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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6313 -:- 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.

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Chapter VII: Bond of the Spirit

Ithilien

It was past midnight and still Legolas sat in the entrance hall of his house, studying the plans for the ship that would bear him and the twins over Sea when word of Arwen’s passing reached them. Shortly before Aragorn’s death, he and Elrohir had visited Edhellond in Dol Amroth and had been gifted with the plans by the shipwrights he had befriended during previous sojourns to the seaward realm.

“Staying up will not bring him to you any faster,” Gimli testily informed him from the depths of the armchair in which he was ensconced.

Legolas grinned and glanced to where his sister lay on a couch, dozing as she, too, awaited her husband’s return. “They will be here soon,” he told his friend. “I would welcome them home.”

“How do you know—?” Gimli broke off and snorted. “You sense his closeness, I suppose.”

The archer nodded. “It is always thusly with all wedded Elves. But it seems particularly strong between Elrohir and myself. I—”

He suddenly stopped and uttered a shocked gasp. Gimli sat up straighter and stared at him in alarm. The prince had paled noticeably.

“Legolas! What is it?”

The archer staggered to his feet, cried out softly in fear and confusion. “Elrohir! Something is terribly wrong--!”

He spun around to find Nimeithel beside him. His sister had awakened at his cry and now sought to discover what ailed him.

“What of Elrohir?” she questioned. “What do you feel?”

“He – he is in pain—” Legolas shook his head, trying to clear it. “He is burning – from within—” He broke off and shuddered. “I must go to him!”

He threw off Nimeithel’s arm and raced out of the house and toward the stables. He paid no heed to her pleas to await her and Gimli but flung himself on his horse and took off with nary a backward glance. Nimeithel swiftly mounted her own horse, pulled Gimli up behind her and followed her brother into the dark.

They rode steadily for hours through the herb-scented woods and glades and across the verdant plains of Ithilien, Legolas never slowing down but only urging his steed to hasten even further. The first light of the dawning day was breaking through the clouds when at last he espied a party of riders in the distance. Elven riders.

He swept the group with his eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Tinnu, Elrohir’s grey warhorse, was riderless. Where was its master? Only then did he realize that not one but two twins rode Elladan’s midnight hued stallion.

He was off his horse and running the rest of the short distance to his spouse. Moments later, Elrohir was being lowered into his outstretched arms. He hurriedly fell to his knees, gathering the Elf-knight close to him, pressing a kiss to his pallid lips. The utter whiteness of Elrohir’s countenance frightened him beyond bearing. The others hurriedly gathered around them.

“What ails him?” he demanded of Elladan as soon as the older twin knelt before him. “What happened?”

Elladan told him the tale as quickly as possible. Legolas nearly turned as white as Elrohir as he came to its end.

“But – but surely there must be a remedy for this!” he insisted. “You are a healer, Elladan! There must be something you can do!”

“There is none!” Elladan shot back in frustration. “Else I would have administered it long afore this. There is nothing I can do!”

He started as Elrohir tugged at his arm. He bent low over his twin.

“Do not send word to Arwen or the King,” Elrohir gasped. “I will not darken our sister’s last days or further add to Eldarion’s losses.”

“As you wish,” Elladan said in a strangled voice, awed that his brother could still think of others when he was in such dire straits.

The younger twin now turned his attention to the archer. He saw how his blue eyes swam with dread and dawning sorrow. “Legolas, I am so sorry,” he said in a thready voice.

“Sorry?” Legolas repeated, bewildered. “By Elbereth’s name, what are you talking about?”

Elrohir swallowed with difficulty. “Had I not taken Gilwen that night, she would never have deluded herself into believing that she could have me.”

"'Tis not your fault, muindor”—brother—Elladan protested. “She believed it because she wanted to. She was driven thus by her loneliness and desperation.”

Legolas drew his mate closer, stroking the pale cheeks with his warm hand, pressing his lips to the dark hair. “Do not leave me, Elrohir,” he pleaded desperately. “I cannot bear losing you.”

“I wish I could grant your wish, Calenlass,” Elrohir choked. “But this is beyond my ability to do so.”

“Nay, do not say that!” Legolas cried out protestingly.

