"Sindarnóriello caita mornie, Elrond. Why did you answer the call? Why did you abandon all that you were?"
Rain wept upon the grounds trying to wash away the unwashable. Night blanketed the earth and he would have it remain that way forever. Lost in the heaviness of this moment he came close to making the choice of never leaving, of remaining here until his soul departed for the Halls of Mandos. Even the call of the Sea did not threaten to soothe his heart. He came from a people that had never seen the Undying Lands or the Trees. This place was not in his heritage as it had been for this man he held in his arms.
Tears made a solemn path down the bloodied cheeks of Legolas as he looked down on the Elf that his sword had just cut down. In the blue moonlight the Lord of the Valley made rest, looking pale and beautiful to the eyes of he who kept him. Elrond's hair hung black to the earth, mingling with mud and the blood of Orcs and of Elves. There was a poetic, tragic beauty in what had taken place just a few short hours ago. Elrond had built this place and it was he that had destroyed it. The house was still intact, but his sons would never return. No one would again come to this dirtied place. Its grace was as sullied as the lord who had once lived here; who had healed here and given wisdom from this place.
Wiping a trail of rinsing rain across his cheek, Legolas tried to brush away his weepings so he could see straight. But his tears would not cease. How could this have happened? How could this man he had looked up to-had loved, how could he have turned to the darkness? The story was not straight in anyone's mind, but it was known that somehow Elrond had found his way or been taken to Isengard and there communed with Sauron and chosen to become his servant.
Legolas laid a hand on the dying Lord's brow and rubbed softly, savoring the warmth as a chill breeze swept over their saturated bodies. "Meleth nín, where shall you go when the darkness falls?" he lamented. "Where is the soul taken when a creature of the Dark Lord dies? This is what giving up your grace has bought you."
The trees rustled around them and in the distance thunder rolled, the only sounds that filtered to the hearing of Legolas. The Orcs who now traveled away with the remainder of the Elven captives were long gone. They expected Elrond to follow. Disappointment they would find, but not grief. In a way that made the Wood Elf sad, for Elrond's last companions would not care what had befallen their captain. They would hear of his death and laugh. This is the company Elrond had chosen to surround himself with. He was as alone as he had ever felt.
Yet not alone. Legolas would be here until the end and possibly beyond. Aragorn would come and seek him, of that he had little doubt, but what would the King of Men find when he returned to his once home? Either he would find Legolas weeping over the body of Elrond, or he would find two dead Elves. That choice had not yet been made, but the temptation lingered. He did not want to leave, but nor did he want to remain. He wanted only to be where Elrond was and would be.
The man below stirred, groaning the evidence of life and the Wood Elf peered down at the wound he had delivered. The sword had struck Elrond's stomach, but not down the center as he had intended. Legolas had missed his mark and sent the blow sideways, prolonging life. He could not even kill his lord properly when it was needed. Elrond was in pain, but the other with him held little hope of finding the strength to pierce his flesh once more.
Legolas looked up the yard of Imladris at the dark house, once beautiful and now stricken with lifelessness and dirt. Elrond needed to be taken out of the rain. If he would die, it would be surrounded by what little warmth the younger could provide. And so the Prince of Mirkwood pulled up on his tingling, pained knees and bore the Lord of Rivendell with him to the entrance that stood wide open-a door broken off its hinges and ready to collapse and another already felled. Lightening lit the way, but this path Legolas knew well, even if indeed he had never traveled it with Elrond before.
The bedroom was neat and untouched by the Orcs, perhaps on orders it be left alone or by chance or fate. In the darkness Legolas stumbled, but was quick to catch his footing and find the bed. Elrond groaned when he was laid down and whispered softly something Legolas could not discern as he pulled back the drapes to allow moonlight in. The silhouette of the injured Elf Lord moved in the dimness, watched by loving eyes that needed sleep. "Am I left alone to die?" he whispered, half in search and half to himself by a disoriented tone.
The soft frailty of Elrond's hope fading with each word pulled at Legolas' heart, but he smiled despite the sorrow. He would be able to speak to his love before the departing and that was a gift worth all the ages. "Nay, Elrond. I am here with you."
Silence answered and that was well, for that this man knew he was not alone was the beginning of the emotions Legolas kept and was the most important of all the things he would tell. Lowering himself onto the bed, he reached for the brow of the Elf below and was startled when Elrond gripped his wrist halfway down. "Why are you here?" The coldness of that question made the Wood Elf exhale slowly. His wrist was thrown back.
"It is not my wish that you should face death alone, my friend," he answered truthfully, ignoring Elrond's want to be left alone. Again he sent his hand in search and was this time granted passage to raven hair covered by darkness. Again Elrond was silent and what thoughts he entertained Legolas could not guess. He was content enough to touch and love, even when those feelings were not returned. Many times had he thought of laying in this bed with his hands on the Lord of Rivendell, caressing and learning, pleasuring. Many nights he had lain not three rooms away as a guest and wondered what punishment would meet him if he invaded this room to watch Elrond sleep. In a pale way his dreams were coming true.
The Elf Lord exhaled impatiently-tiredly, but endured the touching. "If you are going to trouble me until the last, then speak, Legolas. Tell me your grievances, that you will not carry them after I leave."
Perhaps there was a ray of light after all. Elrond's spirit searched for punishment for his crimes, but Legolas had other words in mind. A confession to make and Elrond's guilt would have to wait. "My grief is that your grace is gone, my lord. I understand, but..."
"Understand?" Elrond interrupted sharply, gasping as pain assaulted his shivering body. "You do not understand!"
Legolas sniffed and ran the backs of his fingers down Elrond's cheek softly. "No, but I will." He hesitated to speak his heart, but if Elrond wanted guilt, for the fear of Legolas he could have it. The prince leaned closer, stroking the warm face of his love and allowing tears to find his eyes again. "One day, if I remain here, I will be like you. I will grown older and wiser, but in my heart will be a shadow, for like you I will have known what it is to lose love to death. But unlike you, I will not have the hope of sailing across the sea to meet the one my heart desires. I will know for ages to come that he is ever unreachable, for the Lady of Light said he would never be allowed into the places where Elves go when they wither with sorrow or are slain in battle. And why should I pass to either if he be not there, Elrond? Why should I not try and seek him in whatever dark place the servants of Sauron go?" He exhaled and lay close enough that his breath could reach Elrond's face. "This is what you have bought for me, but alas, you did not know and because of that I forgive you your sin."
"Legolas," Elrond whispered low, pushing his hand away. His exhale was uncertain. "Legolas."
Shaking his head, the prince placed two fingers onto Elrond's lips. "Hush, Elrond. I have not spoken all. I will understand the darkness for you if I remain, but what fails me is this. You had the promise of her love waiting for you. Was that not hope enough to keep you from the shadow? Is this sin mine? Could I have given you hope enough to withstand what called you away had I but spoken my mind before?" He gently pressed his forehead into Elrond's temple and nuzzled the long, wet hair nearby. "When I saw you at Helm's Deep I knew I had dealt myself a grave wound by my inaction. When you kissed me there I thought perhaps the sin extended to hurting you and aiding your fall. Did you love me?"
The Lord of Rivendell turned his head from the closeness of the other as he replied coolly, "You did not cause my downfall. The choice was mine and mine alone. Speak not of sins and searching the afterlife for me. The future wills as it wills. You will sail to the Undying Lands and forget these fantasies. Now leave me be here and go seek Aragorn."
"Nay," Legolas whispered, cupping Elrond's cheek and bringing his face back. Holding himself over the elder, he joined their mouths as he had wanted for years, moved that Elrond cared enough to deny the blame and unwilling to allow him to depart without giving that gift once more. The kiss at Helm's Deep had been a twisted version of what may have come had he offered his love before and there Legolas had been unprepared to show love through the act. But here he could at will, binding this man to the knowledge that he was alone no more. The Elf Lord fought the kiss to no avail until finally Legolas had left no hot place untouched by his gentle want. By the end Elrond wept silently, his hand tangled in a mass of blood-spattered, filthy blonde hair. Those tears found the lips of Legolas, who kissed them away and rested his forehead against Elrond's with despair of his own. "I am sorry. You lay dying by my hand and I feel nothing but grief and regret, even if...meleth nín, how could I?"
Elrond drew Legolas' trembling arm over his chest and hugged into the warmth, saying, "Quiet. We both did what was necessary in the contest between us. Light prevailed by your choice, just as darkness would have by mine if it were I who had won. You did no wrong." He took a tired breath and groaned, shifting his position ever so slightly. "Now speak to me of other things than these, Legolas, for I am dark and selfish and would leave this life hearing your voice, even if I do not deserve it."
Through a pained smile, the Prince of Mirkwood did as he was asked, sitting up and looking Elrond over now that his vision had adjusted to the night. The chain links of the Elf Lord's mail-the same design that had covered him three thousand years ago, Legolas imagined-were cold against his skin and just faintly glinted when lightening filled the room. His fingers found the drying strands of raven hair once more as he said, "You look handsome." That drew a soft laugh from his love and Legolas savored the sound longingly. "I wish I could have seen you, riding with Isildur atop a great horse with the wind touching your hair, drawing it back. Or better yet, would that I have been with you in your youth, for I would have made you mine before any other could take you. I daresay you would have had little hope of turning me away."
A husky sound from below and a hand snaking into his hair made Legolas close his eyes and listen to the silence between them. It was precious and peaceful, tender until Elrond yanked him down into his mouth quickly. That act sparked a heated passion in the Wood Elf, who groaned his pleasure into a fiery, encompassing and dark kiss. "What makes you think you would not have been made mine?" Elrond hissed and the sound sent waves of need through Legolas's body.
Legolas dipped his tongue back into the heat for more, petting Elrond and desperately trying to conceive of how to get his clothes off. They could share this. They could take one moment to forget both dark and light and forge something in between, something grey. A moment to unite in love. But his lord would not allow it. Elrond brushed his cheek and pulled away, breathing, "Do not wed yourself to this. I am no being of light. I am less than even my human heritage and will die that way. There is only darkness for me and only light for you."
He respected Elrond's wish-however disappointing, and stopped his yearnings, lying down beside the Lord of Imladris, so close and so warm. "What shall I do?" he asked, wondering what Elrond would want and also asking himself what would come for him after the lord was gone. He could see only few paths ahead, all dark to his eyes in this hour.
"Hold me?" his lord asked gently, sounding vulnerable and weary. "I...I am afraid of what will happen after. Give me comfort?"
Silently now, for he had no strength to speak without fear of weeping, Legolas complied and drew Elrond closer. He would give this to his love, but who would comfort him when the shroud of grief fell over him? No one. He would die alone. If only time were not a quick hunter. If only this had never happened. If only...
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Sindarnóriello Caita Mornie by Novlomien
Chapter end notes: -Sindarnóriello caita mornie. - "From [the] grey country lies darkness."
Meleth nÃn. - "My love."
Midnight inspiration gave me this for my favored pairing. Should I go anywhere with this or leave it be? :O
