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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4698 -:- 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
- 1-Meeting
- 2-Learning
- 3-Restraint
- 4-Coping
- 5-Guile
- 6-Awakening
- 7-Undoing
- 8-Musings
- 9-Sojourn
- 10-Reckoning
- 11-Illumination
- 12-Avowal
- 13-Beloved
- 14-Visitations
- 15-Tryst
- 16-Choice
- 17-Torn
- 18-Resolve
- 19-Voyage
- 20-Fate
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter VIII: Musings

Rhîw FA 8

Only the lightest powdering of snow adorned the fair woods of Ithilien and even then not in all places. And the air while crisp was not unbearably cold. In the south, winters by and large were as mild as the summers were invariably fierce.

Imrahil trod the now familiar path through the groves behind Legolas’ halls, a thick cloak about his tall frame all that was needed to ward off the biting breeze. He had always been more resistant to the extremes of climate than most men, a fact he’d been thankful for when he’d been forced to stay afield at the heights of either winter or summer during the Dark Lord’s ascendancy. Just as the worst winters fazed him little, so was he seldom troubled by the heat of a Gondor summer.

It was his third visit to the elven colony in as many months. He could not help it. It beckoned to him irresistibly. Whether that was due to its enchanting elvishness or the allure of a certain Elf, he did not know. He only knew that he felt very much at home here though he was the only mortal in its denizens’ midst. More at home even than in Emyn Arnen.

As he passed beneath one still surprisingly leaf-bedecked tree, he heard a low whistle from above. Looking up with a start, he grinned when he found himself staring into Legolas’ sapphire eyes. The Elf was perched on one of the branches, his long legs stretched out along the length of the tree limb. He patted the stout branch to his left in tacit invitation.

After some hesitation, Imrahil threw dignity to the chill wind and clambered up the tree to take the proffered seat. Legolas chuckled approvingly. Until Imrahil winced unexpectedly when he settled on the branch. The Elf frowned with concern and reached out a steadying hand.

“Are you all right?” he queried.

Imrahil nodded. “Aye, do not worry about me. I am only in need of some respite.” The man groaned and leaned back against the trunk. “Your law-brother is – inexhaustible”

A peal of laughter greeted this understated observation. “Elrohir is no different,” Legolas grinningly said. “All the Peredhil are well endowed in more than their forms. Even the Lord Elrond had quite a reputation when Lady Celebrían still abided in Rivendell.”

“Did he now?” Imrahil said interestedly.

“Most assuredly,” Legolas snickered. “I warrant she languished in Valinor for want of his attention.”

Imrahil stared at him with some astonishment. “You are wicked of tongue even with your kin-by-law!”

“And you are easily discomfited for a warrior of great prowess and peerless repute,” Legolas shot back with a chuckle.

Imrahil sighed. “Even in my dissolute youth, I was never as free with my opinions on such matters as you or the brethren,” he admitted. “Such openness astonishes me.”

“Then forgive me mine,” Legolas said. “But if I am at ease speaking of them in so familiar a manner, ‘tis because I am familiar with them.”

His assertion recalled to Imrahil the conversation he’d had with Elladan during their pivotal camping trip. He said: “Elladan tells me you and Elrohir have known each other for all of your nine hundred years.”

Legolas nodded in confirmation. “I cannot clearly recall a time when I did not know him,” he replied with much tenderness. “He has been a part of my life since the day I was born. I cannot conceive of an existence bereft of his presence. And I am always loath to part from him.”

“Yet you took an oath that compels you to do just that.”

The Elf’s eyes clouded over then. “I made mistakes,” he said in a hushed voice. “Out of folly and pride and misguided fears. ‘Tis for one of those errors that he and I will perforce pay should he have to leave Middle-earth before Aragorn passes away.” Legolas’ eyes glistened mournfully. “My sole comfort is the knowledge that I will be with him once more and that we will never be parted again.” After a pensive while, he forcibly discarded his melancholic mood and glanced at the man. “But you, my lord? You have no such consolation for the loss of your wife. How do you fare now?”

Imrahil did not speak at once and Legolas did not press him to do so. At length a faint smile curled his lips. “I cannot deny that I miss her to this day. We were wed longer than we were free. And she was as much my friend and confidante as she was my wife and lover. But her loss no longer grieves me as it did ere I came here. The wound has healed in this place you have built, Legolas. Because of the peace I have felt here. Because of your people’s kindness and merry ways.” He paused. “Because of Elladan,” he said under his breath.

