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Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 8956 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
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Aearlinn - Gwaedh Prestannen

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Evening on the Day after the Cinnamon Poisoning ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You are certain of this?" Elladan spoke from the doorway of his father's bedroom where he leaned against the framed opening, his back to Elrohir, gazing into the chamber as if he had never seen the room before.

This was false, of course, and the fact that the furnishings hadn't changed one iota since his earliest recollections only encouraged his scrutiny. Nothing could be so staid and resistant to alteration, but he could find not the slightest indication of anything new. He frowned, noting the solid walnut canopied bed, heavy, substantial, and boasting a masculine elegance that was purely reflective of Elrond's taste. It dominated the room; even the cumbersome paired clothes closets could not compete for attention and the substantial secretary near the window, overloaded with parchments and scrolls, seemed a child's school desk so much did the bed dwarf every other article of furniture.

Celebrian had never liked it much, he recalled, finding the swirled turnings of the posts and the equally fanciful carving of interlocking swans and waves across the headboard a bit ostentatious. There was nothing about the decor which hinted at her presence in any way and it was as if she had never lived there. In truth, she had spent little time in Elrond's suite, having a comfortable apartment of her own on the ground floor, just next to where Aragorn's rooms likewise abutted the flower garden she had so lovingly tended. In many ways, Elladan felt those rooms and that retreat of bright blooms were the centre of the Last Homely House. There he had spent so many happy days of his childhood.
Growing up, Elladan hadn't considered there was anything amiss to warrant separate quarters; he never questioned the lengthy visits he and his brother spent with Celebrian in Lothlorien. This was simply the way of things in his family. It was how they lived; it was all he knew. He remembered the day he'd discovered his parents' marriage to be a rather one-sided love affair and experienced anew the shock he'd felt to see his Naneth in the arms one of Glorfindel's captains. Elladan had been all of forty and he'd thought then that his whole world would come crashing down around him. He couldn't imagine his Adar's response, envisioning his Nana run out of Imladris for this breech of faith, the shame of her indiscretion staining her forever.

He still didn't know if Celebrian's explanation had been easier to bear or worse. Elrond knew she loved another and indeed had never returned the full fervour of his affections for her. There would be no reprisals; the couple would remain as the elder twin had always observed them: loving parents devoted to their sons' upbringing and future happiness.

"Quite certain; I overheard everything the two discussed and was present for the examination. Unofficially, of course," replied Elrohir curtly, watching his brother's reaction closely, for Elladan shielded his thoughts these days, but nothing in his manner betrayed his sentiments regarding the news. "What are you so interested in over there?" He joined Elladan, staring over his shoulder into the room.

"The curtains and canopy have been changed, but it is just the same white gauze used when the season warms," remarked Elladan.

"This surprises you? Ada always has the draperies switched this time of year."

"That's just the point. It's as if nothing untoward has occurred here. I wonder if Legolas has his own rooms now."

"Nay, according to Glorfindel he sleeps here, when he sleeps indoors, and all his belongings are in this suite."

"What belongings? There's nothing in here that hasn't been in this room since Ada built the house."

The twins shared a silent look and in tandem stepped over the threshold. They moved over to the clothes presses and Elladan pulled one open.

"Look, here are Ada's robes, just as they always have been." He yanked the door of the second and as it yawned wide the scent of cinnamon filled his nostrils. "Valar!"

"Ah, those are the tainted garments. It was a brutal trick to play on anyone and banishment is too mild a sentence," said Elrohir.

"Aye, it was."

Neither twin seemed prepared to discuss the unexpected addition to their family and conversation paused. Elladan reached in and lifted out the only formal garb hanging in the space, a long dove grey velvet outer-robe, intricately embroidered with stylised wolves in silver and trimmed at the cuffs of the wide, belled sleeves with rich salt-and-pepper fur. Both brothers arched critical left brows at this, imagining Legolas in such a thing, as the creation was replaced. It was meant to be worn with a set of midnight blue silk leggings and a sleeveless tunic of dusky rose finished in mithril braid around the high neck. Hanging beside these were two more tunics, one in supple leather the colour of malachite and the other a lightweight flannel dyed that shade of marine blue that bespoke squalls over a violent sea. These and two pair of low leather boots were the only clothes in evidence, and in comparison to the over-packed capacity in their father's closet the sylvan's possessions seemed scant indeed.

"I heard he had everything burned," commented Elrohir quietly, for he found the bareness of the clothes press unsettling for reasons he couldn't make himself confront.

"Nay, just the undergarments," Elladan corrected and opened one of the uppermost drawers to demonstrate the point. Well, there were no small clothes within it but it was hardly empty, though the contents were the last sorts of objects one might expect to find in a place for storing apparel.

A long hunting knife in its scabbard rested atop the folded length of woven leather used to secure it about the Wood Elf's slender frame. Beside this was a scatter of arrowheads hand-crafted from glossy black obsidian, the delicate scallops along the lethal points exact and perfect. There was a hand-made, double-tubed reed flute. A flint and a glistening golden clot of a striker stone were revealed when Elladan opened the tightly drawn leather pouch that housed them. A whetstone resided amid a strange assortment of shells, agates, and variegated pebbles. Feathers shed by many kinds of wild birds common to the valley mingled with a handful of faintly faceted green gems still locked within their lithic matrix. The cut crystal stopper from a decanter clinked as it rolled into a fragment of pottery, brightly patterned in a blue floral motif on white. At the very back, a stubby but solid dirk, two-edged and well-cared for, fronted a stack of square parchment sheets weighted down with a large round river rock.

Elladan sighed in a melancholy way and took up the shard with a shake of his head, for this assortment of odds and ends, excepting the weapons, reminded him of the collection Aragorn had kept in a tin box at the back of his own closet when he was just a boy. "Adar has taken a child for his lover. It's unconscionable."

"You were willing enough to do the same," rejoined Elrohir bitterly.

"And so were you!" Elladan shot back, his tone equally acidic and reproachful. He glared at his twin, eyes filled with both remorse and remonstrance, clenching his fist tight around the remnant of the china cup until the sheered edge cut his skin. "We can't continue this way, Elrohir. It's time to stop hating him. Stop blaming Legolas for the rift between us. If you need me to accept responsibility in order to forgive yourself, so be it."

"I have done nothing that deserves reproachment, from myself or anyone else. I am not the one who sought to make a dying Elf his mate. You and Adar must share whatever weakness of character made you susceptible." Elrohir drew himself up in indignation. "Yes, I can stop blaming Legolas. He could not know what you mean to me, what we are together. Yet I do need forgiveness after all, from him, for my vehement attacks on his character. My misplaced disgust set up the conditions of his life here. You are the one I should have scorned and defamed! It is time you acknowledge your betrayal of my trust and our bond. I want to hear you admit it: you were ready to throw away that which I treasure most in favour of a purely sexual entanglement."

"I have never denied the beguilement but I never meant to either hurt you or to leave you. That scene of enticement was removed from all reality that I knew and still I can't explain it. I know you felt it, too; you confirmed it then."

"Felt it but resisted, while you didn't even try to withstand the pull. Why? What made it so easy to forget me?" Elrohir found he had to turn away from his brother's eyes, for it was painful to observe the sorrowful bewilderment visible within them.

"If I knew I would eradicate it from my being!" exclaimed Elladan and grabbed his twin by the arm to bring him back around and force him to witness the truth of his words. "We have to face this, please. It's been ten years of separation though we've travelled and fought together side by side. No more, Elrohir, no more! I need to know you can forgive me. Even if it takes uncounted years I don't care as long as you give me hope that you will."

"It's still there, isn't it, like a poison in the blood?" asked Elrohir, but he already knew the answer, for the same frustrating fascination plagued him. "What horror is this and why must we be burdened with it?" He shuddered and permitted Elladan to draw him close and hold him.

"I don't know, Elrohir. Maybe if I go and talk to him we can dispel the temptation."

"Ai, muindor, at least be honest!" fumed Elrohir, shoving his brother away harshly. "If you go to him you will but seek to woo and win him. Can't you see this?"

"Then you go!" Elladan shouted and turned away, red-faced in shame and anger. He glared at the bizarre juxtaposition of the trinkets and junk strewn about the deadly knives and shook his head. "What manner of Elf is this Legolas? Are all the Wood Elves made this way? Valar! He is pregnant with our brother and still I feel the tingling, captivating awareness of his presence. I want him as much as I did then and it is not only me. He feels my need; he reciprocates it. I'm certain this is so." The elder twin's voice was fraught with frantic insistence and dire resentment.

"I know," Elrohir sighed, a hand upon Elladan's shoulder. "I suffer it, too, and thus I can't approach him either. I have been too close already and can hardly trust myself. My intentions in arriving first were anything but honourable. How I wish we'd never seen him!"

"Aye, but I think it was touch that has made this awful situation worse. It's as if his very blood is tainted and exposure to it has contaminated us. I still feel our bond but this overwhelming hunger will not be ignored. What are we to do? I love you but I would have him." He opened his hand and stared at his bloody palm in dismay.

"He belongs to Adar now. Somehow we must come to terms with it. I've spoken to Mithrandir but he has no idea of how to clear the curse. We could ask Miny'ammë perhaps. She was acquainted with Melian." Elrohir transferred the shard to Elladan's opposite hand and pulled out his handkerchief to carefully wipe away the ruddy smear.

"Elbereth! I don't want to discuss this with my grandmother, Elrohir. It was hard enough to admit it to you. How shall I explain that my younger brother and I, long ago bonded one to another in the manner of mates, desire my father's sylvan lover who is now nurturing the nascent being of our baby brother? It is too horrible!" Elladan screwed his eyes shut, imagining the disapproving repugnance which would suffuse the clear gaze of Lady Galadriel should he apprise her of their predicament.

"What is the meaning of this?" the accusing voice boomed out before Elrohir could answer his twin and both wheeled about to find Elrond glaring in fury from the doorway. There could be no doubt he had heard this last statement at least. He blazed into the room and shoved them back, snatching the pottery chip from his eldest's fingers. "Answer me! What do you mean, coming in here and rifling through his things?" He slammed shut the drawer, causing the contents to rattle and shift noisily, and closed the cupboard door with a loud snap.

"We weren't really prying, Adar," Elladan began. "We were curious about the tainted clothes."

"You lie!" Elrond raised his voice and his hand, pointing an accusing forefinger at his first-born.

"If you must know, then, we wondered why there is so little evidence of your sylvan sylph in these rooms. Nothing has changed that we could note and so we began a closer examination." Elrohir knew it was pointless to attempt to deceive their father, for he could always spot a falsehood the second the breath of the lungs gave it life.

Elrond looked startled at this and sent a piercingly speculative glance about the bed chamber, scowling as he returned his sight to his sons. "What difference can it make to either of you, what Legolas does or does not keep here?" he demanded, though his voice had lost its voluminous wrath and projected instead a hint of anxiety. "He isn't used to possessions; he has lived, continues to live, a very simple life."

"There isn't anything simple about this situation," scoffed Elladan and pushed past his father and brother to return to the more neutral territory of the study. He paced before the empty hearth a few times as he waited for them to follow him out.

"None know this more than I," averred Elrond. "Why have you come? This could not be worse if someone had planned my ruination. You know how your presence disturbs him and on top of the dreadful attack he has suffered through I don't know if he will ever return to me," Elrond's words began with impatient irritation but ended on a note of pure despair just short of a sob. "I can't lose him, not now! I've put him at terrible risk. If anything is amiss I'll never forgive myself." He cast himself into an armchair and clutched at his temples, the long ebony tresses spilling forward to shield his anguished features.

His sons shared a look that expressed a silent evaluation of these statements and mutual surprise at their summation.

"You know? I was certain from his talk that you were completely unaware of the pregnancy," Elrohir announced.

"Of course I know; the question is how you two came to the knowledge," Elrond glared from one to the other, no less astonished, and stood. "You have spoken to him? Is that why he has disappeared? I've been searching since the dawn and can find him no where in the valley. Tell me at once, have you driven him away? How could you do that to someone in such poor condition?" He was raging at them again, fists clenched and ready.

"Peace! We have done nothing of the sort nor have we said a word to him," insisted Elladan, finally noticing his father's appearance: hair wind-blown and tangled, clothing bedraggled and besmudged with dust and dirt, tunic torn at the sleeve and leggings spotted with briars and burrs as if he'd spent a month wandering through rough and wild terrain instead of but a day. "Elrohir was eavesdropping when Legolas consulted with Aragorn."

"Aragorn?" Elrond was too worried to work out all these connections and shook his head, saddened beyond words to understand how great was the chasm between him and the Wood Elf.

Before anything more could be said, a knock came at the door followed by the entrance of Mithrandir and Lindir. The minstrel sent the twins his most admonishing stare, for he saw them as the source for all the unpleasant rumours regarding spells and enchantment, and went at once to serve out a glass of miruvor, which he carried to Elrond, while the wizard settled into a chair with an unhappy grunt.

"I convinced him to see Estel," said Gandalf, having caught the Man's name and guessed the reason it was voiced. "I came upon the elfling in the garden this morning and he refused to go in and face you yet it was plain enough he needed help. I could think of no other solution, for he has absolutely no confidence in your staff of physicians. It is a sad commentary on his life here that he placed his trust in complete strangers over those he has dwelt among for so many years."

"Aye, too late do I realise how far things have gone. You did right to take him to Estel and my mind is relieved, for he would never let a patient beyond his care if there was any immediate danger. I'm grateful to you, mellon." With a sigh the Lord of Imladris swallowed down the drink and set aside the glass, permitting his partner in the search to guide him back to his seat. "What news, Lindir?"

"None that will please you. He is determined to remain hidden; we've no choice but to wait for the bond to draw him back," answered the singer morosely.

"Nay, he mustn't be alone," Elrond groaned, once more dropping his head upon his hands.

"Why? You just said you trust to Aragorn's diagnosis," said Lindir.

"There is a more serious condition to worry over now, for grief will overtake him if I can't make him see that everything will be all right," mourned Elrond.

"He's with child, Lindir," stated Elrohir bluntly. "We're to have a brother in due time."

"What?" The singer's eyes shot wide at this and he looked from the wizard to the elven Lord for confirmation.

"So it's true," Mithrandir nodded. "I had my suspicions but felt it wiser to leave the matter for Aragorn's discretion and treatment." Of course, he'd known Elrohir was following and had seen him steal up to peer into the Man's room. He'd done nothing to prevent this, feeling Elrond needed to be informed of the illness but desiring to keep his word to the elfling. The wizard had harboured no doubt that the younger twin would confront his father over Legolas' health at the first opportunity.

"How does everyone know this?" Elrond inquired with some agitation. "Is nothing in my life private anymore?"

