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Greenleaf & Imladris 12 - Prelude to Grief	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 5841 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Part VII: Intentions

Cermië TA 2510

The gardens of Elrond’s house were bathed in golden light this fine afternoon in July. Out by the summerhouse, the Lord of Rivendell watched in amusement as his sons and their Mirkwood friend labored amongst the exquisite roses that had been Celebrian’s pride and joy. Overseeing their efforts was Arwen who at the moment displayed all the authority of her mother and none of her gentle persuasiveness.

“She is still a little raw around the edges.”

Elrond glanced with a chuckle at Glorfindel who sat by his side on the soft, velvety grass. He and Erestor had joined him for a short while. Erestor, his head cradled in the golden captain’s lap, dozed lightly.

“Aye, but she will learn quickly now that she has put her head to it,” Elrond said. “She will make a proper Lady of the Valley and do her mother proud.”

“If she can school her over-tart tongue first,” Erestor sleepily put in, roused by their chatter.

The other two Elves laughed softly. Elrond returned his regard to the trio of would-be gardeners and their graceful taskmistress. It was good that his children had taken it upon themselves to care for their mother’s roses. In preserving that which she had so enjoyed they were keeping her memory close to them.

His eyes drifted to the summerhouse by the rose garden. It, too, evoked recollections of a time long past when the twins and Arwen had been but Elflings innocent of the world beyond and their family had been whole and happy. He wondered if his children would care to use it for their leisure. He knew he would not. It had been his gift to Celebrian after she’d given birth to the twins. He’d known she would delight in a place she could retire to in times of needed solitude or respite. As such, it would only remind him of their life together and that was much too painful to bear now that she was gone.

He put his pensive thoughts aside when the young quartet finally lay down their tools and came to join him. He grinned as Elladan scowlingly wiped a smidgen of earth from his cheek, which Elrohir so graciously pointed out to him.

“Will they do?” he inquired of his daughter.

“Well enough,” she smiled impishly.

“Well enough?” Elladan growled. “Is that all you have to say after making us toil so hardily?”

“Considering that Nana’s”—Mama’s—“roses may well have expired from your questionable ministrations, I think my words high praise as it is,” she retorted.

Elladan cast her a look so black, it drew renewed laughter from their elders.

“Peace, my children,” Elrond grinned. “I would have quiet and tranquility about me this lovely day.”

Elrohir glanced at him curiously. “Arwen says you are thinking of visiting Lórien this autumn,” he said.

“I am considering it,” Elrond admitted. “Celeborn and Galadriel were grieved not to have been able to see your mother before she left. I would bring comfort to them if I can.” He nodded in Arwen’s direction and added: “Your sister wishes to come and I would counsel you to join us as well.”

“Why, Ada?”—Papa—the Elf-knight asked.

“You and Elladan have expressed a desire to continue with your questing,” Elrond said gravely. “I will not stop you if ‘tis your wish. But I do think it prudent for you to think your reasons over before you go. Lórien will afford you the chance as Imladris and all its memories cannot.”

Elrohir exchanged a look with his brother. Consultation and agreement passed between them swiftly and silently.

“Very well, Ada, we will join you,” Elrohir said. He turned his eyes on Legolas. “Calenlass? You have oft said you would like to visit the Golden Wood. Mayhap you could come with us?”

Legolas sighed and shook his head. He looked toward the far end of the gardens where the Imladrin warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, conversed with several Mirkwood soldiers. The Wood-elves had arrived in the valley just two days past bearing Thranduil’s summons to his youngest son. For the Elvenking to send an escort to fetch him was a clear indication of his father’s desire for him to return home soonest.

“I dare not disobey my father,” he said. “He would not demand my presence were it not necessary. Troubles hound our borders without cease and my brothers are hard-pressed to hold the line. I am needed at home.”

Elrohir nodded and said no more on the matter. But the prince could not fail to espy the disappointment in his eyes.

“When shall we leave, Ada?” Arwen eagerly inquired.

“You are keen to go,” Elladan commented.

“I miss our grandparents,” she said. “And I have a wager to settle from so many years ago. ‘Twould be an opportune time to do it.”

“What wager is this, thel neth?”—young sister—Elrohir queried.

“One of grandfather’s border guards bet that I couldn’t shoot an arrow straight to save my life,” she huffed. “I intend to prove him wrong and have him on his knees before me begging forgiveness for demeaning my skills.”

“Poor fellow,” Elladan chuckled. “He will rue the day he offered so misguided an opinion.”

After a while, Glorfindel and Erestor rose and returned to the house. It had been a pleasant interlude but they had duties to attend to. Elrond soon followed with Elladan and Arwen. But Elrohir and Legolas remained behind. Though the younger twin had risen to his feet as well, he stood still for several minutes gazing impassively at the summerhouse and rose garden. He did not seem in the least troubled and in fact appeared remarkably composed. But Legolas suspected otherwise.

He regarded his friend with ill-concealed anxiety. Elladan had claimed that Elrohir’s calm was deceptive and the prince was inclined to believe him. Beneath the surface of the Elf-knight’s quiet demeanor still lay hurt and anger and some of the coldness of spirit that had so overcome him the day they learned of Celebrian’s fate. But he was slowly burying his simmering emotions beneath layer upon layer of feigned serenity. Soon they would be so skillfully hidden that even his own twin would be hard-pressed to know truth from pretense.

The prince wished he did not have to leave on the morrow. More than ever Elrohir needed his company. But he could not ignore his duties to the Woodland Realm. He’d already stayed away far longer than he’d asked leave for. Still, he longed to do something before he departed. Something that would help keep Elrohir anchored in hope and optimism and hold overbearing bitterness and despair at bay. Something that would be of deep-felt comfort even when he was no longer there in person to offer it.

I have missed this.

Elrohir’s confession to him in the wake of their unexpected coupling suddenly came to mind. He shivered as the memory of bewitching kisses and beguiling caresses edged into his consciousness; warm color swiftly suffused his cheeks. He was surprised to have even thought of it but now that the idea had presented itself he found himself inclined towards it. He was not certain if it was a wise course to follow but the Elf-knight’s need for whatever consolation he could give outweighed everything else and he firmly put wisdom and all other considerations aside. If there was more to his decision than his concern and affection for a beloved friend, he chose not to examine it at present. Mayhap another time.

Taking a deep breath, he took Elrohir’s hand and gently pulled him towards the house. The twin looked at him questioningly as they walked back.

Legolas simply said: “Let me warm you.”

Elrohir gazed at him in surprised wonderment. His twilight eyes glittered darkly. And then a faint, grateful smile curved his lips and he nodded.

Arm in arm, they entered the Last Homely House east of the sea.

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

Glossary:

Cermië – Quenya for July

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

The End
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Greenleaf & Imladris 12 - Prelude to Grief