Legolas’ eyes had softened with the man’s recitation of his passage to healing. But at the mention of the older twin, they glittered curiously. “Do you love him?” he murmured.

Imrahil was startled by the direct question. He looked a little uncertainly at the Elf-prince. And then he shook his head. “I do not know,” he confessed. “This has all been so sudden that I have not even had the chance to examine my feelings. Eru, before I met him, I had not even thought of the possibility of two men coupling, let alone that I would know the experience myself or consider giving my heart to one.”

Legolas indulged in a sympathetic chuckle. “But surely you do not regret it,” he said.

“Nay, I do not,” Imrahil smiled. “Only a fool would rue something that has brought him joy. There is so little of it as it is in many a life.”

Legolas regarded him with the air of a brother. And brothers they were in the choices of their hearts however brief or lasting. He reached out a hand and clasped the man’s shoulder in comradely fashion.

“You will always be welcome here, Imrahil,” he said warmly.

*******

The cold season passed more swiftly than Imrahil could possibly like. From his initial hesitation to winter in his nephew’s abode, he had swung widely in the opposite direction and was now reluctant to end his stay and return to his seaward realm. He had made several visits to the elven colony in the course of the season. Each time he had come back to Emyn Arnen refreshed and high in spirits. It was as if his sojourns with the Elves rejuvenated him. As Éowyn remarked at one point to her husband, it seemed as if his uncle looked younger than when he first arrived in Ithilien, strange and impossible though it sounded. Faramir had not been able to gainsay her.

On two occasions Legolas and the brethren had come to Emyn Arnen instead. The first to celebrate Elboron’s birthing-day and the second to attend the winter festival held in the city each January’s end. Both times they had been guests of Faramir. And both times, by luck or by fate, Imrahil and Elladan had wound up in neighboring chambers.

It was during the latter visit that Imrahil came to recognize the nature of his feelings with regards to his Elven lover.

The prince looked out at the near empty streets of the city from his window. His chamber was one of those that overlooked the outer wall of his nephew’s keep and thus afforded him a view of the normally busy avenues beyond. But it was now after dusk and the cold had deepened with the sinking of the pallid winter sun. Only the most hardy of folk enjoyed the outdoors at this time of the day.

Elves among them, Imrahil thought smilingly as he espied Elrohir and Legolas sauntering down the darkening road back to the hold. A moment later, he chortled when Legolas playfully chucked a fistful of snow at the Elf-knight. Elrohir did not hesitate to retaliate in kind and soon a lively battle took place just outside the walls of Faramir’s halls. It ended when Elrohir suddenly tackled Legolas and both landed behind a nice thick clump of snow-mantled brush. They did not emerge at once.

Imrahil shook his head. They were daring to take the risk of being seen in so public a place. But then again, he had witnessed their razor sharp senses and lightning quick reflexes frequently enough to know that any mortal had as much chance of sneaking up on them unnoticed as a herd of Mûmakil attempting to invade Emyn Arnen unseen and unheard. He snickered at the thought.

“What is there to amuse you so heartily, my prince?”

Imrahil turned to regard the darkling Elf who graced his bed with such sleek adamantine beauty. Elladan had come to his chamber early this evening bearing a basket of bread, cheese and fruit and a pitcher of mulled wine. Faramir was entertaining some noble guests and that entailed a formality of manner and dress that none of the Elves could endure. At least, not when said guests were of a party of insufferable, long-winded barons who thought nothing of regaling one and all with the dullest tales this side of Anduin. Hence Elrohir and Legolas’ decision to dine at a nearby inn and the reason for Elladan to bring dinner to Imrahil’s room.

Of course, dinner had ended not with a toast but with a tumble. Imrahil drew his robe more snugly around him in an unconscious effort to conceal the never-ending telltale love-bruises on his neck and shoulders. Elladan, however, flaunted his even when in the presence of others. It had led to much speculation amongst the residents of the keep as to which lusty wench, blue-blooded or not, was keeping the Elvenlord’s bed warm. Imrahil dryly considered the consequences should any ever discover that ‘twas no wench who kept the Elf company.

“A snow fight between two Elves makes for considerable entertainment,” he answered Elladan. “As does their truce-making afterwards.” Elladan laughed at this lubricious allusion. “Though you really must counsel them to observe proper decorum,” Imrahil added. “We are not amongst your people after all.”

Elladan snorted humorously. “I? Lecture my brother on propriety?” he retorted mildly. “I should have as much credibility as an Orc urging peace and goodwill on his fellows.”

Imrahil chuckled. “Then I suppose I will have to take that task upon myself.”

Elladan eyed him languorously. “I would rather you shed that robe,” he drawled. “And come back to bed, Imrahil nîn.”—my Imrahil.

That effectively heated up every nerve in Imrahil’s body. “‘Tis not even Elboron’s bedtime and already we have rutted enough for any five couples in the keep,” he protested.

“And we shall rut enough for another five,” Elladan rejoined. “Now then, are you coming here or must I persuade you?”

Mindful of the noise that always ensued under the warrior’s methods of persuasion, Imrahil duly complied and, after shrugging off his robe, slid back into bed beside Elladan. It was nearly an hour later before they could turn their attention to more mundane matters.

Nestled in Elladan’s arms, Imrahil pondered his conflicted feelings. On the one hand, he was inclined to be cautious about getting in any deeper than he was already. But on the other, he had not felt so much felicity and contentment as he had found in Elladan’s company. Not even with his beloved wife, he realized with a mix of consternation and wonder. He considered what this incipient feeling might portend for him.

Elladan cared for him, that much he believed to be true. The Elf was unfailingly affectionate with him and as far as desire was concerned, there was not a speck of doubt as to where Elladan’s lay. But he was mortal. What Elf would venture his love in a relationship that was doomed to end from the very start of it? If his feelings blossomed into active love, he could not expect the same of Elladan. At most, he would have to make do with the Elf’s tender regard and inimitable friendship. Unaccountably, a wave of sadness overcame him and he sighed dolefully.

“What is wrong?” Elladan murmured against his hair.

Imrahil shook his head, reluctant to reveal his concerns and thus burden his lover in turn. “‘Tis only that winter will soon come to an end and I will need to return to Belfalas,” he offered instead. “I confess it disheartens me.”

Elladan stroked his hair then pressed a kiss to his chestnut crown. It was gestures such as this that made Imrahil believe that there was more to the Elf’s attentions than mere lust.

“And Elrohir and I will have to journey north come spring,” he said. “I will need to comfort my poor brother for many a year until he can be with Legolas again.”

Imrahil longed to ask the Elf if he would need comforting himself but he bit the question back. He would not give Elladan reason to think that he was turning maudlin and possessive with him.

“When do you think will you come back south?” he asked, hoping his anxiety did not show.

“I do not know for certain,” Elladan admitted. “The Elves west of the Misty Mountains look to my brother and me for guidance and assistance. And my grandsire Celeborn does not fare well when we are away.”

“He lives with you?” Imrahil asked, remembering the tall and majestic silver-haired Elf who was husband to the former Lady of the Wood.

“Aye, for many years now. He resided awhile in the south of Greenwood with many of his Galadhrim. But he wearied of that realm and at last came to Imladris to dwell with us.”

“He misses his lady,” Imrahil whispered.

“Very much.”

“Why then did he not sail with her?”

“He was not ready to forsake Middle-earth. Nor is he now. Indeed, I believe he will outstay us all save perhaps for Legolas’ father, Thranduil.” He pursed his lips musingly. “‘Tis passing difficult to leave the place of one’s birth for a strange land. It will not surprise me should grandfather wait until the last ship to Valinor sets sail.”

Imrahil fell silent. The feeling of loneliness and abandonment grew even stronger with the telling of the Elves’ own partings.

“Then I suppose this will be the last we shall see of each other,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady and strong. But the effort it took… “It will be hard to bid you farewell come winter’s end, Elladan. I only pray you will remember me with fondness at the very least.”

Silence greeted his words and he wondered if he should have uttered them at all. And then Elladan’s fingers ran through his locks once more, gently, slowly.

“Fie on you to speak of parting and sorrow this soon,” Elladan said. He added lightly: “Besides, you can always come to Rivendell and visit me if you wish.”

Imrahil lifted his head and looked at his lover in surprise. “I have never journeyed so far before,” he remarked.

Elladan smiled. “Then if you should come north, I shall make sure you get to explore as much of the region around Imladris as possible.”

Imrahil smiled back, feeling much comforted by the unexpected invitation. “I would like that indeed,” he said.

Elladan drew him down again into a liquid kiss. “Enough talk for now,” he whispered against Imrahil’s lips. “I would rather put your mouth to better use.”

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

Glossary:

rhîw – Sindarin for winter

Galadhrim – the people of Lothlórien

To be continued...
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Twilight Tales - Hallowed Fate