thinking, ionen?"
"I don't know what you mean," Elladan dissembled, embarrassed to have his father take him to task over his private life thus, thinking Legolas must have sent for aid on his own for the discomfort. It must have been rather disturbing to Legolas for Elrond himself to arrive and tend the minor soreness, and the absurdity of this scenario was not lost on Elladan, though he was too disconcerted by the abrupt change in mood to arrive at a more likely, and more alarming, cause for his father's presence. "I have not been anywhere; that is, I went to the infirmary and have been gone but an hour, no more."
"An hour! You might as well have been gone an Age," Elrond admonished darkly, shaking his head as he tugged Elladan along.
Elladan balked at this handling and refused to budge another step, more than a little disturbed to find Elrond exiting his rooms considering the manner in which he'd left Legolas. The implications presented themselves in all their alarming magnitude and fear gripped him. "What has happened?" Without waiting he made to push past Elrond, but found his arm detained in a crushing grip and he could not proceed.
"Nay, Elladan, you are not going back in there until we speak, but not here in the hall," hissed Elrond. "Keep your voice down; I do not want him troubled by our speech."
"I am not going anywhere," Elladan whispered back harshly, "until I have seen for myself he is all right." Again he made to pull away and again he was detained.
"He is not all right; nothing resembling that commonplace term describes the state in which you left him," Elrond complained and glared, brows drawn down in wrath as he dragged his eldest hastily down the corridor and shoved him rudely into the Twins' library. The large compartment provided both a buffer and a connection between the brothers' separate apartments, a space they used as a study and a private conference room where they planned out the campaigns for the fulfilment of their grim vow of vengeance. Once inside with the door firmly closed, Elrond stood back, hands propped atop his hips, and gave his son another scathing inspection. "You of all people should have known better."
"What do you mean? Speak plainly; what has happened to Legolas?" Anxiety escalated toward panic, though reason assured the Wood Elf had been resting easily when he'd left him.
"You bound your soul to him," Elrond spoke the words in tranquil resignation, recalling the vision and realising this had all been initiated long ago. "That day in Greenwood, you bound your soul to him then," he repeated from the depths of anguished despair, so weary of the ill-fate that dogged his House that he envied Elros keenly in that moment. As he had earlier, he lowered his body to a chair, hands momentarily shielding his eyes from sight, and then peered up into his son's anxious face, a sigh escaping. He could no more avert the coming storm than extinguish the sun. "Had I been there to counsel you, perhaps something could have been done to prevent this, but it is much too late now."
"Too late? Valar, what are you saying?" Elladan grabbed him at the arms and hauled him upright, shook him roughly. "Speak! What has happened here? Ai, Legolas!" He thrust his father back into the seat and rushed for the doorway, calling out in fear and panic, heart racing and mind reeling. "Legolas?" Just as he reached it the barrier swung open to reveal his mate on the opposite side.
"Ai, do not fear, Beloved; I am all right," the Wood Elf spoke, surprised at the commotion, then smiling over the relief on Elladan's face as he was swept into a tight embrace and held close. "All is well now that you are here," he whispered into the ebony hair flowing round his face, returning the embrace with joy.
"Ai, the thoughts in my head just now! I imagined…"
"Nay! Do not voice such things, Elladan, when nothing is wrong. All is well," Legolas interrupted quickly, believing that to announce such fears made them take on the substance of reality.
"Nay, pen neth, you are certainly not well," Elrond cautioned, coming to take Legolas from his son's arms and guide him to a chair. A quick check of the archer's vital signs initiated a satisfied grunt. "Better, but your temperature is still low; do you feel any pain?"
"Aye, Hiren, I ache everywhere as though I've had a fall from the heights of the canopy," complained Legolas and then felt heat suffuse his face, not liking to mention the other sort of discomfort afflicting him.
"That is from the power of Vilya; it will fade in time." Elrond rightly guessed but ignored the unspoken complaint, so to put him at his ease, and offered a kindly smile.
"Vilya? You had to use the ring on Legolas? But what has happened?" Elladan demanded again and joined them, much consoled to see his mate conscious and ambulatory. He sat on the arm of the chair where Legolas reposed, eyes flickering between him and his father. He noted the archer's wet hair and the loose sleeping garb he wore, but mostly detected such a deep sense of exhaustion that it frightened him.
"I am only weary," Legolas tried to calm him, but again Elrond contradicted his good intentions.
"There is no point in pretence, pen neth; he needs to know the truth."
"I am not sure I know it myself," admitted Legolas.
"Speak, Ada," pleaded Elladan. "I swear to you I left him resting quietly and have hardly been gone an hour."
"And again I say to you, ionen, that resting is not the term to use," the noble healer sighed and stood over them, arms folded before his heart as he gave his son another thorough scrutiny. "You must sense it, Elladan. Do you not realise why your soul-weary torment has ended?"
"Yes, it was the sealing of our bond," Elladan said, questioning eyes locked on Legolas as his hands collected the Wood Elf's and carried them to his lips; he kissed them gratefully, fervently. "It was your doing, Melethen, was it not? You said you would heal me with your light."
"Aye," Legolas smiled.
"A noble and honourable task, pen neth, but foolish in the extreme," chided Elrond softly and shook his head at them both. "You have suffered grieving sickness for long years and had nothing to spare, needing every spark of light your soul possesses to simply remain vital."
"Ai! That is a serious assessment, Adar," Elladan clutched the fingers in his grasp tighter and scanned the care-worn visage of his newly bound mate in dismay. "I did not mean you to endanger yourself, Melethen."
"Yes, it is quite serious, though I am much encouraged by the mutual nature of this bond," Elrond continued.
"Of course it is mutual," Elladan rejoined, irritated, and flashed him a belligerent glare. "It has been mutual since that day in Greenwood. Did you imagine I would allow him to give over his heart and soul and not do the same?"
"I was not certain," Elrond admitted, glancing at Legolas to judge how this all might be received. It was unlikely there had been sufficient time for Elladan to divulge his past exploits and numerous partners, even if he so intended.
"You do me an injustice, Adar," Elladan told him, but likewise stole a look into his beloved's confused eyes and sighed.
"What is the source of this doubt?" Legolas asked, perceiving Elladan's uneasiness and Elrond's uncomfortable air. It had occurred to him often during his growing years that there might be opposition to his joining with Elladan, but the elven Lord's earlier display of angry panic leant a different angle to the notion. Yet, he was as sure of Elladan as he was of himself.
"It is not a doubt any longer." Presenting a somewhat sheepish smile, Elladan raised Legolas and took the chair himself, settling the Wood Elf snugly onto his lap, and attempted a partial explanation. "I have not been… that is to say, there have been others…many others…" and discovered how horrible it was to admit this, especially under the silent scrutiny of his father's disapproving eye. Even as he paused, realisation overtook Legolas, an expression of confused surprise and chagrined sadness, a sudden flush suffusing his cheeks, but after a quiet moment he forced a laugh and hugged Elladan.
"Elbereth, what can it matter now? I didn't suppose you remained celibate all these years," he said, but honestly he hadn't really imagined anything else, his own needs so fully focused on Elladan and only Elladan. Even so, he could not justify feeling angry or disappointed, for the bond between them was but newly enjoined. To be here, to be with him now and forever more was enough. "It was not the same for you as for me; you came to majority nearly an Age before I was even conceived." This truth was not very comforting and could not entirely banish his insecurity. Had not Elrond warned him sternly and attempted to hasten him away from Elladan? Quickly he buried these fears behind a smile so genuine in appearance neither his mate nor his law-father suspected it was utterly false.
"That is a most forgiving attitude and I commend you for it," remarked Elrond, pleased with such a mature reply from so young an ellon. He smiled at the sylvan archer and noted the improvement in his appearance in the few minutes Elladan had returned to him. "I perceive this union is truly ordained by the Valar, for already you are recovering."
"Aye, Hiren, even as I told you: all I need is Elladan." Legolas agreed, eager to convince them, and grinned at his mate's anxious expression. "Do not fret; I will not merely recover, but become stronger than before."
"I had no idea you were going to do this immediately, tonight," Elladan explained, guilty over his failure to comprehend what was happening. He studied the cobalt eyes, distressed by the depth of Legolas' depletion and not fooled at all by the pat reassurances the Wood Elf expressed. "You were not in a fit state to undertake such a burden for my sake," he scolded gently, "though I am grateful and filled with love for your desire to help me."
"I was not consciously emptying my soul, Beloved," Legolas protested, "but I cannot regret it."
"Indeed, it must have been completely spontaneous, else you would not have let yourself go so far," Elrond agreed. "Healing in this manner is quite a rare gift and no doubt no one ever suspected you possessed it. Such things are subtle to detect and require either an early display of it or another trained in the art to perceive it. I suspect," Elrond mused as though thinking to himself, "that you received your education in this technique from my son, who must have given over to you a fair portion of his own light all those years ago. That is what initiated the bond between you and explains a great deal."
No wonder Elladan had been so needy, so demanding in his appetites; Elrond gave pause to consider the impact this consumption of others' light had produced upon the vale over time, the effect subtle but cumulative. For this cause he's had trouble securing a willing partner at times, yet none would venture to speak to me against him. Elrond wondered at his own blindness and discovered denial was an easy habit to perpetuate in oneself. He considered if there might not be some among his citizens who were in need of care for the loss of light suffered during their affairs with Elladan. One in particular came to mind.
"I did feel potent healing energy in the glen that day," Elladan recalled.
"I have always known it," announced Legolas, nodding to affirm the Elven Lord's words. "Elladan called Tawar (the Spirit of the Forest) to the clearing and commanded it to cure me. I remember hearing your voice clearly."
"Nay, I have no memory of that," Elladan was incredulous. "Truly?"
"Aye, truly." Legolas smiled and kissed him softly, sighing and settling his head atop his mate's shoulder.
"This being the case, you should be able to renew Legolas even as he has done for you, Elladan," Elrond opined, much relieved and rather intrigued by the tale. "I admit to surprise in hearing of this. Even I have not detected so selfless a gift for healing in you, ionen, and instead find you prone more to take than to give."
"Indeed? That is not a very complimentary remark," Elladan frowned, but Legolas was laughing.
"Truth seldom is," he said, "but I prefer the truth. Do not fret; I love you anyway and believe your uncharacteristic generosity is for me alone. You would not give your light to any other."
"Excepting blood kin, he is probably correct. It is against every being's instinct for preservation, even mine, to donate the vital light of one's soul. The energy I use for healing is generally not my own, but derived through Vilya." Elrond amended his earlier statement, finding he regretted the coldness inherent in those words, but his son was not appeased and glowered in gloomy umbrage. The learned healer could not deny the validity of his judgement of Elladan's character, which he knew to be accurate, and a fleeting thought surfaced, hinting that perhaps it was Legolas who had taken too much all those years ago, unbidden and instinctive though his action may have been. He did not harbour this theory long; nothing could be done about it now at any rate.
"Well, I don't know what to say to this," Elladan complained, but Legolas wriggled in his lap and he was reminded what benefits his investment had yielded up. He smiled brightly. "Ai, Elbereth, to have you here!" he whispered, nuzzling the fair golden mane. "To have you here. I never dreamed this could be, or rather, a dream I thought it would ever remain."
"I am here, Beloved, flesh and blood and spirit and mind, all yours for all time," Legolas murmured, "even as you are mine."
"May you find abundant joy in this union," Elrond announced placidly and could not suppress his smile as Legolas shivered out a sigh, face buried against Elladan's neck. "I will leave you and trust to the bond to work its own healing for Legolas as it has you, Elladan. Yet, we need to speak together privately, ionen, about these and other matters. Tomorrow will do, but let us not put it off beyond that. Bring Legolas to my study after the evening meal that I may assure myself of his recovery."
"Aye, Adar," Elladan answered, already bearing Legolas away back to his rooms.
With that Elrond gave them their privacy, much relieved over Legolas' health, and determined that he could still alter the outcome of the vision if not the vision itself. He would need to convince Elladan to give up the vow and concentrate instead on his new mate, but that was surely not an impossible task. A frown creased his brow. Elrohir will oppose it. He halted mid stride at the top of the landing, having given no thought before to his younger son's response to the new situation. He would not take lightly being supplanted in Elladan's heart by another. He was caught pondering this by his kinsman, Erestor bounding up the stairs toward him.
"Elrond, what is amiss? I have heard the most fantastic tale from Faelon." The seneschal paused on the staircase, spying his cousin deep in thought and at once attributing it to trouble. "Is Elladan all right?"
"Elladan is completely restored to health and vitality. It is his chosen mate whom I was called to attend." Now he waited, expecting an outburst of displeasure verging on disgusted outrage. He was not disappointed.
"Mate? Do not tell me he has united his soul to this Wood Elf; you cannot believe it true."
"There is no purpose in denying what my own eyes have beheld; they are bound soul to soul." Elrond offered a sardonic grin at the inarticulate snort of disdain that issued from his kinsman, complete with that sneering scowl that so intimidated the majority of people with whom the advisor came in contact. "What ails you, Erestor? Can you feel no happiness in your heart? Do you have cause to disparage my son's choice for his mate? If so, pray keep it to yourself unless it is something other than your persistent and unreasonable dislike of the Wood Elves in general and King Thranduil in particular."
"Elrond, there is nothing unreasonable about my assessment of the sylvan elves of Mirkwood," Erestor huffed. "Stubborn, intractable, ignorant, and…"
"Valorous to the point of sacrificing a third of their people for a cause we all thought noble, once." Elrond broke into the blossoming rant.
"I will not argue with you, knowing we can never find common ground on this issue." Erestor sighed, but he could not let it go. "That is Thranduil's child, the one Elladan kidnapped. How can you so willingly accept this union? Elladan will tire of him as quickly as he has every other lover he has taken during his dark times. Then what of the Wood Elf? What of Thranduil and Greenwood? I think we will discover vast, new regions of meaning for the concept of ill-fate."
"Nay, do not speak so, calling doom upon my son!" His words smote Elrond's heart, considering the premonition he'd received, hearing it sealed by his kinsman's impeachment, unfolding and bringing with it the ruin of them all. "Elladan loves him; it is not the same as his previous entanglements, and I accept it because it is complete and cannot be undone without grievous harm to both. In truth, it was enjoined years ago and only lacked the physical consummation to cement the bond for all time."
"I did not mean to anger you," Erestor watched at his cousin closely. "Despite your generous words, this union troubles you."
"I do not deny there may be difficulties for them ahead," he hedged, unwilling to strengthen this fate by speaking of it, "but they are not of the nature you imagine. If Elladan's constancy is all for which we need to worry, I think they could resolve it themselves, for Legolas would easily win Elladan's love utterly had he not done so years ago. I tell you Elladan is utterly besotted with this ellon and Legolas is equally smitten."
"Unlikely. As to Legolas, I know nothing, but I know Elladan better than you suppose and view him free of the distortion to which a doting father's perception is prone. He loves his freedom too well to love anything or anyone more, save his twin and his naneth."
"My opinion of my children is not confused by my love for them," Elrond contradicted this notion as he resumed movement and joined his kinsman on the stairs, both descending with the intent to adjourn to the Lord's study. "I know Elladan's flaws, but in this case the cause of his lechery may be the amount of faer-lim (soul-light) he relinquished long ago to salvage Legolas' life. He has been trying to replenish himself for centuries, successfully if temporarily, at the expense of his numerous partners."
"An interesting theory, for which I assume you have evidence," Erestor was not convinced. "What does the Woodland prince make of this?"
"He has known nothing of Elladan's life and habits; how could he? He accepts that his mate has not been chaste during their separation." Erestor issued another of his expressive snorts and Elrond trained an indulgent smile upon his kinsman. "You have not met Legolas. Once you do, no explanation will be required and you will recognise at once he is the perfect counterpart to our benighted warrior prince. Ah! Benighted no longer, Erestor; Legolas has healed him fully, completely!"
Erestor favoured him with a sceptical expression, but Elrond found suddenly that he was nearly exuberant, considering the news he was so eager to relate, and with a glad heart ushered his cousin into the deserted study where the long forgotten book still rested upon the seat of his favourite chair by the fireside. He crossed to the cupboard where he kept wine and spirits, pouring out two goblets of a prized ruby vintage, and handed one to his seneschal.
"We will drink to their health and happiness, Erestor, but mostly we will honour Legolas, who has brought hope back into this house." Before Erestor's dauntingly down-drawn brows proved the antecedent to some acid remark, Elrond raised a hand to silence it. "Hear me first! Elladan has chosen. He remains with us and surely his brother will choose the same rather than abandon him. For this alone I would love the young son of Thranduil, yet there are other qualities worthy of merit within him."
"Indeed?" Erestor's features transformed in surprise, for he had not imagined any of this. "In that case, I am glad for Legolas' inclusion in the family. To Legolas Thranduilion!" he announced solemnly, staggered that he should be pronouncing such a toast, and drank with his kinsman.

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

The grey veil descended, heavy, suffocating, divisive and isolating, deadening sounds vital to survival here in the deeps of the forest where the tainted trees were greatest in number and wholesome wood confined to solitary, besieged eyots of green within the wet, grey gloom. Two Wood Elves drenched and dripping clung to the topmost boughs of two of these remnant allies, a narrow inroad of shadow-blighted timber between them. Below, a large party of Orcs milled in muttering complaint, a distinct note of victorious anticipation in their unquiet and unholy speech. They were waiting for their masters, satisfied their prey was well trapped and all but in their hands. They could afford to be patient, though such was unnatural to their crude minds. From time to time one or another would come near and climb half-way up one of the trees to harry the captured elves, hoping to elicit some reaction of fear. They were never successful and this insouciance served only to anger the throng into a momentary frenzy of cursing and roaring of Black Speech and low, animal noises.
The rain beat down upon the doomed pair, a drowning torrent whose weighty drops fell so fast one upon the other as to be continuous chains, endless lengths of fluid producing a pounding percussion of blurred cacophony, pummelling the foliage and the bark of the beeches in relentless, unceasing clamour. It was Annan Ross, the season of Long Rain in the Woodland Realm, and the lack of sunlight, however muted and diffuse the leafy verdure rendered it during other seasons, made this the preferred season for the Wraiths to go hunting. They hunted souls, spirit-light to nourish their strange existence, poised betwixt decay and vitality.
A single elvish fëa could sustain them long centuries, far beyond the number afforded them when they were merely men. If no sylvan soul could be found, a human's would do, though such rendered up only a few years of life. Of course, the purest and strongest spirits were reserved for the Necromancer, and all his minions knew better than to break this tenet of the Tower. Thus, the Orcs waited under the pouring deluge in anxious excitement, for to them would go the leavings, the physical essence of the First-born which nourished them in a profoundly baser way.
Across the bleak interval of diseased trees, the Wood Elves held one another's eyes, unwilling to look away for surely these were the last moments of life to be savoured, and they would not spend them in dread, terror, and useless regrets. They would spin them out into an eternity of seconds, endless little slices of infinity just for them to share, alone, removed from all they loved and cherished now save the set of eyes peering through the clammy liquid shroud; eyes in which shone the brilliance of the Flame Imperishable, impervious to this monsoon, this death, this utter subversion of all that made them First-born.
No words were required for this communion; no words could ever express its depth of meaning, its range of emotion. Paramount in each heart rang the question, the desperate desire to discover a way to evade this end, a key to unlock them from this fate and set their spirits free before the Necromancer arrived. There had to be a way; it was unthinkable that Eru would permit such an evil perversion of his beloved Children without so much as a glimmer of hope for escape. They need only open their minds and seek; the answer would come.
How they longed for the comfort of touch, the clasp of hands, the embrace of consoling arms! Fingers and all four limbs were fully employed in holding to the spindly, water-logged branches. Any loosening meant a fall into that crowd of grotesque representatives of Melkor's malice. Then this brief stretch of eternal peace would be gone, replaced with tortures too vile to permit into the mind.
Might that be the way?
Perhaps, yet…
Some atrocities cannot be borne and the fëa must disengage from the abused flesh housing it, flee away to Mandos unseen, Free!
Nay, if this fails then only untold suffering is the payment for such folly, and then the rending Darkness of un-being forever, our vital fire stolen to fuel the Enemy.
It is a chance, and I will take it whether you will or no.
Do not! Do not, I beg! Stay here with me!
I cannot stay, but mayhap my going will give you the chance to flee. If so, take it!
Nay! I cannot leave you here among them!
If an opportunity opens and you refuse to fly, you rob me of victory and I will never forgive you. I will become your nemesis and fill your heart with pain forever.
No. You do not mean this.
I am going.
No!
There was nothing more to share; eternity shattered as she dived through the branches, surprising the creatures guarding the base of the tree, toppling one, killing it with its own dagger before it could regain composure, before the others were upon her. Loud was their raging fury and brutal the beating they supplied, though she defended herself ably for a few minutes. Even an Elf cannot overcome so many numbers with one long knife, her only comrade already bereft of arrows and too far way to give aid. His screams were piercing and filled with terrified horror at what transpired. He remained frozen in the treetop perch, unable to avert his sight as they stripped her, wounded her, did unspeakable things to her body, all whilst she was still in it. She was still inside, hroa refusing to relinquish its precious animus. And then she lay still finally, though she had cried out only once through it all, a plea to her son to run, a plea he could not obey.
Nana!
Without thought he followed her down, down into that awful place of pain and persecution and debasing debauchery, long knife in hand, death in his heart and revenge his only salvation now. He hit the ground hard and all the air left his lungs; he stared through wide eyes not into a multitude of cruel and leering orcish maws but upon a fair visage, a noble face and calm, compassionate eyes the colour of the rain, long inky tresses hanging down in dripping tendrils about him, the light of his aura bright with flares of red and gold and violet.
You!

The warrior, for so he was garbed and the sword in his hand proclaimed, made no answer, merely inspecting him closely, his gaze penetrating and vaguely…hungry.
"I knew you would come," Legolas murmured, uneasy but playing out the scene, for here was his saviour come to rescue him. Too late, as always.
"Indeed? Well, truly, it is not surprising to discover me in my own home, but to find you here… That is quite unexpected."
"It is? Your home?" This did not make sense and Legolas struggled to understand. The glorious light of Elladan's faer-lim wavered and changed, sharp spikes of rich silver emanating from his heart, bearing with it the unmistakable heat of lusty attraction. Hot with passion yet cold with…hatred? Nay! "What is wrong with your light?"
"My light?" A harsh laugh resounded and the image sharpened, changed, lost the blurry veneer of watery haze; the sword vanished, the arm holding it instead crossed over its counterpart before the broad chest. "Nothing is wrong with it. What are you talking about?"
"Valar!" Legolas sat up with a jolt, heart pounding and mind whirling as he gazed at his Beloved, who was not his Beloved at all. A shudder worked through him to see this doppleganger and he gathered the loose robe over him more fully, realising he had been lost in dreams and this person had been ogling his exposed nakedness for Eru alone knew how long. He drew air into his lungs and met those cool, grey eyes so like and so unlike Elladan's. "You are Elrohir."
"I am," he confirmed, head cocked to one side as he studied the person who had stolen forever his rightful place in Elladan's heart. He could understand the attraction, but not the eternal commitment. He would not mind a romp in the sheets with Legolas himself and a salacious grin spread over his features as he imagined it, eyes passing slowly over the half-clothed figure. The Wood Elf hastily gathered his garment more chastely about him and Elrohir laughed to see a quick flush of colour stain the fair cheeks. "You are Legolas."
"Aye." Legolas decided he did not like being observed in this way, vulnerable beneath that mocking, appraising stare, and stood to gain a more equal footing with his mate's twin. "I thought for a second that you were Elladan," he remarked without thinking.
"Really? I would have thought you could tell us apart, since he is supposedly your mate." Elrohir jeered, pleased with having the advantage and determined to keep it. Legolas responded to his presence and this could be developed into an interesting set of circumstances. It did not escape his notice that Legolas had let him approach unchallenged, permitting him to stand in appreciative contemplation for some minutes. Perhaps he could prove his point to Elladan beyond all doubt. "Where is my brother, by the way?"
"I do not know," Legolas wrapped his arms tight about his body and looked about the space, a small, roof-top terrace Elladan had assured him was private and visited by no one besides himself. It was furnished with several comfortable lounges for relaxing beneath the sun, as he had been doing just moments ago. His eyes drifted up to squint against the brilliant light and the cloudless sky, blue and bright; he suppressed a sigh. Even here I am not free. "I must have slipped into reverie; I was dreaming."
"A pleasant dream, I hope." Elrohir smiled and unfolded his arms, reached the right one forward. The motion made the sylvan shy back as though he expected an attack. "Peace! I am only welcoming you to Imladris, pen neth." He offered his open hand for the traditional clasp between warriors. Hesitantly the Wood Elf took it, another shiver racking his bones as though to touch him was a despicable act. Elrohir frowned, uncertain what this portended.
"I thank you for your welcome," Legolas lied, wishing Elladan would return from wherever he had gone. He has left me again. Twice in the course of mere hours! That did not bode well for their future as mates and he shuddered as he returned Elrohir's strong swordsman's grip, noting it was the opposite hand to that which Elladan favoured. "Nay, not a pleasant dream at all," he admitted and passed a nervous hand through his tangled hair.
"That is regrettable; someone so fair should be subject only to fair dreams," Elrohir flirted and enjoyed again that faint rise in colour.
"I have not had a fair life," Legolas barked, angry to have this… impostor make light of his history. The other, more obvious cause for this remark he firmly shoved into the background of his thoughts. His mate's brother could not be teasing him for venal purposes; it had to be ignorance and a rather callous heart. He hardened his own against Elrohir.
"So I have been told," Elrohir dipped his head, duly chastened, and silence grew between them, uncomfortable, charged with misunderstanding and a heavy, feral tension. A subtle sound of of faintly clattering dish-ware claimed his notice and that of his uneasy quarry law-brother!. In a heartbeat Legolas was through the door and down the spiral stairs.
"Elladan?" he called as he ran, wary tones underscoring his flustered anxiety. "Where have you been?" he demanded, relieved to see the familiar light of gold, vermilion, and violet surrounding his mate, pulsing with gentle love, but angry to have been subjected twice to such importune meetings with his Beloved's kin.
"I but went to secure something to eat," Elladan reassured, coming to take the Wood Elf in his arms, sensing his tension and immediately feeling guilty for causing it. He buried his nose in the golden mane and breathed in the woodland scent he had so quickly come to associate with both desire and contentment. "I am sorry I…"
"Muindor, here you are," Elrohir leaped from the stairs and met his brother's astonished gaze over Legolas' shoulder, his expression a strange combination of smug delight and dark menace. Why should he have you instead of me? This thought he shielded from Elladan's mind.
"Elrohir!" Elladan stood back and peered down into Legolas' perturbed face. "No wonder you are displeased; it must have been a shock to see him come through the door. Forgive me?"
"Aye, though shock is too mild a term to use. I came awake to find him standing over me staring in a most unsettling manner, and I thought at first it was you."
"Ai! You were dreaming again."
"I was."
"Please forgive me; I should not have left you alone."
"Nay, you should not. I need you near me until my light is restored; did not your Adar confirm it?"
"He did; you are right to be angry."
"What is all this about light?" Elrohir interrupted, displeased with the easy way they confided one to another, his presence all but forgotten. Indeed, it was the truth for both startled and turned to him abruptly, sheepish expressions overtaking their faces. Elladan's quickly changed to one of restrained anger.
"Muindor, I will explain later, but if you do not mind we would like a time alone," he announced firmly, eyes overcast with the promise to settle with Elrohir for disturbing his mate so severely. He detected an unmistakable element of arousal from his brother, and if he could sense it so could Legolas. The idea brought a glaring surge of hot jealousy with it.
"Of course," Elrohir smiled, acknowledging Elladan's challenge silently, well pleased with the outcome of his impromptu decision to confront the interloper. "Legolas, it is a pleasure to welcome you to our family, pen neth." He bowed formally and strode past them to the exit, gloating over a third advance of crimson to the Wood Elf's ears.
"Valar!" Legolas exclaimed, disengaging from Elladan and drifting to the table where a tray reposed, the scent of fresh blueberries reminding him of his empty belly. "He is rather disconcerting and does not like me much, I fear." He popped a handful of the fruit into his mouth, eyed his mate and found Elladan troubled and wary.
"I do not think that's the right word, Legolas. My fear is that he finds you just as appealing as I do," Elladan decided it was best to confront the issue head on. He needed to hear Legolas' affirmation that no other could replace him, especially his twin.
"No, he does not like me at all, no matter if he finds me attractive," Legolas insisted, evaluating Elladan's anxious eyes carefully. The comely visage abruptly turned from him in hopes to hide a spreading stain of guilty shame within the grey depths, but Legolas caught it and felt a chill surround his heart. He had expected the heat and anger of jealousy, not the uncomfortable pall of disgrace. "Elladan?"
"He will try to take you from me," Elladan mumbled darkly, "and I will not allow it."
"I should hope not," Legolas snorted, but his bravado was false and the strange mood that enveloped his mate infected him with its weighty gloom. "I am yours; you claimed me from death. Nay, it is more than that, Elladan; you stole me from the Necromancer. There is no other who can hold my heart."
"You don't understand," Elladan faced him, seeing that this was all too true. Legolas was barely past majority. Had he ever experienced the raw need for base, physical release? Elrond had counselled his sons that such was a trait bequeathed through their mortal ancestry, little understood by those of purer bloodlines. Consumed by grief, held to life by Elladan's light, any hungers Legolas might have felt would be bound up in the face and form of his saviour. My face and form; Elrohir's face and form. Desperate to make him understand, fearful to endure the disgust that must accompany such enlightenment, Elladan spoke dire words that fell short of the explanation he would give. "He will not abide this; he will see to it that our bond is broken."
"Impossible!" Legolas was incredulous and stared, hands on hips, as Elladan stalked the room in tense distraction. The expression on his mate's face forced him to consider if such a design was truly unachievable, his obvious dread of it a terrible blow. He does not think my commitment is genuine. Legolas had to sit down. "You doubt me."
"Nay, I do not," yet even Elladan must acknowledge the half-lie in his voice and grimaced in frustration, shrugging as though some unpleasant substance draped him too closely in its noisome folds. "Yet I am older and know more of such things than you, Legolas."
"Ah, so I am too young; the complaint of my Adar falls from your lips now," he nodded and offered this bitterly acerbic rejoinder. "No, let me tell you what this is about, Elladan: you have been inconstant and it troubles your heart; shame for it fills your eyes." He stood again, pointing in accusation, his tone cold and remorseless.
"Nay, that is not so," Elladan raised his voice accordingly, cheeks flushed dark. "You speak as though I have betrayed our bond and this is not true."
"Isn't it? You admitted there have been many others."
"And you said I was not to be blamed!"
"I am not the one raising doubts! I am not the one whose actions have tainted our union!" Both were shouting now.
"We were not mates until last night, Legolas, and so anyone with whom I may have shared my time was not significant…" Elladan's countenance went white upon discovering he could not utter this untruth. He swallowed, seeing Legolas observe this, and turned away abruptly, slashing his hand through the air as though to annihilate the unsavoury thoughts running between them. "That cannot count as infidelity."
"We have been bound to one another since that day in Greenwood," Angry and hurt, Legolas followed and put himself in the way until he was nose to nose with Elladan, and then suddenly realisation flooded his mind. Stunned, he backed up a pace, lips ajar, shaking his head in denial, and when he spoke again his voice had lost all the force of wrath. "No. Valar. I have been bound to you, but not the other way round. I had nothing to give that would hold you, while readily I absorbed your light and kept it in me. Otherwise…" He shivered.
"Let us not think on that," Elladan pleaded, calmer, and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Yes, it was my doing; I claimed you then and have always considered you mine. So much so that I stayed away from Elrohir in order to prevent him knowing. Even then, though you were but a child, because you were but a child, his every thought would be to break the bond we share."
"Why would he do this?" Legolas demanded, but Elladan remained quiet. "All these years, I believed you stayed nearby in hopes to come and free me from Thranduil's authority, to take me away with you home, here."
"That is so, but also I had no wish to share what I found in you with Elrohir. He and I are close, Legolas, in ways you cannot understand."
"Because you are twins?" Something about this was very unsettling and Legolas' heart cramped with uneasy dread. The beliefs that had framed the reality of his life were crumbling into fragments, little more than the frail fantasies of childhood.
"Aye, because we are twins, because we are brothers, because we share more than the usual link between siblings," Elladan explained in miserable despair and chanced a quick scrutiny of Legolas' eyes; they were filling with sorrow.
"More than brothers, more than siblings, identical twins," Legolas droned, trying to reason it out, why all this would cause Elrohir to do him harm. "Together always, sharing everything: thoughts and feelings and…" His heart gave a sudden lurch as the truth leaped into his mind and he exhaled a horrified gasp. "Oh! He is my rival!"
"What say you?" Elladan's face suffused with embarrassed mortification. "He is certainly not!" he denied and turned away.
"Yes, or rather I am now his rival, as he sees it," Legolas nodded as he considered what this meant and a shudder of revulsion ran over his frame. "Elbereth, you have lain with him as you did with me." He felt ill and had to sit down, pushed Elladan away as he came near to aid him. "Nay! Touch me not!" Legolas' heart sank; not only had there been many other lovers in his mate's life, but one tied to him in a bond nearly as strong as theirs, perhaps stronger in some respects.
"Legolas, it is not as you imagine," Elladan explained. "It has not been like that since our Nana… We have not been together like that for long centuries of time."
"You should have explained before…" Legolas could not finish the sentence. Bitter rage ignited and he rose, walked away and back in frustrated misery.
"I never wanted you to learn of it." Elladan watched the fury peeling off the Wood Elf in long simmering tendrils of fiery gold and swallowed. "It is over between us, that aspect of our relationship. He and I have not shared in the ways of mated couples for many centuries." The look Legolas flashed him was filled with incredulous dismay and a hollow laugh accompanied it.
"Does abstinence undo a bond between souls?" Legolas countered sharply. "That is ludicrous." He paced the floor, angry and humiliated. How was he to reconcile this situation? All these long years of waiting and Elladan had been soul-bound centuries before Legolas even knew of his existence. In light of this, their newly forged bond seemed trifling, inconsequential.
"I understand your anger, but I never mean to rejuvenate the physical bond with Elrohir. We share the fraternal bond of brothers now, as we should," Elladan insisted, hearing how insubstantial his words sounded, and sighed sadly. "I had never any desire to hurt you."
"Then you should have spoken of this before I gave myself over to you, body and soul," Legolas snapped.
"Aye."
Legolas peered at Elladan, irritated to see the proud warrior hapless and helpless in the shame of this ugly revelation. He could not but doubt his internal sense of history; perhaps he had really made more of his link to Elladan than truly there was. Perhaps Adar was right all along. If so, he had made an error of terrible proportions that could not now be eradicated this side of the sundering sea.And I cannot sail, leaving her unavenged. Such was unacceptable and even now his entire being ached for Elladan, yearning for union. But is that solely because I gave over most of my light? I am sure of him, am I not? As sure as I am of my own heart, and that is his alone.
Yet the memory of Elrohir's flagrant appreciation lingered in his body and a thrill ran over him. Alarmed, Legolas fought the sudden heat and stormed into the bedchamber where the evidence of their consummation scented the air richly. He inhaled it and calmed. Elladan broke from the illicit relations, he reasoned; it was Elrohir of whom he need be wary. He immediately seized upon these thoughts, replacing his fears with anger at Thranduil for keeping them apart so long when clearly Elladan had needed him as much as he had needed Elladan. If not more. He returned his sight to the guilt stricken ellon who had followed him and determined he would fight to keep their bond vital.
"I have known sorrow worse than this, though I never imagined you would cause me so much as a moment of heartache, Elladan," he said quietly, arms locked over his chest, and registered his mate's groan with little sympathy. "Yet I've no right to hold this against you, for it was long before my life began. You are right, of the bond between twins I am wholly ignorant. The deception, though…" he broke off again, pacing to and fro once more, aura crackling with rage. Gradually he reined it in, for he had decided and would not gainsay his chosen course. "Nay, even that I will not hold against you. I forgive your deception."
"You do?" Elladan found this did not stir him to joy as he'd imagined the declaration would, for Legolas' manner was distant and haughty, the acquittal all of words and none of feeling. "I am glad," but he sounded sad and uneasy instead.
"Yes, as am I," Legolas nodded briskly, unable to bring forth a smile, and looked away.
Silence surrounded them, cold and cloying like a winter mist over a stagnant marsh, neither able to move forward to reconciliation.
"Tawar nín beria," muttered the Wood Elf with another deep sigh, dissatisfied with the outcome. What good would it do to repeat his complaints? Had he not decided to forgive? Aye, but he has done nothing in the way of reparation.
"I also neglected to mention," Elladan said apologetically, contrite gaze searching his mate's' cold, closed countenance, "we have always shared everything." His eyes grew large at the horrified expression that crossed Legolas' face. "Not lovers!" he blurted hurriedly, "and certainly never my mate, Legolas. Never. I meant these rooms, the apartment and the terrace. You must believe me!" He was on his knees now, terrified that he would lose this pure spirit he had cherished so long and only just claimed for his own.
"Yes, I believe you," Legolas frowned, sighing, and then shrugged, a false gesture of unconcern, devastated but unwilling to relinquish Elladan to his brother uncontested. He is mine as much as he is Elrohir's. They were strong thoughts meant to console him, but failed."We will have to move out of this house."
"What?"
"Move out of this apartment, build our own house. I want some distance between us and him, Elladan. He has free access to this place you said was yours alone." Everything in Elladan's posture revealed Elrohir had never before been barred from his presence. "Sharing this one will not suffice now that I understand Elrohir's claim upon you."
"He does not have a claim on me," Elladan insisted, disconsolate for Legolas still did not understand him. "I have hurt him, Legolas, deeply, precisely because he no longer has a claim. You are living evidence of that truth, and he will try to destroy what I have with you." He paused and searched the ellon's eyes, seeing the confusion there, fear and desire and love all warring within them, and smiled gently, sadly. "We are twins, identical in appearance. You cannot help but be drawn to him as you are to me."
Startled by this insulting indictment of his morals, containing as it did an element of truth Legolas could not yet encompass, he exhaled a sharp breath and stomped from the room. "All this perversion revealed and yet somehow I am the guilty one," he hissed. "What is to be done?" he mourned. "You concede the battle to Elrohir without the least effort to prevail and blame me for the failure." He heard Elladan enter the room but refused to look upon him, running up the stairs to the rooftop terrace. He stood at the very edge of the platform and gazed upon the lovely valley and its elegant city, thinking it was all a cheap façade to hide a variety of corruption more foul because of its purported purity. I have come to a dark fate. Yet such was his lot anyway and at least he was alive, at least he could fulfil the promise he'd made. He would need Elladan to achieve that goal.
"I do not mean to insult you," Elladan offered quietly. "No more do I surrender to him that which I love beyond all comprehension. I meant only to be honest, to reveal the fulness of the life into which I have drawn you. It will not be easy, Legolas. You must trust me; I know that I can make you happy here."
"Happy!" Legolas snorted and turned to him with a sneering scowl. "You truly understand nothing, Elladan. What happiness can there be for me after what I have seen?" He waved away the objections about to be announced and moved beyond the range of reaching arms. "It matters not. I am here; we are mates; all else will follow in its own time."
"What do you mean?" Elladan did not like the darkness underlying this dramatic proclamation and again sought to envelop Legolas in protective arms, regretting he had said anything at all. Again he was shunned.
"Who else knows about this?" Legolas ignored the query and evaded Elladan's grasp, thinking back to Elrond's adverse reaction to his presence, a sour scowl marring his features. If the elven Lord understood and preferred his sons' mutual bond to that of a sylvan spouse, the situation was bizarre indeed, and his standing here quite insubstantial. What else could the great Lord's desperate actions mean? Yet, Elrond had reversed himself quickly. Mayhap he is glad of our bond, believing my coming here will restore his children to a more normal interaction.
"No one," sighed Elladan, defeated, and removed himself from Legolas' side to drop heavily into a chair. He covered his shamed face with his hands. "You must swear never to tell of it."
"Of course!" Legolas watched him, displeased with such a weak response. None of this fit his concept of Elladan. But what do I know of him beyond the bold, bright spirit light given to me so long ago? Nothing, and what he might have become during the long years since their first meeting, lacking so much of his own resources to cope with the violent world in which he was immersed, was on display before him now. How easy it must have been to give in to Elrohir under such conditions, trading the intimacy of the body for vital light.Light nearly identical to his own. This at last broke through his angry disappointment, permitting a version of the sordid affair that he could truly forgive. "Ai, Elladan, do not be so distraught," he suddenly announced, moving to envelop the stricken warrior in his arms. "I would never reveal a secret from your heart."
"My thanks," Elladan murmured against the crown of flaxen hair, slipping his hands under the robe to feel the strength and warmth of the Wood Elf's sinewy body, proof that this was all real and he had not yet lost him. "I did not mean to disparage you, truly." Just when he thought the turmoil ending, Legolas pulled away, wrapping the fabric close about him, his face the very picture of miserable vulnerability.
"Words have a power of their own, Elladan. One ought not to say what one does not mean." Legolas stared in disbelief. He would forgive while this arrogant half-elf would pretend the insult was meaningless. How had he come to be so wrong in his thoughts, in his very heart? And now it is too late, even as Adaren warned.
"Nay, you are right; that is not what I meant," Elladan babbled, not sure how to fix this. If he tried to make Legolas see it would only anger him more. "Forgive me, Beloved, there is no fault on your part."
"We are mates now," Legolas sighed, unhappy that such joyful words could be so filled with sorrow. "We will have to make the best of things. I am weary, Elladan. Will you call for someone to refresh the bedding? I would sleep."
He did so and cautiously laid down beside his mate, pleased when he was not spurned, and dared to gather Legolas against him. He did not attempt more, though he would mend the rift in passionate release, feeling tell-tale dampness on the cheek resting against his chest. A ragged breath further confirmed the Wood Elf's new grief and Elladan berated himself for being its source. He rubbed soothing caresses against Legolas' back and silently promised never to do anything that would give him cause for tears again.
"Do not leave me this time," Legolas warned, voice flat and bereft of all hope.
"Nay, never," Elladan promised.

***********************************
"A most promising beginning, from the sound of it." Below, in the comfort of the Elven Lord's study, Erestor gave his kinsman a wry grin and raised his glass again. "To Legolas Thranduilion, undoubtedly the perfect counterpart to Elladan, our benighted warrior prince."

TBC
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Oh, Sorrow