He felt his sister’s hand on his arm. “But surely he will be returned to us,” Nimeithel said, desperately seeking to comfort her distraught brother. “Are not Elves released from the Halls of Mandos after a time of waiting?”

Elladan nodded, his throat tight with grief. “Aye, gwanur”—kinsman— “take comfort from that.”

“But not all are allowed to leave the Halls of Awaiting,” Legolas said harshly. His voice broke on the last words.

“I will come back to you,” Elrohir managed to say. His breath was now coming in irregular gasps. His skin was cold and ashen, his lips pale and pained with the effort to speak. “If I must go down on my knees before all the Valar and Eru himself and beg, I will do it. Trust me, melethron.” —lover.

“Aduial, you said you would never leave me!”

Elrohir nearly sobbed at the prince’s anguish. “We will not say farewell. We will be together again,” he rasped. He marked the beginnings of despair in the fair archer’s eyes. He tightened his failing grip on the other’s hand. “Promise me that you will not despair,” he demanded weakly. “Promise me, Legolas.”

The prince choked on his words. “I-I promise.”

“Sail West,” Elrohir murmured. “Wait for me…”

He glanced at Gimli. The Dwarf took his hand and leaned down to catch his nearly indiscernible words. “Take care of him for me, mellon nîn”—my friend—the twin pleaded. “Do not let him fade.”

Gimli had to clear his throat. Struggling against the uncharacteristic trembling of his gruff voice, he staunchly said, “I swear, I will stay by him. Be at peace, son of Elrond.”

Elrohir managed a weak smile of gratitude. He turned his eyes back to Legolas. His waning vision revealed the prince’s grief-ravaged features. But what he saw was his spouse’s incandescence, his wondrous shining beauty.

“You are still the closest thing to perfection that I have ever known,” he falteringly whispered to the archer.

“Elrohir—!”

With a final spurt of strength, Elrohir reached up to grasp the prince by the nape and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Legolas poured all his love into the caress, willing some of his own life’s grace into the warrior’s fading body. But the pull of Mandos’ Halls would not be denied. As Elrohir’s lips stilled beneath his, Legolas felt his Elf-knight’s last thought brush his mind. I love you, Calenlass nîn.

The prince drew away with a gasp. Realization struck him with brutal force. With a terrible cry he laid his head upon his mate’s now silent breast. He barely heard the sobs of Nimeithel and the twins or the raggedly whispered prayer by Elladan; scarcely felt Gimli’s convulsive grip on his shoulder.

*********

He laid Elrohir to rest in the secluded glade they had loved so well. Their sanctuary by the gurgling spring with its lacy waterfall. He visited every single day. He stayed by the green mound until the others insistently led him away. And he grieved as he had never done in all his millennia of life. A part of him had been torn from him and the wound remained open, raw and unhealing. It would not close. He knew it never would. Not until Elrohir was restored to him.

He was not the only one in mourning or Elladan and his family. Gloom swathed Eryn Gael in the wake of the tragedy. The Elves made regular pilgrimages to his grave. Tended it and always adorned it with fresh garlands and the sweetest herbs. Elrohir had been as much loved by the Elves of Ithilien as Legolas. With his loss came a dimming of the light and laughter of the Glimmering Wood. And a veil of secrecy was drawn about the settlement as well. No word would reach the world outside of the Elf-knight’s passing. No record of it would be written down in any book. His and his twin’s withdrawal from the world of mortal beings would be perpetually shrouded in mystery henceforth.

Meanwhile, Legolas began the building of the ship that would bear him away to the Undying Lands. He could no longer wait for Arwen’s passing. Middle-earth had lost its allure and become cold and grey now that his spouse was gone. He would tarry not on these shores. He would not remain in Middle-earth one second longer than necessary. Elrohir’s spirit now abided in Aman. Where his Elf-knight was, there he would go.

The others understood. They supported his decision and aided him in his endeavor. And they all looked after him, determined to keep him hale and whole against the day when Elrohir should return to reclaim him. As such, one of them was always about, seeing to his state of being, never leaving him alone for long.