"Not something this important," huffed Gandalf, "or so obvious. It won't be long before everyone learns of it, for he is so slight he will surely grow round in a most suspicious manner."

"Aye, what awful mockery will be made of us then," groaned Elladan, shaking his head. "An illegitimate child begat upon a male sylvan youth. If it weren't happening to my family, I would laugh. Adar, how could you bring us so low?"

"It wasn't planned, Elladan, at least not by me. Do you seriously believe I would subject an innocent child to such harsh judgement?" insisted Elrond.

"Of course not," agreed Elrohir, "the choice was the sylvan's entirely and the reason is obvious. He hopes to make a respectable place for himself by using the pregnancy to force you to marriage."

"You're wrong!" argued Lindir, eager to defend his young friend. "That is not his plan at all and I can tell you he has been in a terrible moral dilemma over this for some time. How can you so easily dismiss the possibility that Legolas loves Elrond? Your own guilty thoughts have made you blind to his nature." Legolas' words to him in the glade made sense now. "If he meant to manipulate Elrond's conscience, why has he kept silent?" He turned on Elrond next. "You sit there feeling sorry for yourself and speaking of this child as of a disgrace. I will say it again, Elrond, you do not deserve the kind of love Legolas has for you."

"I don't think love is an issue here," snarled Elladan. "We are all agreed it's just some raw animal instinct at best and a deliberate ploy to enthral a powerful mate at worst. Disgrace will be the result in either case."

"There will be no ignominy assigned to this elfling's birth," spoke a quiet and resolute voice at their backs. "I would never subject my child to the sort of disdainful hatred I have endured here."

It was Legolas, who had regained the bed chamber the same way he'd left it, over the balcony rails, and stood now observing their argument with sorrowful eyes but a most determined set to his sensual mouth. He was still wearing the borrowed clothing Aragorn had lent him, the pants cinched tight with a bit of rope and the legs rolled up around his ankles. The long sleeves of the tunic were likewise folded back and the top hung open, revealing the mottled pink and red areas under the arms, around the neckline, and at each wrist where the painful open scrapes and scratches had at last healed over. His hair was damp and tangled as if he'd been caught in a storm though no rain had fallen.

"Legolas!" Elrond sprang from his chair and bounded across the room, intending to scoop his lover up in a tight embrace, only to be met with rigid arms held out to block him as the sylvan took a backward step.

"No. I am just here to collect my belongings. Hinder me not," he stated firmly as he retreated.

"You mustn't leave me!" Elrond insisted, somehow sounding both commanding and beseeching, and followed him into the room. He shut the bedroom door as he went.

"That is my cue to retire," announced Gandalf, heaving himself up with a creaking spine and protesting knees. "I suggest we leave them to it."

It seemed at first that the twins would defy him, for their sullen countenances presented a mulish reluctance to quit the rooms, but with the addition of Lindir's equally menacing glower the brothers relented. The minstrel ushered them into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind him. From below, the merry sounds of music and dancing continued to dilute the tense atmosphere of the Last Homely House.

"I'm in no mood for frivolity and jesting," complained Elladan.

"Nor I," mimicked his twin.

"Well, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to brood over this new development," cautioned Gandalf, "but as you seem determined to do it you might as well come along and continue your grousing in the relative privacy of my apartment."

"We've ample reason for our displeasure, wizard, and you can't deny that," Elrohir defended his staunch disapproval over the affair as the group made their way down the corridor and descended a rear stairwell, so to avoid observation by the revellers in the Hall of Fire.

"Legolas has far more reason to be angry than either of you," Lindir stated. "He's lost everything and is entirely alone here. All he has is Elrond, and we see what troubles his foolish young heart has procured. I don't know how he'll survive this, for without a fully committed mate I foresee a grisly and tragic end to this tale."

Back in the bedroom, Elrond was having nearly the same thoughts and the terror this inspired made his pulse race and his mind whirl. He watched in mute disbelief as Legolas retrieved his pack from the bottom of the clothes press and began loading in the essentials required for a journey beyond the borders of Imladris.

"I must know; did Aragorn tell you?" Legolas demanded, not ready to condemn the Man just yet but struggling to keep his faith intact.

"Nay, I had no idea Aragorn was aware of it, or that anyone else was. I wasn't even certain you understood…" Elrond's voice trailed into silence at the contemptuous expression that filled those cold blue eyes.

"I am glad he kept his word," was the sylvan's only remark to this, however, and he resumed his sorting and packing. "How did you find out?"

"While you were unconscious I examined you, for your sudden reaction to the cinnamon reminded me of a similar case long ago. The elleth afflicted was pregnant at the time and, given your physical structure, I decided it might not be impossible."

Legolas gave a short laugh at that but his countenance revealed anything but amusement. He was incensed that everyone knew his secret, already debasing his elfling and twisting his motives for desiring a child. Especially the twins. He slammed shut the treasure drawer and pulled another loose, taking out a pair of leggings and the leather tunic. He shrugged out of the over-sized shirt, intending to don his own clothes, but Elrond leaned forward and took them from his hands.

"Please stop and speak to me. Please, I know you're hurt and angry; I wish only to do what is right, what is best," the Noldorin Lord pleaded quietly. He saw a shuddery sigh pass from the Wood Elf as Legolas crossed his arms before him and delivered a fleeting glance accompanied by a brief shake of his head.

"I have to leave, Elrond. I can't protect my babe here; it isn't safe. It would be less dangerous to wander the wilds of Rhovanian alone than to remain in Imladris," he whispered, fighting the urge to abandon his plan and run to Elrond's arms. All day he'd stayed away, determined to prove he could resist the longing and survive on his own, returning under the excuse of needing to prepare for the lengthy journey. In reality, he wanted nothing more than to feel the comforting strength of Elrond's body against his, to hear the steady beat of the Noldorin Lord's heart, to be kissed and caressed and made love to, with genuine passion rather than mere lust.

"I will protect you both; this I swear. He's my babe, too, Aearen. Don't take him away. I couldn't bear it; to lose you both would finish me." Elrond meant every word but the incredulous look the sylvan flashed at him divulged how hollow such a pledge must sound in light of the history between them thus far. He took a step closer and tentatively raised his hand toward Legolas. "Don't you know that I love you?" The effect this produced was not what he'd hoped and shocked him, for Legolas rounded on him in absolute rage.

"Liar!" he accused. "Noldorin folk toss about the meanings of words as if they were mere whims, vagaries of mood and moment! You say one thing and tie to it the sense belonging to another term altogether, then alter it again the next instant as easily as exchanging one robe for another. No matter what you may say, if the words are called back to you an excuse can be made of misunderstanding, or worse. How often have I been made to stomach that condescending tone of superior knowledge and insight from you and your many friends? I will listen to no more of it!"

"Aye, I don't deny it; I am guilty of that attitude. I can only beg forgiveness, but this…"

"Nor are your promises of value, so swear no oathes to me." Elrond's apology was interrupted by the sylvan's strident recriminations, which had merely paused in order for breath to be drawn. "Just last night you promised not to leave me and yet I awoke to find you gone. How can I depend upon you to protect my child when you care not to keep watch by my side?"

"But I was there nearly the whole time, Legolas! You can ask Lindir to corroborate my words if you don't believe me."

"Lies! Lies!" Legolas cried, the angry outburst only serving to more fully reveal the underlying injury burdening his heart. "You see? It is as I said; you simply redefine the meaning of your promise so to escape fault. You promised to stay, not to stay most of the time."

"Nay, that is too harsh. You must see that I had to try and find a cure and I needed to ensure the culprits were captured and punished. It was love for you that motivated me. I have lied to you many times, thinking it for the best and imagining that by pretending things were fine you would accept it. My love for you is not a lie."

The young sylvan considered this explanation and could not refute the logic of it, yet though his rage subsided somewhat the loss of its pressing strain only permitted the deep pool of anguished grief to well up until his eyes were fairly drowning in it. He exhaled a sharp, shuddery gust of air and straightened his back as one who sees his end yet wills himself to face a truly daunting foe.

"What can it mean to say that you love me?" Legolas countered, voice low and humming with that mixture of wrath and sorrow that was the worst combination of emotions, for the one defied hope and the other obscured it. "How could you love someone who is a 'habitual embarrassment' to you? How can you claim any real feeling for someone you deem an 'ignorant and stubborn child'?"

"Nay, that's not fair. Those words were spoken in anger and not to be taken so tacitly. Surely you can see that only a heart tried beyond the limits of reason could dare to utter such recriminations?"

"I have not said such like to you, though my own trial hasn't been lesser," the archer said sadly and shook his head. "It is easy for me to see this clearly and harder for you to understand, for the factors responsible for our bond are foreign and strange to you.

"We sylvans have no love of Námo and even greater dread of wandering unhoused, open to predation by the Dark Lord's wraiths. A soul in peril of being dimmed ignites a fiery passion within the failing hroa, a call that is undeniable, a yearning that will bring the light of another's faer to share. All you feel is the ebb and flow of that compulsion, a physical draw that, because its result is pleasurable, you have come to confuse it with stronger emotions that spring from the heart."

"I am not ignorant of this unusual sylvan trait, for I observed it in action at Dagorlad centuries ago. Still I contest your conclusion. Would I have sent away my own sons from their home, dreaded the return of my daughter, endured the scorn of my peers and the loss of my peoples' respect if not for love?"

"Yes. That is the nature of this bond. You are compelled to protect your claim upon me. Your sons are your rivals, your daughter a painful reminder of the family you held so dear and the wife lost to you. As for the rest, you have not endured so much as joined in the sport. The people follow your lead; if they scorn and revile me it is because you do so."

They stared in silence upon one another for a time, each aching in the terrible grip of this union that was at once a curse and a blessing, and it seemed that Elrond was on the verge of relenting and accepting this explanation for all the fomented convolutions his senses had undergone since encountering Legolas. Yet he was much older and much wiser and certainly knew his own mind and spirit well enough, and this awareness broke through with a strong pulse of illumination that drove out the dreary convictions of a mind racked with guilt and grief. He shook his head and let the barriers thrown up by position and place fall away. What he felt for this Elf was true and abiding, a tie that would only grow more binding as the years passed, and Elrond found that this was not a truth made for sorrow but a cause for rejoicing.

"No. Some of what you say I can't deny, but while I might acknowledge this compulsion I also see there is more to motivate my actions than involuntary carnal attraction. I don't wonder that you have decided against the possibility that I could love you; I've given little indication that such a thing could be plausible. I am proud and in my arrogance I have lied to myself; like a child believed the fantasies woven around my name and the legend attached to my family and our deeds. I liked to feel superior and justify my claim to respect and admiration, to power and esteem, to wealth and happiness.

"It's all a farce, for after all I am just an Elf, Legolas, nothing more and nothing less, as are you, but I have been so consumed with being Lord Elrond of Imladris that I'd forgotten how to simply be. I say that I do love you and have the proof of it. Peace!" the Lord of Imladris held up his hand, a stern look upon his features, and halted whatever rebuttal the Wood Elf hoped to make. "It is not your beauty I love nor the delights of your body when you share it with mine, although these are not qualities I am ashamed to admit please me.

"It is you, Aearen, you just as you are: genuine and pure. Your heart and soul possess a natural integrity that throws a brilliant light upon the petty and selfish motives others seek to veil through elaborate posturing and protocol. Under the glare of this luminous spirit of yours, everyone else is revealed as false, all playing parts designed to keep the masquerade going. Our disguises are transparent as water beside you and it is hard to have to see oneself so naked when the truth revealed is less than flattering."

"That does not sound like someone you would love, yet perhaps you have at last explained why I am so despised," said Legolas.

"Aye, many react that way to such exposure, I am guilty, too. You showed me what I had become and I didn't like it. I lashed out, pushed you back, hurt you." The mighty Lord faltered then and rubbed at his eyes, for these were hard words to say aloud when he really wanted to just catch up his Wood Elf, hold him close, uncover his body and cover it again with his own, driving out the pain in those eyes with the glorious ecstasy their union never failed to produce.

"But why?" Legolas shook his head to hide the flinch those words worked upon his bones. "The very essence of what I am somehow offends everyone in Imladris, but it never occurred to you that it might be just as hard for me to find admirable qualities among the Noldor. Why can't you love me as I love you?"

"I do love you!" Elrond sprang forward, falling to his knees before the Wood Elf, for how could he not respond to such a declaration, wrapped as it was in despairing confusion? He gripped the rigid arms held so tightly pressed together and tried to meet his lover's eyes, but Legolas had his squeezed shut.

"Despite my denial and resistance, you have brought me joy, for you respond not to the external façade I so vigourously maintain but to those fundamental attributes only you can see. Somehow, you blew right through the false front and found me, and I know not why but you decided my character is worthy of your love. I don't have to hide from you, Legolas. You have returned me to myself." Elrond smiled as the sylvan's eyes opened, hoping his words made sense, for he found it hard to properly convey the magnitude of such a gift. His lips turned down almost at once, however, for Legolas did not seem impressed and instead bore the chilling look he often wore when he caught Elrond being false. The Lore-master's heart lurched, for this avowal was anything but deceitful.

"I don't understand you at all," the archer rejoined, still defiant, determined not to let himself fall prey to the whims of his desires despite the intoxicating proximity of his beloved. He kept his arms folded protectively across the sore heart beneath the lean bare chest. "If you were pleased by this you hid it well. In fact, whenever I suggest some activity that might disturb this 'façade' of yours, you hesitate and make excuses. Unless it involves sex."

Elrond could hardly deny the charge and had no wish to, for he could see that Legolas had stated this in all seriousness and expected some reply. He sighed and sat back upon his heels, letting his forehead come to rest against the warm smooth skin of the Wood Elf's navel. What answer could he give? It was true that the physical allure of his sylvan lover was hopelessly entangled with the more noble sensations that uplifted his heart and spirit whenever they were together. Elrond had difficulty sharing these feelings in any other than a physical way, for it was when his heart was most deeply moved that he longed most to join with his mate, and likewise when they were striving to reach that peak of ecstasy that his soul rejoiced nearly to bursting with love.

Now had he simply stated this, Legolas would have understood at once, yet Elrond still languished under the lifelong habits of prejudice, subconsciously thinking the sylvan would fail to grasp his meaning. Thus his efforts to explain took them into deeper waters.

"You can't fault me for delighting in the pleasures we share, but it isn't only that. You have made everything new for me in a thousand ways. I find myself smiling just from observing you. I share your exultation over every sunrise. Your efforts to number the stars, picking out favourites and following their courses, all with wonder and delight, has made me recall when I once did the same. It gave me a shock to realise I hardly ever bother to notice the gifts of Varda anymore and take no pleasure in them when I do.

"I watched you frolicking with those ducklings in the pond and had to laugh when they all paddled round behind you in a line. I listened to your excited description of flowers and plants you never knew existed, smiled at your catalogue of pressed leaves and blossoms under that rock in your drawer, chuckled over your determination to collect a feather from every type of bird dwelling in the valley." Elrond lifted his face to judge his lover's response to this and with a sharp pang of dismay saw Legolas' jaw tighten and his spine stiffen. The Lore-master shook his head, straightening from knee to hip, and increased the pressure of his hold. "Wait!" he urged, but was not heeded this time.

"You describe the antics of a child and so you view me still, for so you judge my entire race to be infantile compared to yours," the Wood Elf retorted.

"Aye, your indictment is partially correct." Elrond's instincts warned him not to try dissembling in the face of this harsh assessment and he wisely obeyed. Legolas had shown in the past that real remorse was rewarded with remission. A blunt statement, no matter how difficult its meaning might be to bear, was preferred over showy words used for distraction. "It was at times the wrong kind of amusement, for I indulged it at your expense rather than permitting myself to accept the gifts you so often hoped to give. Your personality is child-like: open, trusting, ever seeking, but that does not mean I consider you a child. There are Ages between us, however, and I can't forget those years."

"Nor will you let me! I can never be your equal, then, but I won't abide your infernal, paternalistic humouring any longer."

"What would you have me do?" demanded an exasperated Elven Lord. "I can't advance your years or diminish mine. There are bound to be numerous instances where my experience will supply more thorough knowledge and wisdom than you can produce. Shall I withhold it, then, in deference to your sensitivity to being young, a fact hidden from none?"

"I would have your respect if nothing else. I am not a beggar here; I do my part on patrol yet even this you scorn. The trophies I have brought as proof of my fealty and devotion to your lands lie hidden in a drawer. In my country, I was an honoured warrior. Under the eaves, no one cares about age or titles or possessions; it is how well one wields a bow that matters."

Now through all of this heated dialogue Legolas had made no move to push Elrond away. The noble Lord took this as a good omen and pressed his case the harder, gazing earnestly into blue eyes glistening in both pain and anger, daring to wind one arm about the sylvan's slender waist as he spoke, for he was sure he discerned the glint of desire in the cobalt depths. Legolas loved him still and yearned for an end to this odious quarrel as much as he.

"I do respect you, but for more than your remarkable ability in warfare. Your trust in sharing what is new to you, what grants your heart joy, the way you set aside your own woes and seek what is good and beautiful in your new home, this I didn't appreciate at first; that is true. Yet, it took courage and determination and hope to pour so much effort into making this union work. In the face of what you suffered, I cannot respect you more. Few elves could surmount such obstacles or persist under such averse conditions. You never gave up hope before; don't lose faith in me now."

Elrond lowered his head to press a tender kiss upon the bare belly and felt the quick spasm that ran through the taut muscles beneath his lips. He inhaled the tantalising scent of Legolas and laid his cheek against the smooth and supple skin, locking both arms behind the sylvan's back. His heart leaped as he heard a long drawn sigh and felt the shield of arms unfolding, delighting when one hand came to rest atop his head and the other upon his shoulder. Fingers, long and elegant and lethal, played among the strands of hair upon his crown. A shiver ran through the Elven Lord and a smile lit up every centimetre of his soul. He could feel Legolas relenting, unable to deny the love which had supplied him such distress, though the tension had not left the Wood Elf and there was much injury left to repair.

"I don't know what to say." Legolas drew another disconsolate breath, chastising himself for permitting this physical contact, for it was swiftly draining away his cold rage, supplanting it with the kindling warmth of longing. He resolved to say the worst and be done with it, for if this last and greatest fear remained he would never be able to stay when that was exactly what he needed most to do, for himself and the child. "I've done a foolish thing yet I can't regret it. I do love you but how can I trust your words? I think if not for the babe you wouldn't care about any of this."

"Not true." Elrond sat back again to meet this indictment eye to eye, for it was the one notion Legolas had revealed that was entirely false. "It isn't the child that has opened my eyes but the poisoning. I understand now what I've done. It may as well have been my hand that saturated your clothes with cinnamon. I dared to imagine that you were the fortunate one to find yourself with me. I let my inconsiderate and pompous attitude disseminate unchecked through my household. I am the one behaving like a fool, an arrogant, selfish fool but you have paid the price. I don't know how to earn your forgiveness but I will; I must. Please, Legolas, let me try. Do not part from me."

At this Legolas uttered a strange sound, half a cry of frustration and half a groan of intense desire, and covered his ears with his hands as he tore away from his lover's embrace and fled to the balcony. He wanted to believe this solemn testimony but resited, reminding himself of the numerous examples he'd been given to counter them. There was little in the balance to sway the scales to Elrond's side, but his own love and the persistent throb of the new life within him refused to ignore them. He stood there for a moment or two, vacillating between escaping back into the trees and remaining with Elrond. At last it was too much. He could not fight such a trio of overwhelming impulses: his heart's desire, the insistent soul-bond, and the needs of his unborn babe. Legolas collapsed into a chair, a muffled wail erupting as he wrapped his arms around his head and folded up into a tight, miserable ball.

"Why must I love you this much? I never asked for such a thing to happen and I can't see what I've done to…" and there his words choked off abruptly, for he didn't want to think about that, knowing only too well what horrible errors lay at the root of this suffering. That his sins would now be foisted onto the unborn innocent he carried made his soul cringe in dread. "I have to go from you for surely grief such as this will steal my life and our babe's."

"No, you don't. I can make it right; truly it is not so bad as it must seem," Elrond had hurried over the minute Legolas dropped to the chair and now knelt by the Wood Elf's side, a hand gently soothing over the bowed back.

"I must. I promised the Valar."

"What?"

"For my brother. I promised that if the Powers let me keep the babe, I would sail for Aman and let the child be born there. Nothing can harm him there; he'll be safe and loved."

"Legolas, how is your brother connected to this decision?" Elrond unwrapped his young lover, concerned over the stresses straining the lithe body, and gently lifted Legolas' face, forcing the tear-filled eyes to meet his. He made this query with no small trepidation, for he was unhappily convinced he knew what the answer would be.

"If not for me my brother would never have died. This babe will be the vessel for his faer; Galbreth will have life anew. I should have told you last night, then you wouldn't have drugged me, but I was terrified and the burning was unrelenting and Lindir was there and I just couldn't. I woke in such awful pain and bargained with Elbereth for my little one. I promised to sail if his life would be spared." The truth tumbled out in a rush of broken sobs and Legolas' form contracted even tighter, if such were possible.

Elrond exhaled a deep sigh and sadly pulled the sylvan archer into a close hug, rocking him carefully, stroking the damp, tangled tresses. During the delirium of the early days following Legolas' arrival, Elrond had listened to numerous conversations between Legolas and Námo concerning this deceased brother, usually pleading mercy and forgiveness, promising his own life if Galbreth would only be returned to the forests of Greenwood again. He lost count of the number of times the Wood Elf had tried to make good his promise and end his existence in the healing rooms with whatever means he could find to hand. Only the severity of his injuries had made him too weak to achieve this goal. That and the fact that he was kept bound and drugged after a nearly successful attempt to slit his wrists with the broken fragments of a smashed water pitcher. Yet once the fever had abated, Legolas never mentioned his brother or alluded to the attack that had ended in such tremendous loss and grief.

"Legolas, I understand this, yet I don't believe such a promise can only be kept by sailing for Eldamar," Elrond began carefully, murmuring his words into an attentive ear. He had no wish to insult his lover's beliefs and so drive him further away, and truly it mattered little if there was any credence to such notions as long as Legolas held to them wholly. The result would be the same and that he would not allow. He would not give up this unexpected love and its amazingly fruitful bounty.

"Nor is your vow binding," he continued, "for didn't Aragorn assure you the babe was never in danger from the sleeping draught? How can you owe anything when no service was rendered? We must let this new life come into being here and would that not be better? Then our child shall have both his parents and thus secure his strength and vigour, while Galbreth's spirit would not be so removed from his homeland, for Imladris would become in part his homeland, too."

"I won't permit him to be scorned and mocked. I have borne it for love of you, Nín'ódhel, and because I hadn't any right to expect happiness any longer, but I will not tolerate anyone making my son feel ashamed of who he is." The scarcely audible words were draped over a scaffold of steel and there was no doubting the sylvan warrior would back such a declaration with action.

Elrond smiled to hear it, for he perceived within the terms Legolas' desire to be convinced and persuaded, but it was also a sad smile for at last he saw things as they truly had been for Legolas.

"I didn't intend for you to suffer for love of me," he said. "Nor do I believe your brother would want that, or even the Valar, capricious and indifferent though their moods may be. Yet I cannot help but rejoice to hear you mention love. Lindir is right, little do I deserve it, but I am not foolish enough to let such a gift go once it is given. I can't change the past or undo the harm my selfish arrogance has caused you, and again I plead forgiveness though it is not justified. I am still selfish; I will not live without you.

"What comes next, that is in your power to mould. I would make this right and return to you a thousand fold the love and dedication you have shown. You will be mine, Legolas, and our child will grow up happy and healthy under our guidance. What say you? Will you consent to the Noldorin custom and wed this ancient Elf with which Vairë has afflicted you? You have given yourself entirely and entrusted your well-being to me: heart, mind, soul, and body. You have given me now the greatest token of that pledge in the life of our child. I would grant you the honour such tributes demand. Stand with me before Eru and wear my ring for all time."

There was an intense silence that followed these words as the two remained locked together, Elrond refusing to let go for fear his sylvan lover would slip away forever and Legolas frozen in disbelief over the proposal just spoken. He drew a shaky breath and stirred, turning his face to Elrond's, daring to peer into the molten grey eyes, hunting for truth and afraid of what that might be, but hopeful nonetheless.

"Did you just ask me to become your mate?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"Is this because I'm carrying your child?"

"Partly, and he's OUR child. Mostly it's because I can't fight it anymore. I tried very hard not to love you but it's quite impossible. Our souls are all mixed up together and now my heart is thoroughly entangled with yours, too. I have no idea where one ends and the other begins, nor any desire to learn such a thing."

Another short period of wordless anxiety passed between them as Legolas struggled to make sure his answer, already determined years ago, was to be given for the right reasons.

"The people will say I have entrapped you with magic and made this babe to secure an exalted station for myself."

"I don't care what people think. Well, that's not true, but I suddenly find myself highly irritated that anyone could fail to comprehend your merit and worth. At the same time, I know it's entirely my fault and as such I can change this. If anyone dares to bring it up I will gladly tell them I am indeed enchanted and would wish the same good fortune to befall each and every one of them. Praise Eru for making the Wood Elves so unique, for I am so stubborn and proud I would never have met you otherwise. I could almost bless those Orcs for making sure you would need a saviour."
Legolas smiled a little then, but was not quite finished. "What about Elladan and Elrohir?"

"What about them? They have each other, though they are temporarily at odds. As for the rest, they will just have to figure out how to make their own child; I can't help them in that department. Mayhap there is a sylvan spell you could recommend?"

Legolas snorted out a giggle at that but it was a high, nervous sort of sound. The situation was not one that would right itself yet Elrond didn't seem inclined to delve into its perplexities at the moment. Legolas couldn't truly say he wished to, either, finding one soul-wrenching confrontation sufficiently draining. He pressed his forehead against Elrond's and worked an arm round his shoulders.

"So be it, though none in my line have ever mixed blood with kinslayers before now. I hope my people may forgive me."

"Ai! My folk are not counted among those followers of Feänaro. I am only one-eighth Noldorin at best. But did you consent, Legolas? Tell me your answer again and leave out those unpleasant references to my dubious heritage." Elrond was grinning hugely despite his shock to hear these disparaging objections raised.

"I did consent. I will wear your ring, Elrond, and I will bear your child. I will be your mate for all time," Legolas was smiling in dreamy delight, bathed in the turbulent effluence of unreserved love pouring from his beloved's clear eyes. Yes, there was the very evidence that had convinced him Elrond's heart was his alone, and for the intensity in that one look he had given himself over long ago.
He did not resist when the Lore-master's lips sought his and opened joyfully to the possessive exploration of the questing tongue. He hummed out a little moan of relief as every nerve and sinew eased into this more stimulating sort of contest. He didn't press very hard for dominance, however, for Elrond knew too well exactly what pleased him. He did manage to close his teeth down upon the wet protrusion just enough to provoke a shuddery groan and an impulsive shift in position that somehow brought him out of the chair and Elrond into it. Legolas realised he was now straddling his lover's lap and felt the healer's fingers busy at work upon the knotted cord that bound the borrowed pants. Elrond withdrew his tongue to briefly put it to use for speech.

"The wounds from your mad scratching and chafing seem to be healed, but I'd best conduct a thorough inspection to make sure." The rope came away then and one hand dived beneath the gaping wasitband to find Legolas' penis hard and at full attention. Elrond grasped it and then stroked down from tip to base, thumbing across the slick glans firmly as he dipped his head to lick and nip at the archer's neck, careful to avoid the new pink skin ringing the throat. Legolas gave a strong jerk, not the eager thrust of libido driven hips but a retreat from the encompassing friction, and he stopped, meeting the sylvan's gaze with concern. "You are still a bit tender," he said.

"Nay, nay, it's all right. Don't stop."

"No, better let me have a look," insisted Elrond and lifted Legolas up from his lap.

As soon as the Wood Elf was upright the over-large trousers slipped down and clumped in a heap atop his feet. He could barely restrain his delight as his lover's hungry eyes seemed to scrutinise every atom of his aroused genitals. "Look all you like," breathed Legolas eagerly.

"You seem to be healing up well, but I'll do nothing that hinders the process," Elrond intoned clinically, eyes glinting with devilish glee to see the Wood Elf's expression shift sharply from wanton expectation to dismayed frustration. "I think it would be wise to bathe the afflicted regions with a warm, viscous, mineral-rich fluid rather than increase the irritation excessive handling would surely induce."

Legolas had but a matter of seconds to consider whether Elrond was proposing a soak at the Spa or a more romantic encounter in their private bathroom before the Elven Lord leaned forward and demonstrated the prescribed therapy. The noble legend's parted lips enveloped his penis; that epicurean tongue deliberately swabbing across the sensitive tip. He held tight to the hands securing him at the waist and watched, spellbound by the sight of his erection slowly disappearing into the hidden chamber where the repeated application of the massaging muscle raised his desire and vanquished all thought of troubles or cares.

"Ai, Nín'ódhel, the things you do to me!" he whispered, transferring one hand to the crown of dark hair, entangling the fingers amid the black strands and pressing lightly. When Elrond grunted out an admonishing growl, Legolas shifted those clever digits to the point of a Noldorin ear and gave it a very sound tweaking. The noise his lover made then was purely a squeal of excited surprise and the vibrations sent a piercing jolt of equivalent passion coursing through his cock. Legolas shuddered and grabbed onto Elrond's shoulder for support, respiration accelerating and heart singing, desperately trying to be still and let things happen, such lovely things.

All at once the mouth pulled away but the cool night air had little chance to settle around the spit-slathered organ before Elrond pressed his face into the juncture of pelvis and thigh, nose nuzzling against the soft, damp curls collected at the root, lips and tongue nipping at the tight, smooth sac crouched beneath it. Hands that had staunchly held Legolas back pulled him closer, reached behind and beneath him, squeezing at his buttocks, tracing over the tightly sealed anal orifice and slipping just past the slippery rim of the second opening. Then a more regular stimulation began again as Elrond slowly worked his way back to the pinnacle, sampling the musky flesh as he went, and his fingers went to work inside the separate cavities, probing and stroking. All of this he did with slow and steady deliberation, occasionally adding a rumbling moan to the pleasing sound of the sylvan's deep and laboured efforts to maintain sufficient air.

For Legolas it was nothing less than bliss and he could not find energy to compare the experience with any other they'd shared, for every time they joined his heart found ease and freedom from the guilt and grief that plagued him nearly every minute, whether waking or in reverie. Yet his soul was aware of his senses building to a high state of exhilaration in the aftermath of the long days of escalating conflict and rejoiced. Here at last they would find completion without the shadowed doubts that had ever inhibited them for a decade. This time, he would not only perceive the great love hoarded in the Noldorin Lord's heart; this time, Elrond would give it to him.

Unable to reach anything else, Legolas' fingertips delicately travelled the elegant curves and whorls of his mate's ears, rubbing harder here, tugging at the small, firm lobes, pressing a quick pinch atop the points, over and over. He closed his eyes and smiled, luxuriating in the erotic sounds Elrond made in reply to this attention, relishing the sensation of the thick black drape of hair drifting lazily against his naked legs as the noble head rose and fell, trembling under the feverish blasts of pleasure shocking his body whenever prostate, penis, and balls were simultaneously tickled in exactly the right way. He wanted it to go on forever and Elrond's skilful manipulation kept his nerves afire, the mounting seminal pressure always just on the brink of boiling up, until he lost all ability to command function. He could but hang on, hands fisted now in the ebony locks, mouth agape and eyes glazed as passion finally overtook him and sent him soaring.

Legolas didn't realised he called out Elrond's name at the moment of release, but the Lore-master surely did and he exulted, clutching his Wood Elf close as he let the relaxing penis slide from his lips. The limp and quivery body was draped haphazardly against him, arms lazily encircling his neck as the archer's cheek rested on the crown of his head, legs splayed out awkwardly and trembling faintly. The only thing holding Legolas up was the firm grip of Elrond's arms, one across the back of his thighs just beneath the supple curve of that enticing behind, the other wrapped tight against the small of his back where trickles of sweat seeped between the join. Elrond drew Legolas onto his lap and thus freed a hand to run through the thick, golden mane.

"Kiss me," he demanded and was instantly obeyed, Legolas' eyes alight with love as grinning lips snatching at Elrond's, biting the lower lip only to retreat and lap against the bruise, teasing the high grooved roof of the palate before devouring his tongue.
"I want you, Nín'ódhel; make me yours. Take me." He was a weightless mote floating free in the thrill of his climax and wasn't entirely conscious of this entreaty, murmured between frantic oral gropings from lips alternately fused and sundered as his need for oxygen directed.

"Ah, Aearen." Elrond's reply was little more than a feral purr.

He'd had been waiting for just that request, anticipating it with aching excitement but minimally checked, and his greedy hands palmed and petted and plucked at every accessible bit of flushed flesh reposed against him, all the while returning the fiery kisses with escalating control until finally he seized the tangled hair and so thoroughly ravaged the sylvan's mouth that he wrung a soft moan of surprise from the suddenly compliant Elf. The wet sound as they separated underscored their harsh panting, breathing in each other's breath, vision locked, parted lips spare inches apart. They formed matching smiles and abruptly Elrond stood, lifting his Wood Elf and then replacing him on the chair. He took a step back and bent to pull off one of his low ankle boots, tossing it carelessly aside.

"Ah!" Legolas' was pleased beyond words, for Elrond seldom stripped for him this way, and wriggled around until he found a comfortable position that managed to expose as much of his groin as possible. As soon as Elrond's hands moved to unfasten the closures of his tunic, Legolas' travelled south to stroke and fondle his quickening cock.

Slowly, slowly Elrond opened the outer garment, noting how Legolas' eyes moved to each successive clasp as he worked it loose, until finally he slipped the top from his shoulders and let it fall where it would. He had a long, wide embroidered sash binding his silk undershirt about the waist and this he unknotted and unwrapped with excruciating sloth. Once free, he flung it out toward Legolas, who caught it and pulled playfully, hoping to yank Elrond closer, but the Lore-master had expected that and let it go. Legolas draped it around his neck, hooked one knee up over the arm of his chair, and waited.

Elrond's nostrils flared at this blatant challenge. With a smugly lascivious grin he tugged the tail of the shirt free of his pants and then removed the fine sapphire studs clasping the cuffs at each wrist. These he pocketed as he stepped farther back and leaned against the balcony rail, his eyes raking over the moonlit skin of his lover's exposed body. Legolas glistened like opal under Ithil's subtle glow and the secret places beckoned in shadowy shades of dusky rouge, but the Elven Lord resisted.

A full minute passed, then another, and yet a third ticked by until the Wood Elf gave an impatient exclamation of intense distress and twitched in his seat. "Please, don't stop," he begged, all demure and contrite, the dare discarded and dismissed. "I need you, Nín'ódhel."

"Oh, you do?" The Noldorin Lord tossed his head, gloating over the victory, and stood straight. He raised his hand and motioned Legolas to him. "Come, Aearen; you finish undressing me." He chuckled approvingly at the speed with which his youthful lover reached him and began undoing the remaining ties and clasps, whisking the shirt over his head and managing to steal a quick kiss almost at the same time.

Then Legolas grew venturesome again and pressed each palm over a peaked brown nipple, languidly circling and smoothing over the tender points, lavishing loving attention over the exposed expanse of Elrond's broadly muscled chest, tasting and touching the places he knew to be most sensitive. Elrond permitted this, expressing his approval in a soft stream of rumbling moans, until he felt the sylvan's incisors sink into the skin of his shoulder with sufficient force to mark him.

The sting made him cry out in surprise and abruptly he took hold of the Wood Elf's shoulders and held him back at arms length, intending to scold his lover, but upon meeting the oddly apologetic triumph in those cobalt eyes Elrond found his anger dissolved away into a warm sense of security and belonging. Inexplicably, recognising the pride of ownership in Legolas' bold trespass raised Elrond's desire even higher. The concept blazed through his mind that perhaps there were unforeseen benefits to relinquishing the dominant position every now and then.

"You would claim me, Aearen?" he asked.

For answer, Legolas flushed from his toes to his scalp and swallowed down a hitched breath as his cock positively leaped in his hand. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of voracious longing, confused uncertainty, and outright fear as they tracked over the solid strength of the masculine form before him. He let his head tilt ever so slightly and his left shoulder shrug the barest increment, mouth too dry to attempt even a simple yes or no.

Elrond decided the correct interpretation of this elusive posturing, which his instinct believed to be 'yes', could be examined more fully another time. He threw back his head and shook all his hair behind him, dismantling what remained of his braids and knotted tendrils, relishing the obvious stimulus this posed to Legolas, who stood enraptured with lips parted and eyes wide.

"Shall I finish?" he asked teasingly, already undoing the ties of his leggings as Legolas offered a brief nod. Certain the sylvan's vision was locked on the widening gap in the fabric, Elrond shoved his hand down inside and worked his cock free, fisting it with a loud groan as he pumped, thrilling to the sharp gasp this provoked from his lover. His other hand casually tugged at the waistband to lower the pants and slowly expose what his hand was holding to the subdued light of the mild spring night. Legolas fulfilled his expectation, giving a hoarse cry as he dropped to his knees, taking hold of the cloth and drawing the pants down in one forceful jerk. As Elrond stepped out of them, he let the slippery tip of his rigid organ rub against Legolas' cheek and was rewarded with a flickery swipe of a hot red tongue.

The next instant the Wood Elf had the engorged head in his mouth and the heavy sac cupped in his hand, sucking and gently squeezing as Elrond held the long shaft forward, continuing to stroke himself. He uttered a startled groan when the sylvan pulled his hand off the erection and replaced it with his own, pumping more quickly and alternating the strong suction with faint touches of his teeth and tongue up and down the length. The august healer caught his breath at the sight of this vision of golden glory worshipping at his feet, supplicating his favour in the most erotic fashion. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he realised Legolas had gained the upper hand and was controlling the pace of their love-making again, yet it seemed a paltry sort of point to argue at the moment. He was more for action, anyway.

In a single fluid motion Elrond gripped Legolas under the arms and hoisted him up, pulling him off his cock with a grunt of exquisite pain as teeth nipped him right on its crowning slit, and pivoted about so that he had the sylvan trapped against the railing, bent forward so the long swath of gilded hair cascaded out into the open air. He gave the exposed rear a squeeze and a soft pat before slipping a finger between the cheeks and pushing against the taut constriction until it gave entry. He worked quickly, attuned to the rhythms of his lover's body, and in rapid succession added a second and third intrusion. Yet for all his haste he was not unmindful of the tender new skin surrounding this tight ingress and hesitated, thinking to retrieve a salve with which to protect the region.

By then Legolas was straining hard against the banister, pushing onto every thrust to encourage the ultimate melding of their bodies, and almost cursed as the preparation slowed nearly to a halt. As it was he groaned aloud and opened his eyes, which had been sealed, and discovered that his noise had alerted someone in the garden below. A couple lay entwined in the shadows on the lawn, engaged in the same activity as that on the balcony, and Legolas gasped as he met the equally startled stare of two sets of shining eyes.

"Elrond!" he whispered in frantic panic and turned his head to see whether his lover was aware, but the smouldering heat in the grey eyes of the Elven Lord froze him still and set him on fire all at once, for he was suddenly grasped at the hips and entered with a solid, steady thrust that sheathed the Noldorin penis in him to the hilt. He bucked as it retreated and filled him again and then he was lost to the powerful force of the bond between them and the love only just confessed but familiar and welcome and all-enveloping. He gave in to the demands of body and soul and was conscious of the intoxicating flood of energy Elrond seemed to pour over him with every fresh penetration. He smiled and called out softly in Nandorin as one of his mate's hands covered his on the railing and the other slipped beneath his belly to capture his cock in a clasp that was somehow protective as it worked the slender column with delicate precision.

Elrond claimed Legolas, taking more than the physical pleasure found in the searing heat of their union, seeking at last to possess all that was so freely given, striving to open his soul and offer in return the entirety of his being if it would heal the remaining wounds in his Wood Elf's grieving spirit. The vows were silent, the concussion of flesh upon flesh speaking the promises he had been unwilling to admit before, his thrusts more tender than since their first coupling, when Legolas had barely been conscious, but steady, relentless, and true. This, he knew now, was how it should have been then; this was what Legolas had needed.

He heard the sylvan make that peculiar trilling call, amazed to feel something like an echo of its vibrations arise from a deep and distant place in his psyche, and it was as if Elrond's heart burst, not in pain or anguish but with overwhelming joy. A barrier disintegrated, one raised so long ago he'd ceased to acknowledge its presence, and with its destruction a sudden influx of vitality enveloped him. Like the rising tide of Legolas' limitless love, that great ocean that washed through him and over him, this energy surged and billowed and swept them both up in its relentless gale. Yet if he had felt adrift before he could now perceive a course and a purpose.

"Ah, Aearen, how I love you," Elrond whispered against the florid point of his beloved's ear. He felt Legolas shudder, a wave of trembling that ran through every nerve in the lithe body. His answered, tremor for tremor, and together they reached a glorious moment of mutual surrender.

TBC

To DeLurker: Thank you! I appreciate each and every review. I can't promise they will make me write faster, but they definitely make my life brighter and give me cause to smile. I am very grateful!

Gwaedh Prestannen: Troubled Troth

Thyrin Trenor: Secrets Told

Galbreth: beech tree, from a dialect of Doriath

faer dithen: little soul

Muilengôl: Veiled magic-a Doriath-derived name for wizards.

Eglerio Elbereth! Eglerio Sulimo, Hîr od Valinor!: Praise Elbereth! Praise Sulimo (a name for Manwë) Lord of Valinor!

ithron sael: wise wizard

Saelben: wise one

Úgerth uin Ionnath: Sins of the Sons

Narwain: January

Nay, saes, avvedi: No, please, don't go.

Dîn Caradhras: Red Horn Pass

Carth Dalt: Slippery Deed

Saelben: Wise one

Alae!: Behold!

Pedethryn Dailt: Slippery Walkers - slugs and/or snails

Nîth Chall: Shadowed Youth

nârion: son of a rat

hecilo: outcast (Quenya)

Ened Ethuil: Mid-Spring

Aegas Mírdan: Mountain Peak the Jewel Smith, an Elf of Rivendell

Muindoradar: brother-father, Uncle

Minya'mmë: first mother, grandmother

Aearen: my ocean

Nín'ódhel: my Deep Elf

Thenin: True. (Yes.)

Man le presta, Aearen?: What troubles you, My Ocean?

Alnad, alnad, Nín'ódhel: Nothing, nothing, My Deep Elf.

Advae?: Better? (Well again?)

Pan vae: All right

Ringe: cold

NOTE: There now, Elrond is going to do the right thing and Legolas is not going to be stubborn or prideful. He needs Elrond and the baby needs Elrond and so he will stay and marry the stuffy old Noldorin Lord. Besides, it seems he was right and the ancient legend truly does love him after all. The twins are still acting like nincompoops but they are at least talking about the situation. You may have noticed they went off with Gandalf and Lindir, and so maybe those two will talk some sense into them. There is a means to settle their rather unnerving problem and still remain true to one another. More on that later. With this crisis passed, there is now the wedding between the mortals and the celebration of Ened Ethuil which follows. Once the humans return to their own realms, things will calm down in Imladris. Hah! Not in this story.

© 07/15/2007 Ellen Robey
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Aearlinn

Aearlinn - Gwaedh Prestannen

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Evening on the Day after the Cinnamon Poisoning ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~