It was for this reason that Elladan sought him one day and found him weeping by himself, concealed in a small clearing on a low hill by Anduin. Below, in the wide river, a grey ship lay in the new harbor the Elves of Ithilien had built. It was nearing completion.

The older twin sat by his side and curled a consoling arm around him. Legolas leaned against him, his body heaving with the terrible sobs that wracked him. Elladan allowed him to vent his grief as much as he needed to and desired.

“This is my doing,” the archer flayed himself tearfully. “He offered to keep her from accompanying you but I told him not to. And for what reason? I should have agreed!”

“Don’t, Legolas,” Elladan said. “Elrohir would never have blamed you for this.”

“But—”

“What happened was not your doing in the least. It cannot even be called an error in judgment for how could you have known what she would do in her madness?” He forestalled any further self-flagellations from the archer by pointing out: “If you would condemn yourself then so should the rest of us take our share of the blame, even Elrohir. We could have denied Gilwen’s request to escort her to her home, refused her offer of wine. But we did not and so I have lost my brother and you your mate. Will you fault us as well for our part in this?”

The archer swallowed hard then shook his head. Elladan gently said: “Then blame yourself no more. Elrohir would not be pleased to see you hurting from more than grief.”

Legolas fell silent for a long while. At length he looked up and gazed at the ship in the near distance. His ship.

“How do you endure it?” he hoarsely asked at last. “You seem so – so at peace, Elladan, yet I know you are as torn as I. I swore to him I would not despair but – oh Valar, gwanur, I cannot do this. I cannot—!” He buried his face in the warrior’s shoulder.

Elladan held him tightly, stroked his shining hair as Elrohir had oft done. “I can endure it because of our bond of brotherhood,” he softly replied.

Legolas raised his tousled head and stared at him through reddened, tear-raw eyes. “Your bond?” he quavered.

“Aye, gwanur. His body may be vanquished but his spirit still lives. And our bond is of the spirit. As is yours.”

He cupped the sorrowing archer’s face and looked closely at him. “Your grief has overtaken you and that is but normal,” he murmured. “But it also hinders you from feeling your bond with him. It is there, Legolas, if you would but seek it. It is eternal; it will never diminish. In that sense, Elrohir is still with you.”

“How can I feel it?” Legolas begged piteously. “Help me, Elladan. I cannot go on like this.”

“Reach into the innermost part of yourself, Legolas. Seek the channel through which your love flowed most strongly between you.” He smiled gently at his law-brother. “You knew it best when you coupled with him.”

Legolas gazed at him. Saw the truth in his storm-blue eyes. The serenity that lay in their depths stemmed from the certitude of his twin’s still existent eternal flame.

The archer trembled then closed his eyes. Striving to set aside his sorrow and loneliness, he did as Elladan counselled him and sought the center of his being. Opened his heart and soul anew despite the fear of feeling naught but emptiness and the hopelessness that would accompany it.

He willed himself to calm down, to remember only the joy and contentment of his years with Elrohir. With the gentling of his grief, his tormented soul quieted. And listened.

It came then. Like the softest note at the beginning of a melody before it burst into the glorious strains of the chorus. A tender welling of love that blossomed and spiraled within him. A love not his own but that came from without. Through the binding channel. He drew in a sobbing breath as it flowed over him and through him and around him, enfolding him in its sweetness and warmth. He reached out, allowed his own feelings passage to his spouse. And felt the wondrous wave of acceptance and gratefulness coming through the channel.

A measure of peace came over him then. Elrohir was indeed with him. He knew he would still grieve, that he would still face days of shadowed mourning and nights of black sorrow. There could be no full assuagement of his anguished yearning. But this precious connection between them, however ephemeral, would succor him in his darkest moments. With its help, he would stave off despair as he had promised Elrohir.

He opened his eyes and saw that Elladan still regarded him, still held his face in his hands. He found the wherewithal to smile at the twin.

“Thank you, gwanur,” he whispered.

He sighed as Elladan pressed a kiss to his temple. The Elvenlord rose and pulled him to his feet.

“Come, he awaits you in Valinor,” Elladan quietly said. And they walked down the hill together.

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

Glossary:

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

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

To be continued…
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight