Title:  Nirnaeth am mbar
Author:  elfinesse
Author's Email:  elfinessa@lycos.com (yes, the 'a' at the end is correct)
Pairings:  Elladan/Filigwî (Figwit - see author's notes)
Rating:  NC-17 (graphic m/m)
Summary:  A young student's homesickness turns to life-threatening grief. Can
Elladan save him or will he succumb to the same fate?  Complete
Disclaimer:  Most characters belong to Tolkien.  Figwit, of course, is the
pretty elf from Peter Jackson's movies.
Author's Notes:  Melpomaen is a flawed translation of Figwit.  Since there is no
word for 'fig' in Sindarin (or Quenya, for that matter - melpo is Qenya), I
decided to try for the general sound of 'Figwit', though the result is somewhat
nonsensical (and not the best Sindarin grammar, either).  Filigwî means 'caves
of nets' (maybe the kid was conceived in a cave full of nets?).

~~~~~~~~~~An Unhappy Start (Chapter 1/4)~~~~~~~~~~

"Yes?"

Filigwîî looked down, holding tight to his valise as if it were a shield.  "I
was told to ask for Lord Erestor."

"What?  Speak up, child."

"I was told to ask for Lord Erestor."

The butler shook his head impatiently.  "Come in.  Do you have a name?"

"Filigwî Trenaronion."

The butler muttered something and hurried off.  Filigwî stood waiting in the
foyer, unsure whether to follow the elf or await his return.  When the butler
had not come back after some time, Filigwî decided that he was meant to have
followed him.  He entered the main hall and looked around at the confusing
passages.  Finally, he took a tentative step in the direction of the largest
passageway.  Perhaps he would meet someone who could tell him where to go.

"The kitchen staff has retired for the evening.  You will have to wait until
morning if you are hungry.  Come, Lord Erestor is waiting."  The butler turned
on his heel.  Filigwî followed, his face burning with embarrassment.

Erestor read the letters of introduction slowly.  Finally, he looked up at the
elf seated anxiously across from him.  The child looked like a frightened little
bird.  He was small - far too small to be a full-grown elf.  "How old are you,
little one?"

"I will be fifty this summer, my lord."

Erestor shook his head.  True, Imladris had taken on students of Filigwî's age
before, but this little elf looked as if he still expected his mother to tuck
him into bed.  Still, he understood why Elrond had allowed it.  The healer to
Lord Gildor's people - herself a former student at Imladris - had given the elf
a glowing recommendation.  That, by itself, would not have swayed Elrond, but
the youngster's interest in herbology had proved too compelling to ignore, for
few elves chose to study this rigorous discipline.  He sighed and called for the
butler.

"Please ask Saeladh to come to my office."

A green-clad elf, some years older than Filigwî, for he had attained the full
height of an adult, appeared in the doorway a few moments later.

"This is Saeladh.  You will be sharing his rooms.  He will show you what you
need to know."

A look of incredulity passed over the tall elf's face, and he did not hide the
irritation in his voice.  "Come.  I have yet much work to do tonight."

Filigwî hurried to gather his single bag of belongings and follow the older elf.

"And Filigwî," Erestor added as the two students left his office.  "Mind the
bells.  The first will signal breakfast.  The second signals the beginning of my
lecture.  I do not tolerate tardiness."

"You had best keep that in mind," Saeladh said as they hurried up the stairs. 
The taller elf easily took the stairs two at a time, leaving Filigwî to scramble
after him.

Their rooms included a tiny receiving area and a study.  Saeladh led him to the
bedchamber.  "You may put your things in the dressing room."

Filigwî nodded.  "You are from Mirkwood, no?"  The gentle lilt in the older
elf's accent could only come from the Northern Kingdom.

"I am, but I hardly see why that should concern you," the older elf answered
defensively.

"I meant no harm," Filigwî said desperately.  "I was only trying to
be…friendly."

"Let us get one thing straight:  I have spent the last two years writing a
treatise on orc poisons and I will spend the next four months amending it and if
it does not then meet Lord Erestor's specifications, I will have to spend
another year at my studies.  I am not interested in conversation and I have no
time to play nursemaid to a child hardly weaned from his mother's teat."

Filigwî cringed visibly, and Saeladh blew out his breath in exasperation.  "Just
be quiet, and we will have no trouble."  He left the younger elf alone in the
dressing room.

With shaking hands, Filigwî put away his meager belongings.  His mother and
father were performers among Lord Gildor's people, troubadours who lived a
transient life.  They lived well enough, but traveled lightly, and the young elf
had little besides some clothing and a few books.

When he had finished, he stood in the dressing room, wondering what to do.  His
roommate certainly did not want to be bothered with him.  He supposed that he
could start a letter to his family, but what would he say?  'I hate this place
and I want to come home'?  No, that would never do.  Besides, this was what he
had wanted, was it not?

He decided to go to bed.  His people wintered in the south, and the journey from
Gondor had been long and miserable.  He changed into a nightshirt and climbed
into the bed, a much softer and luxurious bed than anything he had known before. 
He was used to sleeping on a hammock or, in bad weather, on a pallet in his
family's crowded caravan.  Despite the comfort of the bed and his exhaustion,
elven dreams refused to come to him.

He heard his roommate enter the room and ready himself for bed.  Filigwî moved
over to the very edge, turning his back to the other elf and feigning sleep. 
When the other elf's breathing grew regular, Filigwî finally let hot tears flow. 
Lord Erestor clearly did not want him here and his roommate hated him.  He would
have traded all the soft beds in the world to be back in his family's safe and
familiar caravan.

As a rosy glow brightened the sky, Saeladh shook his roommate awake, noting his
tearstained face and huddled posture.  The little one had called for his naneth
in the night, and the Sinda felt a bit guilty for his sour mood.  "You had best
get up.  The bell for breakfast has just rung."  He waited while the other elf's
blank eyes focused.  "There is a basin for washing and chamber pot in the
dressing room.  The dining room is on the ground floor - turn left when you come
down the stairs."  He grabbed his cloak and hurried to leave.  "I would show
you, but I fear I will be late."

Filigwî nearly fell out of bed, unused to the bed's height and forgetting that
he had been sleeping nearly on the edge.  Once dressed, he went downstairs, but
somehow missed his way and ended up in a long corridor of closed doors.  The
second bell rang, and the young elf began to panic.  He was going to be late for
his first lecture.  He tried to retrace his steps and only ended up more lost. 
Growing more and more anxious, he broke a run when he saw a tall figure enter
the far end of the corridor.

"Please, my lord, please could you tell me how to get to the library?"

"At ease, little one," he said, with the first kind smile Filigwî had seen since
his arrival.  "No need for such panic.  Come with me."  He put a gentle hand on
the young elf's back and led him down that confusing corridor to a stairway. 
"Go up the stairway, and you will be in the library."

"Thank you, my lord," Filigwî answered gratefully.  He rushed up the stairs and
found himself in the library.  All eyes turned to him as he hastily found a
place and sat down.  Lord Erestor did not pause in his lecture, but frowned at
the latecomer.

The lecture ended with a bell announcing the dinner hour.  Erestor stopped the
new student as he followed in the wake of the other elves.  "I warned you that I
would not tolerate tardiness."  He sent the young elf to his secretary, who set
him to cleaning quills.

Filigwî made certain to get precise directions to the dispensary from the
secretary.  His afternoons would be spent under the tutelage of the apothecary,
and given all he had experienced so far, he felt a little sick to his stomach at
the thought of meeting yet another new person.

"Ah, the new apprentice," the apothecary greeted him.  "Not many find my craft
of much interest.  The healers are lauded as heroes, and I only hear complaints
that my draughts taste terrible."  He laughed and beckoned to the young elf. 
"Well, come in, little one.  You may call me Saer-diuw, like everyone else.  I
have a proper name, but I have near forgotten it after all these years.  We must
wait for this to boil, and then I think we will work in the garden - it is time
to get the soil ready for planting."

Filigwî looked around the dispensary in wonder.  From floor to ceiling, the
walls held shelves of bottles and baskets of dried herbs in wonder.  Lord
Gildor's people seldom had need of their healer.  Minor injuries, usually
involving injudicious amounts of wine, were the mainstay of her work, though in
recent years the troubadours had met evil men and even orcs in their travels. 
These brought the healer more work than she wanted.

Imladris, with its larger population and active warriors, kept half a dozen
healers and twice that many students busy, and often treated men in addition to
elves.  "That requires a whole different set of remedies," the apothecary
explained.  "Men get sick and get infected wounds."

The apothecary had a deep love and respect for his vocation, and was genuinely
pleased to have a student with whom to share the millennia of lore he had
collected.  They spent a companionable afternoon in the garden, and for a while,
Filigwî forgot his homesickness.  He was surprised when the bell for the evening
meal sounded.  He realized that he was terribly hungry, not having eaten since
the previous day.  In the dining room, he saw that there were perhaps two dozen
students at Imladris.  At the head table sat Master Elrond and his family.  With
a little shock, Filigwî saw that his savior of that morning had been none other
than one of Elrond's twin sons.

The young elf soon fell into the routine of his strange new life, though he
could not say he was happy.  He found his afternoons with the apothecary
fascinating, but could not get over his terror of Lord Erestor.  It seemed he
could never please the stern loremaster.  Had he been a little older and less
self-absorbed, he might have noticed that none of the students seemed to please
Erestor.

Spring came, and as ever, Filigwî thought wistfully of his family.  They would
be making their way to the Havens at this time of year.  His mind on home, he
entered the dispensary with less enthusiasm than usual.  Saer-diuw looked up
from a sheet of figures his student had calculated the previous day for adapting
a remedy for use on a Hobbit.  "We will go over these figures in a moment, but
first, you are to see Rasweg."

Filigwî frowned.  "Were my calculations not right?"

The apothecary laughed.  "No, they are quite accurate.  You have forgotten one
small variable, but we will discuss that later."

Still worried, Filigwî went to see the head healer, who had day-to-day charge of
the healing rooms and answered only to Master Elrond.

"Come into my office, Filigwî."  Rasweg waited for the youngster to be seated. 
"Lord Elladan suggested that I speak with you."

"Lord Elladan?"

"This will only take a moment."  The healer sat down across from him.  "How do
you like Imladris, Filigwî?"

"Well enough, my lord," the young elf said politely.

"And your studies are going well?"

"I - I think so, though Lord Erestor is always unhappy with me."

"Are you very homesick?"

Filigwî looked down.  "I suppose."

The young elf had given all the right answers, but his appearance told a
different story.  He seemed overwrought and anxious.  He was too pale and too
small for his age.  The healer faulted an anxiety-prone personality - the elf
probably had not been much different at home.  Still, he agreed with the
peredhel - the young elf would have a nervous collapse - or worse - if something
were not done.

"I am going to send you back to Saer-duiw now, but I will ask him to give you a
draught to be taken at bedtime.  And you must eat more."

"I know, I am just always late and sometimes I cannot get to the dining room,"
Filigwî apologized.

"Well, if that happens, you can always go to the kitchens.  You are still a
growing elf."

Filigwî nodded, certain that he would never dare to approach the cook.

As he fell asleep that night, his last thought was to wonder why Lord Elladan
would have spoken to the healer on his behalf.  And then, with the aid of the
draught, he fell into a sleep deeper than normal elven sleep, to the great
relief of his roommate, who would not be wakened by the young elf's nightmares.

June came with its warm weather and the first herbs of the  garden were ready
for picking.  Things seemed to be going better.  He did not wake late and
unrested and even Lord Erestor had been in an unusually good mood.  But
something else brightened the young elf's spirits.

He was rushing to the library one morning when he ran right into Lord Elladan -
or was it Elrohir?  He was never certain.

"Always you are in a rush, little one," Elladan laughed.

Filigwî reddened.  "I am late again for Lord Erestor."

The peredhel smiled in sympathy, recalling his own student days.  "He is a
difficult master, but you could not ask for a better teacher.  And I assure you,
he is most demanding of his best students."  He thought the young elf looked
less worried and wan than he had in the spring.  He had color in his cheeks and
light in his eyes.  "You are looking more cheerful."

Filigwî smiled.  It was a rare sight, and Elladan noticed how it changed the
elf's lean face into a thing of beauty.  "Midsummer is coming."

"Ah, and you are expecting your people to arrive soon."

"Yes, my lord."

"Then it will indeed be a happy occasion, for we always look forward to their
songs on Midsummer Night and you will be happy to see your family again.  Well,
you had best get to Lord Erestor's lecture or he will be certain to devise the
most tedious punishment."

The elf nodded and hurried off, unaware of the eyes that looked thoughtfully
after him.

Lord Gildor's people arrived several days before Midsummer.  While the common
folk set up their camp, their Lord came to the main house as an honored guest. 
Filigwî wanted to run up into the glen immediately to see his family, but he
knew he must first pay proper respect to his lord.

"Well met, little one.  I hope you have been studying hard," the lord said,
after the youngster had come forth.

"Yes, my lord."

"Well, then you will deserve this break from studying, for is it not true that
Master Elrond locks up the libraries and insists that the students join in the
merrymaking?"

"So I hear.  Yet, mostly I only wish to see my family."

"Your family?"  Lord Gildor seemed to be trying to place the young elf with his
kin.  "Indeed, I am certain it is them," he muttered to himself.  "You are the
son of Trenaron, are you not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then I am astonished that you did not know.  Your parents have gone to Tol
Eressëa, little one.  They left when we came to the Havens in the spring."


~~~~~~~~~~Heartsick (Chapter 2/4)~~~~~~~~~~

Filigwî struggled to open his eyes.  His head ached fiercely and everything
looked hazy and dark.  He heard a voice speak his name as he tried to order his
jumbled mind - he was in his room, he realized, and someone was stroking his
hair.  His mother - no!  Lord Gildor's words came back to him and his stomach
lurched.  "I think I will be sick," he said thickly.

Someone helped him to sit up slightly and produced a basin.  Filigwî clung to
the arm holding him for dear life - he was so dizzy he was afraid he would fall
off the high bed.  When he was done, he closed his eyes and lay down, the
thumping of his head overwhelming all other sensation.

A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead.  He heard voices speaking in quiet
tones.  "Here is some water," someone said, helping him to sit up again.  He
opened his eyes as he lay down.  The room was dim, slivers of sunlight - shards
of glass to his aching head - peeked out from the edges of the curtains.  Lord
Elladan had been sitting by his bed, but now he got up to make way for his
father.  The ancient peredhel felt gently behind the elf's head.

"You have a good-sized bump on your head, but I think you will mend.  The
swelling is going down already."  He turned to Elladan.  "I will get one of the
students to come up and sit with him."

"I will stay with him.  I do not mind, Adar."

When Master Elrond had left, Filigwî stirred as Elladan resumed his place.  "You
do not need to sit with me."  It did not seem right to him.  "I will be all
right with one of the students."

"Hush.  Let me decide that."

Filigwî felt behind his head.  "How - ?"

"You fainted and hit your head on the floor."

Filigwî blinked back tears as he recalled the events of the morning.  His
breathing quickened, his hands knotting around the sheets, and Elladan put a
hand to the elf's brow, worried about the youngster's agitation.  "Easy, little
one.  You will feel better if you cry rather than hold the pain inside."

With these words, the dam broke and the elf cried until exhaustion claimed him.

When he awoke, the absence of light around the curtains told him it was night. 
Lord Elladan still sat by his bed, reading by the light of a candle.  He looked
up.  "Are you hungry, Fileg?"

In spite of his churning stomach, Filigwî blinked in surprise at the epessë, one
his father had sometimes used - 'little bird', it meant, and he found it strange
that his lord would call him by this endearment.  "No, I do not think I could
eat."

"Perhaps later, then."  He stood up and poured some water, which the elf took
eagerly, draining the glass in a few gulps.  "More?" Elladan asked, faintly
amused.  He refilled the glass at the elf's nod.

"Do not think your parents did not love you.  The call of Aman is loud and many
elves grow weary of the darkness that falls," the peredhel said, when Filigwî
had drunk his fill.  "You know my mother left," he continued, his eyes hooded to
hide his emotions.

Filigwî had been a small child when Celebrian had gone to Aman, but he
remembered the adults whispering of something terrible, of some injury that
could not be healed.  "But that was different - she had to go, did she not?"

Elladan gave him a twisted smile.  "Sometimes I wondered.  I thought that if she
loved us enough, she would have stayed.  But that was not true.  And it is not
true of your parents, either."

"Then why did they leave me behind?"

"You are too young to leave Middle-Earth.  You would have regretted it - the
Undying Lands do not call to you yet.  Believe me, if I could have left, I would
have gone with my mother.  But I could not bear to leave this land yet."

Filigwî lay in silence for a while, realizing that he was utterly alone.  Would
he be sent back to Lord Gildor's people?  He was not sure how his room and board
had been paid.  In the midst of his thoughts, he felt a pressing need to use the
chamber pot, and shyly admitted this to Lord Elladan.  When he was done, the
peredhel helped him to wash up a bit and change into a fresh nightshirt.

Once he had helped the elf back into bed, Elladan undid Filigwî's braids and
began to comb out the silky, coal black tresses.  This seemed to calm the young
elf, who looked sleepy again as he lay down.

"I suppose I will have to leave with my lord's people," Filigwî murmured.

"If that is your wish, you may do so, of course.  But I think it would be better
for you to continue your studies."

"But there is no one to pay my room and board, and I am not yet fifty…"

"Imladris takes its students on merit, not payment.  You certainly shall not be
cast out.  My father is responsible for you now."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Elrond glanced out the window of his study as shadows fell briefly across his
desk and then retreated, and watched with approval as the pair, deep in
conversation, continued toward the gardens of his much-lamented wife.  He was
glad that Elladan had taken an interest in the young elf.  Filigwî needed a
friend - as far as he could see, the elf was not close to any of the other
students, and his roommate, Saeladh, had completed his studies in May and
returned to Mirkwood.  Erestor and the apothecary had reported that the
youngster was distracted and Elrond had noted his absence at meals.

Moreover, he hoped that this friendship would help his son to heal old wounds. 
He worried about his sons' frequent journeys with the Dúnedain, about their
bitter wish for revenge on the orcs who had so wounded their mother.  The twins
had remained home longer than usual this time, and Elrond thought his son's
concern for this fragile young elf was the reason for this.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Filigwî saw his fiftieth begetting day come and go with little ceremony.  He had
received a few gifts, but it was a melancholy affair.  In place of his parents,
Master Elrond formally recognized his majority, and his family's absence on such
an important day stung - he went to bed early and woke the next day with his
pillow damp with tears.

The summer meant a lighter study load, though he spent more time assisting
Saer-diuw.  The warm weather kept the healers busy with broken limbs and
near-drownings.  The orcs hated the long hours of sun, but made the most of the
short nights, sending warriors both mortal and elven to Imladris' halls of
healing.  Filigwî learned how to make antidotes to orc poisons and poultices to
heal fractures and bruises.

Still, he had much time on his hands for brooding, and he welcomed Lord
Elladan's invitations to walk in the garden or share a picnic with the twins. 
He found himself looking forward to his days off and was disappointed when the
peredhel did not seek him out on those days.  He was most comfortable with
solitude, and it surprised him that he now preferred Lord Elladan's company to
being alone.  He loved the faint scent of cloves from the scented oil the
peredhel wore and felt a tingle in his hand when their fingers accidentally
brushed one another.

Late one morning, they rode out to the Bruinen with Elrohir, seeking relief from
the searing heat of recent days.  The spray of the wild river, swollen with
run-off from the mountains, cooled them pleasantly as they ate dinner on the
banks.

"Here, try one of these sandwiches," Elladan said.  The elf had nibbled at some
of the fruit and cheese, leaving most of his plate untouched.

"I am not very hungry, I am afraid.  I had a large breakfast."

"Nonsense!  We cannot eat all of this, and the cook will be insulted if we bring
back half the food.  You do not want to get me in trouble, Fileg?" he teased.

Filigwî knew the peredhel was trying to feed him.  Everyone seemed concerned
with his lack of appetite, but he could not help it - food tasted like ashes
these days.  Still, to please Elladan, he ate the sandwich.  This seemed to
amuse Elrohir, though he could not fathom why.

After the meal, they stripped down to their vests and went swimming in a pool
protected by rocks from the rushing Bruinen.  The elf laughed to see the twins
behaving as children in the water, splashing and dunking one another, bickering
good-naturedly as they played.  The swim did not last long, however - the icy
water soon forced them out, and they lay in the hot afternoon sun, waiting for
their clothes to dry.

Elladan was the first to fall into light dreamscapes.  Filigwî watched the
peredhel, wondering of what he dreamt.  He was tall, with the strength of men
and the beauty of the elves.  His hair coiled like silken rope behind his head,
the indigo-black plaits tangling as they dried with locks left unbraided.  He
drew the young elf's eyes to his broad, muscular chest and flat abdomen.  He had
the power of a horseman in his thighs, tight with intricately carved
musculature.  Shyly, the elf allowed himself to briefly glance at the peredhel's
groin.  He felt a response in his own body and looked hastily away, thankful
that the others were asleep.

They returned to the house just as the bell announcing the evening meal sounded,
and with oaths of dismay, the twins hurried up their quarters to change.

Elladan poked his head in Elrohir's bedchamber.  "Have you got clean robes I
might borrow?"  His own lay in a heap at the bottom of his wardrobe, rather than
in the basket for the chambermaid to collect.

Elrohir came out of his dressing room, dressed and ready but for his hair.  He
threw a set of robes at Elladan, who shrugged into them and began to braid his
brother's hair.  "One plait will have to do."

"I think you have an admirer," Elrohir said, as they switched places.  "Elladan,
how do you manage to get so tangled?"

Elladan was not sure whether his twin referred to his hair or his heart.  "He
*is* adorable, you have to admit.  Ai!"

Elrohir continued to comb out the snarls with little mercy.  "Quit yelping like
a child, Elladan."  He set the comb aside and began to braid his brother's hair. 
"Do not tell me these feelings are returned."

"And why not?"

Elrohir stopped and faced his brother, all mirth gone from his face.  "He is
hardly more than a child."

"But he is not a child."

"You are over 2,000 years his elder."

"Which is nothing to an elf."

Elrohir tied off his brother's braid and they walked quickly downstairs.  "Just
be careful with him," he warned as they entered the dining room.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Summer was drawing to a close, signaled by Anor's early retirement.  They had
fallen into the habit of walking together after the evening meal.  On this
night, the young elf fairly glowed in the twilight, and Elladan suddenly wanted
more privacy.  "Have you ever been to the falls?"  Filigwî shook his head and
they headed toward the path along the river.

It was a favorite place for young couples of Imladris.  Elladan could hear the
murmurs of lovers hidden in the woods along the path, and felt a stirring in his
loins.  Without warning, he turned to his quiet companion and kissed him, gently
and with far less ardor than he felt.  The elf stood woodenly still, then
responded with hungry lips, artless with inexperience but not lacking in
enthusiasm.  Abruptly, Filigwî broke the kiss.  Elladan saw a strange look pass
over his face before he fled, heedless of Elladan's voice calling after him.

With a weary sigh, Elladan returned to the house and went to his rooms, falling
into a chair in the sitting room he shared with Elrohir.  The latter looked up
from his book with a raised eyebrow.  "Your little bird?"

Elladan groaned.  "I kissed him and…"

"…he did not take it well.  What did you say to him?"

"Nothing!"

"So, without warning, this little elf finds himself the object of his lord's
desire.  What did you think would happen, brother?"

"I did not think…"

"That is clear," Elrohir broke in sharply.  "Oh, Elladan," he continued in a
more sympathetic tone, "he seems to be quite fond of you, but he is very young. 
You probably scared the wits out of him."  He leaned forward.  "Talk to him.  I
am sure he has no idea what to think, and he most likely feels he cannot refuse
you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Several days passed before Elladan saw the young elf again - he was sure that
Filigwî deliberately avoided him.  When he found the elf in the library late one
night, he waited by the door, determined to speak with him.  Filigwî left the
library at last.  Elladan stepped from the doorway and the elf hurried his
steps, hunched over the books he carried.

"Filigwî, stop.  Please stop."  Elladan reached out a hand to turn the elf's
shoulder.

Filigwî twitched anxiously under his grip, like a frightened rabbit.  "My lord?"

"Can we go somewhere private?"

Elladan saw a look of alarm pass over the elf's eyes and recalled Elrohir's
words.  Had he so badly misread the elf?  He had not thought his advances would
be so unwelcome, but the little elf, though he nodded and followed Elladan to a
little-used study room, literally shook with apprehension.

Elladan shut the door.  Filigwî stood, refusing to look at him, wringing his
hands in anxiety.

Elladan sat down several feet away from the elf, hoping the distance would help
calm him.  "Please do not look so frightened!  I am not going to molest you."

The elf's pale features flushed with color.

"I apologize if my actions the other night were untoward.  I would never impose
myself upon you - I hoped my feelings might be returned."  He ended the sentence
with a slight rise in tone, making it almost a question.

"Oh!" Filigwî breathed.  The elf glanced at him shyly, then looked down again,
his coal locks falling forward to cover his face.

Elladan walked over to the elf.  He pushed the curtain of hair aside.  Filigwî
flinched.  "Stay!  Hear me out - you are free to refuse me, but let me speak
first.

"You are very fair.  From the first time I saw you, I was drawn to you." 
Elladan fingered a silky tress.  "Very fair.  You were so unhappy, and I wanted
to give you a home in my heart and soothe away your misery, but I feared you
would not return my feelings.  But you have recently given me hope - can I hope
you might feel as I do?"

Filigwî was a maelstrom of emotions.  He remembered the feel of soft lips on his
own, how he had lain awake late that night with a yearning - for what, he did
not know.  His solitary ways had kept him innocent, even among the bawdy bards
of Lord Gildor's theatrical folk.

He could not deny that a certain pair of grey eyes and the memory of a kind
smile brought some relief from his sorrow.  Yet he was mistrustful - it seemed
unlikely that a lord of Elladan's stature might care for him.

His mother and father had not been the most doting parents, and much of the
young elf's anxiety and insecurity arose therein:  a baby left to cry a bit too
long, a child whose nighttime monsters went unvanquished by a soothing touch. 
Among mortals, such a child might have turned to mischief to attract his
parents' attention, but Filigwî, being of elvenkind, had only tried harder to
please.  A fear of abandonment niggled in the back of his mind, and now that his
fear had materialized, he could only conclude that what had seemed to be was
true:  his parents did not care at all.

And something had happened to his heart when the first shock of his family's
departure had worn off.  He had closed it tightly, fearing that, as unlovable as
he saw himself, anyone else allowed into his heart would leave him alone.

"Filigwî?"

The elf came out of his thoughts, realizing that Elladan wanted an answer.  "I -
I cannot return your sentiments, my lord."

Was it hurt that flittered across the peredhel's features?  "I do not believe
it.  It did not seem so in the garden the other night.  You did not respond to
my kiss without feeling."

"Please, my lord, do not press me!"  The elf moved swiftly away from Elladan,
anguished.

Elladan could not understand.  Why was Filigwî so frightened?  "I will leave you
alone, then, if that is your wish."

He went upstairs and began throwing clothes into his pack.

"Elladan?"  His brother entered without knocking and sat down, watching his
twin.  "It did not go well."

"No," the older twin answered shortly.  "I am leaving for a while.  Will you
come?"

Elrohir sighed.  He had no choice - in his present state of mind, he could not
allow his brother to ride out alone.  Elrohir remembered how his brother's
recklessness after their mother's departure had verged on the suicidal.  He
would need someone to watch out for him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Left alone in the little study room, Filigwî sank into the chair Elladan had so
recently occupied.  It smelt faintly of cloves.  He pulled his legs to his
chest, resting his forehead on his knees.  He felt heartsick and more alone than
ever.  His chest burned with the effort to breathe, his eyes stung with unshed
tears.

He awoke in the morning to a gentle touch to his shoulder.  "Filigwî!  Awake,
child."

He blinked in the bright sunlight.  Stiff from his unnatural position, he looked
owlishly at Saer-duiw.

"We have been looking for you everywhere!  The twins were to have left to patrol
the mountains this morning, but instead they have been searching the grounds for
you."  He patted his apprentice's shoulder.  "Gather your wits and wash up.  I
will tell Glorfindel that he can call off the search."

So, Elladan was leaving.  Filigwî told himself that he had made the right
decision.  Yet the plain light of day refused to hide the lie.


~~~~~~~~~~Fears (Chapter 3/4)~~~~~~~~~~

The early morning sky was still dark over the Misty Mountains, though a pink
glow formed a thin line in the east.  The men, taciturn by nature, paused to
warm hands and mugs of tea over low-burning fires as they packed up camp.

Elrohir sniffed the air.  "It will snow tonight."

Elladan looked up and agreed.  "Winter is coming, that is certain."

"The Dúnedain are anxious to return home."

"It never fails - the weather turns cold and they suddenly remember that they
have wives."  The brothers shared a laugh.

"In any event, we do not want to be caught on the wrong side of the pass,"
Elrohir said, sobering.

"You think we should start back today."  Elladan threw his back over his horse's
back.

"You will have to face him sooner or later."  Elrohir put a hand on his
brother's shoulder.

"It is not him I dread."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

No, the fair little bird had not chased him into the wild.  They reached
Imladris late after a grueling journey of four days, pushing their horses as
much as they dared.  Elladan discarded his clothes and sank into his bath,
blessing the chambermaid who had filled it at this late hour.

Physically exhausted, his mind assaulted him with images and thoughts tumbling
one over another.  He would not find relief in his dreams tonight, and when he
got out of the bath, he set aside his nightshirt and put on fresh leggings and
vest.  In his bedchamber, he opened the curtains and stared into the starless
night.  Heavy clouds hung over the valley, their deceptive light promising snow. 
As he let the curtains fall back, he saw the window's reflection of the
candlelit room.

He was not alone.

He whirled to face Filigwî, who sat absolutely still in the corner of the room. 
The elf wore velvet robes of winter, yet the heavy fabric could not disguise
thin shoulders and bony elbows.  Elladan's heart melted at the hollow, beautiful
face raised to look at him.  He had gone abroad to forget this little elf, to
honor Filigwî's wish to be let alone.  As if the Valar had designed to torture
him, that elf now sat so temptingly near in his bedchamber.

"My lord, I..."  The words died on Filigwî's lips.  Solemn grey eyes pleaded for
Elladan to understood what he was afraid to say, to make things right between
them.

The peredhel knelt before the elf and held the thin face in his hands.  "My fair
little bird.  What have you done to yourself?"  He marked the shadows under eyes
filled with sorrow and kissed the pale lips reverently.

"I am sorry...you frightened me.  You still frighten me."

"Shhh," Elladan said, holding a finger to the elf's lips.  He claimed them
again, this time with passion.  As they parted, breathless, Elladan felt a surge
of emotion at the flush that crept into the elf's cheeks.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Filigwî stiffened.  "I - my lord, I - this is too much."  His eyes darted to the
door in panic.

"No, you misunderstand me.  I meant…nothing like that.  I only want to have you
near me."  Elladan squeezed the elf's arm reassuringly.  "And I would really
prefer that you use my name."

Filigwî smiled.  "Elladan."  He lifted a tentative hand, running it over the
peredhel's hair, loose and still damp from the bath.  "I will stay, then."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After that first night, they had decided that it would be easier for Elladan to
explain his presence on the student floor than for Filigwî to explain how he
came to be in the family's quarters, and so they shared the elf's bed.

They kissed more than they talked. Filigwî guarded his thoughts like a miser,
dispensing them only at great need.  It frustrated Elladan that in their most
intimate moments, he sensed a barrier in the elf;  something Filigwî held back. 
Yet, he understood the need for patience, and such need came of more than
Filigwî's inexperience.

The elf did not entirely trust Elladan.  Filigwî wondered if this newfound love
would dissolve like dream-sleep, leaving him in an empty bed, cold and alone. 
Despite his fears, he found sustenance in Elladan's protective embrace.  He knew
that Elladan wished he would give more of himself, yet already it frightened him
to depend so much on the peredhel's gentle strength.

It was easier to let his body speak for him.  Elladan's kisses and careful touch
moved him to a breathless crest, only to fall back, so that he looked up
longingly, wanting to know how it might feel to ride the wave to its end. 
Aching need assailed him when hands failed to finish what they had started.  The
feel of his lover's hard physique, the lust and love mingled in those gentle
grey eyes, overcame the elf's modesty and he responded eagerly when Elladan at
last moved to bring him over that agonizing peak.

It seemed unbearably hot in the room that night, despite the late winter chill. 
Elladan coaxed the young elf to whimpering need, taking sensitive ear tips
between his lips while his hand roamed between the elf's slender thighs,
maddeningly near but never touching his stiff member.  The elf shivered and bit
back cries of frustration as Elladan slowly worked his way down, leaving
evidence of their passion in purple bruise.

Filigwî groaned as Elladan's lips teased his erection and abandoned it for areas
south.  Raven braids whispered about the weeping organ as the peredhel's tongue
traced tense inner thighs.  Elladan looked back at the elf's fevered face and
grinned wickedly.  Innocent or not, the elf had come to such a state that if
Elladan did not soon relieve him, he would take matters into his own hands.  He
saved the elf the trouble, at last closing his mouth around the very center of
desire.

The elf gasped at this new sensation, but soon began to move his hips in
response to Elladan's ministrations.  The length of the peredhel's teasing
foreplay, his own inexperience and the intense pleasure of a warm, wet mouth did
not allow the elf to last very long.  He came with a cry that must have woken
half the students on the floor.

In the afterglow he lay stunned, his eyes closed, breathing in ragged gasps. 
Elladan kissed him and stroked the sweat-dampened hair from his brow.

Filigwî opened his eyes and saw the worry in the beautiful face inches from his
own.  "I do not think I could have taken any more of your tortures," he
remonstrated, tapping the peredhel lightly on the cheek.  He felt his lover's
hardness against his leg and sat up.  "Can I?" he asked uncertainly.  The young
elf was not sure what he was doing and relied on Elladan's quiet moans to guide
him as he returned the favor.

Their trysts brought an unexpected sort of pleasure to the peredhel - he had
never before taken an inexperienced lover.  He knew that men regarded such
opportunities as conquests, but he found only delight in the young elf's
discovery of his body.  Such arts of intimacy were altogether new to Filigwî,
and Elladan felt almost as if he, too, came to know the ways of giving and
receiving pleasure for the first time.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The valley awoke with the heady scent and beauty of lilies and cherry blossoms,
and Imladris turned out in finery and high spirits for the twins' shared
begetting day.  After an elf's first century, the passage of years was no longer
remarkable, and many an elf was hard-pressed to state his age unless he
calculated it from the year of his birth.  Nonetheless, elves needed little
excuse for merrymaking, and under the Shadow, happy occasions came all too
seldom.

As in years past, elves having business at Imladris had taken advantage of the
warming weather to travel from other lands.  Several of the Dúnedain mingled
with the guests, and Filigwî marveled at the change in these grizzled men; 
seeing them in their formal attire, he could imagine the noble kings of old.  He
watched the fête from a distance, sitting on the stone steps that led to the
gardens above the lawn.  The number of unfamiliar people made him nervous.

As evening fell, he found Elladan and made his excuses.  "Will I see you later?"

"My begetting day would not be complete if I were to pass the night in a cold,
lonely bed," Elladan promised.  He watched the small elf until he disappeared in
the shadows of the house.  Something in Filigwî's mood made him uneasy.  Weary
of the party, he sought his brother, no small task, for it seemed that every
time he had a moment to speak to Elrohir, they were swept into the dancing or
assailed by maidens wanting their attention.  At last, his twin managed to
whisper in his ear as they passed in a reel.  "Go and see your little bird," he
laughed.  "I will cover for your absence."

He found Filigwî in the tiny receiving room of his student lodgings.  The
determined set of the elf's jaw contrasted sharply with the twin pools of fear
that met his eyes.  Elladan approached his lover warily, but to his surprise,
Filigwî rose and kissed him without reservation.  "It seemed like you would
never get away!"

"It seemed that way to me, too," he said, returning the kiss hungrily.

The elf looked up at him shyly.  "I have not yet given you your present." 
Before the peredhel could respond, Filigwî rushed to finish his sentence.  "Be
with me tonight."

"Of course, I will stay."

"No, I mean, *be* with me.  I want you…to have me.

Elladan shifted uncomfortably.  He sat down, pulling the elf down to straddle
his lap so that they faced one another.  He took the youngster's hands.  "Do not
think that I do not want this.  I have wanted you so long I can hardly stand
it."  Something about the young elf's offer felt vaguely whorish, and it made
him uneasy.  All the trust he had struggled to build between them would come to
nothing if he took him before he was ready.

"But…"  The young elf looked at him with hurt in his eyes.

Elladan felt a pang of guilt.  "Ai, Fileg, you know I can refuse you nothing,"
he soothed, kissing the elf's forehead.  "But I need to know that this is what
you want, that you are not…that you desire this as much as I do."

Without a word, Filigwî kissed him again, drawing his tongue into his mouth with
a fierceness almost painful.  Elladan moaned, his last noble thoughts
scattering.  After that kiss, he could not have resisted the elf with all the
help of the Valar.  Divesting him of his robes and cassock, he maneuvered
Filigwî to the bedchamber.  His mouth found that hollow just in front of the
pulse in his lover's neck, that spot that he knew from experience would reduce
the elf to almost bestial, mindless desire.  Writhing helplessly, Filigwî had
his own revenge, as this movement brought his hips to rub against Elladan's
increasingly tight breeches.  The peredhel dispensed with his own robes and
lifted the elf's vest from his shoulders.  Pushing Filigwî down to lie on the
bed, he fastened his mouth to a nipple.  The elf gasped, his breath coming in
little whines, and wound his hands in Elladan's hair, holding his mouth against
that sensitive flesh.

With a groan, Elladan shook off the elf's hands and removed his breeches,
breathing a sigh of relief as he released his swollen organ.  He made short work
of their remaining clothing and knelt over the elf, straddling his head.  "Take
me in your mouth," he said urgently.  The young elf had become quite adept at
pleasing Elladan in this manner, but on this night, the peredhel wanted no long,
teasing artfulness of tongue.  He thrust deeply into the elf's mouth, spending
his passion almost methodically.  He knew that if he did not relieve the
built-up tension, he would never last long enough to give Filigwî the pleasure
he deserved.

His own need temporarily abated, he poured himself over his lover, nipping and
kissing from the points of his ears to thighs shamelessly spread and tense with
anticipation.  All the while, he stroked the elf's erection with feather-light
fingertips.

Filigwî tossed his head, nearly maddened by the peredhel's long, slow seduction. 
His half-articulate pleadings met only a teasing smile.  Elladan was enjoying
this.

At length, Elladan stopped and slipped off the bed without a word of
explanation.  Frustrated, the young elf flung a curse in his direction.

Elladan laughed.  "My, if the rest of Imladris could see the shy little bird
now."  He returned to the bed and knelt beside the elf, the mirth gone from his
face.  "You are sure?"

Filigwî nodded.  Bonelessly, he let the peredhel spread his legs wider.  An oily
scent mingled with the musky odors of the room and he drew in a shaky breath as
Elladan's finger probed at his nether regions.

With patient determination, Elladan coaxed the elf into relaxing enough to allow
entry.  Still, he winced inwardly at the tightness, even as his cock hardened in
anticipation.  The elf made a small sound as Elladan probed his hole, but seemed
at last to grow used to the invasion.  Elladan tried another finger.  Filigwî
hissed in pain.  "I am sorry, Fileg."

"It is okay.  I want this," the young elf answered firmly.

Elladan curved his fingers slightly, seeking that little gland that gave such
pleasure, and was rewarded with a long moan of pure pleasure.

Elladan's hardness now asserted itself.  He needed to be inside the elf, inside
that hot tunnel.  He withdrew his fingers and positioned his sex at the elf's
opening.  A look of apprehension wrinkled the young elf's brow;  if the
peredhel's mannish heritage had given him broader shoulders and a more muscular
frame, it had also left him particularly well-endowed, a gift that seemed almost
inconvenient as he pushed at the elf's virgin hole.

At penetration, Filigwî arched underneath him, tightening around Elladan as his
body fought to repel the source of the searing pain.  Elladan groaned.  He could
not have pulled out if he had to;  he could not move without risking real injury
to the young elf.  In any case, that throb between his legs had to be satisfied. 
He stroked the elf's cheek.  "Relax.  It will hurt less."

Filigwî had his eyes closed, panting as the pain failed to abate.  Consciously,
he willed the tension to seep out of his lower body.  The peredhel moved inside
him again, and he could not suppress a little whine as friction met torn flesh. 
Elladan altered his position slightly and the bulk of his member pressed so
firmly upon his prostate that Filigwî thought his heart would stop.  He arched
again, this time with pleasure.

Elladan choked back his groans of pleasure - he did not dare make too much noise
and alert the whole house to their activities.  He need not have bothered,
however, for his lover had clearly passed beyond such rational thought.  Filigwî
moaned and thrust his hips in a manner as thoroughly wanton as that of an
experienced whore.  Elladan's thrusts grew more insistent, rougher and deeper,
encouraged by the slender elf's cries.  Valar, he was tight!

Overwhelmed by pain and pleasure, Filigwî could not maintain his defenses.  The
elf convulsed rhythmically around Elladan's member, and for a moment, the
peredhel felt the barrier slip.  He pursued that small opening in his lover's
soul and, for just that moment, had a glimpse into the lonely, anxious young
elf's heart.  Elladan came with a long cry, his hips moving of their own accord
in short, powerful thrusts as his organ swelled and released its seed.

He collapsed exhausted on top of the elf, shaking from the intensity of what
they had just shared.  Dimly, he realized that Filigwî was sobbing.  He lifted
his head and stroked damp hair.  "Are you all right, Fileg?"

Elladan felt an answering throb around his softening member.  The elf could not
speak, could not make words out of the jumble of physical and emotional
sensations.  Elladan at last disengaged himself from their embrace and saw to
his surprise that the candle had nearly burned itself out.  He got up, returning
with a wet towel to clean up the messy results of their coupling.

Filigwî was nearly asleep.  "Come, let us get you under the covers."  The thin
frame had cooled quickly under the sheen of sweat, and the young elf had begun
to shiver slightly.  Elladan could barely rouse the elf enough to get him into
bed.  Filigwî's eyes glazed almost immediately in elven sleep.  Elladan felt a
heavy weariness, but his mind needed to sort through the events of the night
before he could relax and find his own dreams.  He understood the elf's tears,
recognized them for the rare gift that they were:  a single instance of feeling
absolutely loved, of complete trust in the peredhel.

They woke late the following morning, but there was nothing to call them early
from bed;  Imladris lay in various stages of recovery from the previous day's
revelry.  Filigwî moved stiffly, undoubtedly sore, but Elladan sensed something
else in the elf's rigid posture.  The elf had pulled inside himself, as distant
as ever, and Elladan guessed that Filigwî would not be so free with his emotions
the next time they made love.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The brothers rode along in silence, enjoying the crisp spring morning and the
delight of newborn creatures discovering the world under the watchful eye of dam
and sire.  Elladan's involvement with Filigwî had left him little time for his
twin.  He knew Elrohir understood, but he had missed his brother and he knew
Elrohir felt the same.

They stopped to watch a herd of deer, grazing without worry in the woods of
Imladris - they knew the elves would protect them through the fawning season. 
"Are you all right, brother?"

Elladan looked sideways at his twin.  "Why do you ask?"

Elrohir laughed.  "There is no point in evading me, Elladan.  If you cut your
finger, mine would throb."

Elladan shook his head.  "I am just…tired."

"Just what *are* you doing with that little elf, Elladan?  From the looks of
you, you've been too much in lust to sleep."

"I know, and I cannot explain it."

"Perhaps you should consult Adar about it."

"Brilliant, Elrohir.  At what point should I mention that I am bedding one of
the students?"

"A student hardly out of swaddling, at that."

Elladan threw his twin a dark look.  "Do not help me, Elrohir."

"Why bring Filigwî into it at all?  Unless you think he has something to do with
it."

"That is just it - I think he does."


~~~~~~~~~~Wanting What We Have (Chapter 4/4)~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Elrohir makes a somewhat cryptic remark early in the chapter.  I
have in mind a sequel that will explain it, if my muses will cooperate.

The house of Elrond was silent when Filigwî awoke.  Frustrated, he turned over
in Elladan's arms.  For nights it had been so - uneasy dreams left him in the
night and no rest would find him until the first pale light of day crept through
the curtains.  He was exhausted.  His body willed sleep, but his mind raced with
worries.  Research work for Lord Erestor loomed ahead and he fretted over his
lack of progress;  he would have exams soon that would determine if he was
suited to continue in his path of study.  Night after night, he swore to work
harder.  Yet evening would find him too tired to concentrate;  for all the hours
he spent in the library, he could barely complete the daily exercises assigned
by Lord Erestor.

If his mind did not teem with thoughts of his studies, it supplied a stream of
images from his childhood - each hurt, each moment of awkwardness.  He cringed
with shame and felt an ache in his chest, a hollowness inside that grew more
cavernous as the night passed.  He agonized over things he had said or not said
to Elladan, considered his lover's words and saw hidden meaning - seemingly
innocuous statements now seemed laden with criticism and discontent.

He had no idea how long he had lain dreamless, but at last, Elladan stirred. 
Filigwî feigned sleep as his lover kissed the top of his head and returned to
his own rooms.  He slept at last - until the breakfast bell jarred him into the
new day.

He would be late again for Lord Erestor's lecture.  As he scrambled to wash and
dress, he realized with horror that he had forgotten to finish the reading for
today's lesson.  Things seemed to be slipping away from him lately.  He had
never been so irresponsible about his studies.

His lack of preparation moved Lord Erestor to assign extra work, and he somehow
dragged himself through the evening and into the night, burning his candle long
after others had retired.  On soundless elven feet, he got ready for bed and
tried not to disturb Elladan as he crept beneath the covers.

"I wish you had told me you would be so late."

"I did."  No, he had not, he realized.  "I am sorry.  I meant to, and I forgot."

"It is no matter," Elladan said, nuzzling his neck.  "But I must be up early
tomorrow.  Glorfindel wants to do a thorough patrol of the area before
Midsummer."  The re-housed elf never forgot the tragic events of the last
Midsummer of his former life.

Midsummer.  The word lanced through Filigwî's heart.  He had tried not to think
of it as an anniversary of sorts, but his emotions refused to heed his mind.

"Are you listening to me at all, Fileg?"

"You are going on patrol."

"Yes.  I will be gone for several weeks - I am sorry, but there is nothing for
it."  Elladan was silent.  "What is wrong?  You are distracted."

"I am just tired.  It was a long day."

"I do not mean tonight.  You have been this way for days now."

Filigwî rolled over.  Rarely did he initiate contact between them, but tonight
he pulled the peredhel into a kiss so persuasive that Elladan gave up any effort
to talk - which was what the elf intended.

Afterward, Elladan lay awake, aware that his lover did not sleep, either.  There
had been a desperation about their lovemaking tonight - for some nights,
actually - that disturbed him.  Something was bothering the elf.  More than
ever, he felt the drain on his own energy.  He had only himself to blame - he
had wanted to believe in the elf's well-being, to believe that the hurts had
begun to heal, when in fact they festered, fed by Filigwî's refusal to face
them.  The nature of love between two elves in love made it possible for one to
strengthen the other, and Elladan had given his strength willingly.  He did not
know, however, how much longer he could continue to do so without asking for
something in return.  He knew that Filigwî loved him, but it was love with
reservation.  Elladan wanted more - he wanted his trust.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Elrohir left his vantage point near a cave sometimes used by orcs.  Keeping low
to the ground, he slid down the hill to join his brother, who had been watching
his back.  As he reached the foot of the hill, he heard Elladan let out an oath. 
"What?" Elrohir asked tensely.

"I am such a fool.  Midsummer.  I should have known."

Only his twin could have interpreted this.  "You are worried about your little
bird."

Elladan nodded.  "I know this is my duty.  But that does not leave me any less
torn."  They heard a distant signal, calling the warriors to regroup, and they
angled their path in the direction of the signal.

"Orcs have returned to the caves on the north side of Nífdalu," Glorfindel
announced when all the scouting pairs had reached the meeting point.  "I have
sent for reinforcements.  Elladan and Elrohir will await the arriving forces. 
The rest of us will continue to scout the area."

Afterward, he spoke to the twins privately.  "I do not think the orcs are
hostile."

Elladan let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You know what I mean," Glorfindel said with a wry grin.  "I do not think they
intend to storm Imladris.  I doubt they number more than fifty troops. 
Nonetheless, be careful - make sure you know what you are facing before you
attack, and for Elbereth's sake, call for more warriors if you need them."  The
ancient elf gave the peredhil a severe look, knowing that they sometimes allowed
their bitterness to override common sense.

The process of finding and flushing out the orcs proved tedious and difficult,
requiring not so much caution as patience, and Elladan grew more anxious as
three weeks turned into four and then five.

On edge, he found himself berating a warrior for his part in a failed attempt to
capture the orc captain.  When he had finished venting his frustration, Elrohir
grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out of the hearing of camp.

"That was not necessary," Elrohir said, inclining his head in the direction of
the hapless elf.  Elladan shook off his brother's grip.  "You need to get hold
of your temper, Elladan."

The older twin slumped to sit against a tree.  "You are right.  But every
failure delays our return longer."

"I know you are worried, but that is not Ecthelloss' fault.  He is a good
swordsman."  He sat down in front of his brother.  "*You* are the liability in
this company."

Elladan's eyes flashed.  "The liability?"

"You are trying to be two places at once.  Let someone else take over and go
home."

"I am a lord of Imladris.  Its welfare is more important than any one elf."

"Then act like one."  Elrohir got up.  "You need to sort this out, Elladan."

Elladan let his head fall back against the tree.  His brother's words had more
wisdom than Elrohir knew.  Yes, he was worried.  However, for the first time, he
realized that he was also angry - and not with the demands of his position or
with his brother.  He was angry with Filigwî, and he supposed that underneath it
all, he refused to abdicate his responsibilities because he did not feel he
should have to make a choice.  At the same time, he felt physically stronger the
more time he spent away from the young elf.  If Filigwî was drawing on his
strength, then what was happening now that he was gone?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Six weeks had now passed since Glorfindel's scouting party had left;  Midsummer
had come and gone while the elves secured the mountains above Imladris.  "It
should never have got that bad," Elladan said, as they picked their way down
steep trails.

Elrohir rolled his eyes.  "Would you stop berating yourself?"  Elladan was right
- they had been lax in their duties.  The battle at Parth Celebrant had greatly
reduced the orc population, and their frequent patrols in the ensuing decades
had kept the western vales and High Pass clear.  But Elladan's distraction these
past months had been understandable, and Elrohir had been reluctant to remind
his twin of their duties.  His brother had suffered enough over their mother's
capture.  Both twins had felt guilty, but Elrohir had found a way to transform
that guilt into something more bearable.  Elladan had not.

"He needs to understand that I have other responsibilities."

Elrohir already knew what Elladan would say next.  His twin's inner turmoil had
begun to wear on his nerves.  "And yet you have yourself tied in knots worrying
about him."

Elladan grimaced.  "Am I that predictable?"

"You are becoming a little repetitive, yes," Elrohir said with a short laugh. 
They continued in silence for a while.  "I do not think he knows what he is
doing to you.  I think he is hurting so much that he does not have the capacity
to feel anyone else's pain."

"And I love him, and no matter how frustrated I feel, my heart tells me that he
needs me more than ever."

"Sometimes love is best served by truth."  Elrohir's voice took on a strange,
distant tone.  "Even when it hurts."

Elladan glanced at his twin, puzzled by his manner.  "You speak as if you know."

Elrohir shook his head violently.  "It is a trifle, nothing more.  But he cannot
go on indefinitely, hiding from his feelings, and you may be the only one who
can force him to confront them."

"I know that.  I am just afraid that it will push him beyond what he can bear."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The elf greeted him with hungry kisses that nearly drove all thought from
Elladan save the eager signals from his groin.  With difficulty, he grasped
Filigwî's forearms and forced him to take a step back.  Filigwî looked at him in
confusion and hurt.  Elladan bit his lip, at war with himself over what he
needed to do and what the elf so desperately needed from him.  His lover had not
borne his absence well;  he had lost weight and color.  He looked like a lost
child.

"We need to talk."  The elf's face registered alarm;  Elladan could feel eyes
watching him warily as he paced nervously in the small space of Filigwî's
bedchamber.  "I have had some time to think, about you, and us and what we are
to one another."

Perhaps if he had noticed that the elf's eyes had dimmed, if he had realized
that the elf had retreated into his protective shell…perhaps if he had realized
that the elf heard only his last words…perhaps it might have turned out
differently.

After he had finished, he dared to look at his lover.  Filigwî was very still -
and as closed to him as ever.  "Have you heard anything I have said?"  Elladan
could not keep the exasperation from his voice.

"I - I will think on it," Filigwî managed, in a shaky voice.  He did not dare
meet the peredhel's eyes, but he sensed it was the wrong response.  He licked
his lips nervously.  It did not matter, did it?  He had felt for some weeks his
lover's growing distance, had expected this break even longer.

"Is it - is it all right if I stay tonight?"

The elf shook his head wordlessly.

Elladan took a step toward him.  "Filigwî…"

The elf looked up, felt his rigid control slipping.  "Go."  He looked away,
heard the door latch catch, and knew he was alone.

'I cannot continue on like this.'  The final words of Elladan's long speech rang
in his ears.  Suddenly too weak to stand, Filigwî sank to his knees.  He leaned
his forehead against the bed as sobs welled up to shake his thin frame.

Filigwî had the next day to himself, and Elladan was not surprised that the elf
failed to appear at breakfast - he was a late riser when given the chance.  Yet
he did not see him at dinner or the evening meal, and upon inquiry, he learned
that no one had seen the young elf all day, nor did he answer when Elladan
knocked at his door.  Deeply concerned, he let himself into the rooms.

He found the elf sitting cross-legged on the floor of his dressing room, his
hair loose around him like a shroud, as if he had dressed with the intent of
leaving the rooms and lost his way somewhere between washing up and braiding his
hair.

"I feel like I have never known you at all."  He looked at Elladan through eyes
like holes.

Elladan sat down behind him and wrapped his arms around the elf.

"No!"  Filigwî tried to shake himself free.

Elladan kept his arms around the struggling elf.  "Fileg, I am sorry.  I did not
want to leave you alone for so long."

"No one *meant* to leave me alone," Filigwî snapped.

Elladan kissed the top of his head, rocking the elf gently.  He felt the bony
shoulders shaking.

With a keening cry, the elf slumped forward in Elladan's arms.  "It hurts."

Elladan felt helpless.  He could only hold his lover and wait for the storm to
pass - he seemed to bring no comfort tonight.

At length, the elf grew quiet and still.  Passively, he let Elladan undress him
and put on a nightshirt.  He allowed him to lead him to bed.

"Will you be all right if I go to get something to help you sleep?"

Filigwî gave no answer.  Elladan sighed - he could do no good here.

It was time to come clean with his father.

He was in luck - Elrond was still awake, working on correspondence in his
library.  He looked up as his son knocked lightly on the partly closed door. 
"Elladan.  You keep late hours."

"I was about to remark on the same, Adar."

The elder peredhel carefully wiped his quill and set it down.  "You are
troubled."

"You are worse than Elrohir.  Am I that ingenuous or are the two of you just
perceptive?"

Elrond smiled.  "A little of both, I think.  Your brother has always been more
cagey."  He carefully blotted his unfinished letter and set it aside.  "And you
are avoiding the question."

Where to begin?  There had been a time when he believed that one day he would no
longer need his parents' guidance.  He had long since realized his folly. 
Moreover, his father's approval still mattered to him.  "I have made a mess of
things, Adar."  He looked at his father plaintively.  "It is about Filigwî…we
have been involved."

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  "Involved?"

"We have been lovers.  Not until this spring," he added hastily.

"Elladan, this is totally inappropriate.  It will appear that you are using your
position to your advantage."  Elrond frowned - if his son's confession did not
surprise him, it did not please him, either.

"I know that.  I did not set out to seduce him, Adar."  But that was not really
true, was it?  He had seen the elf, he had wanted him and he had had him.  Only
now did he realize that, even if Filigwî was by law an adult, he was still, in
many ways, a child.

"It would be an ugly situation in any case, but Elladan, I am responsible for
him."

"Then *help* him!"  He looked down.  "Because I cannot.  I have tried to draw
him out, but he only grows more distant.  And then last night -"

Elrond remained silent, waiting for his son to go on.

"Last night I tried to speak with him.  I tried to make him see that as long as
he kept all this pain inside, it would be a wall between us."  He looked up at
the ceiling, tears glinting in his eyes.

"Elladan," his father said gently, "he has suffered for a long time, and if
blame must be assigned, then perhaps it lies equally with me.  I should have
paid more mind to him."

'I should have known,' Elladan chastised himself, recalling Elrohir's words.  He
should not have left the elf alone at such a difficult time.  He should have… .

"Do not torture yourself.  Your only mistake lies in your timing.  You have
given a great deal to him.  Perhaps more than you should."

The peredhel looked sharply at his father.  How much had his father known, and
for how long?

"Your strength can only carry him so far.  He must find the strength within
himself to overcome his fears."

"And if he does not?"

Elrond did not answer.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In retrospect, it was apparent to Elrond that the young elf had been grieving
since he set foot at Imladris.  With a sigh, he poured wine into two glasses and
tried to keep his expression neutral in the face of the noxious smoke filling
his library.

"Perhaps even before," Mithrandir suggested, taking the wine.  He had journeyed
from time to time with Lord Gildor's people and had known Filigwî since the elf
was but a babe. 

"I should never have agreed to take him as a student.  If I had told his parents
to wait a year - "

"The same thing might have happened.  In any event, we cannot change the past. 
It is the here and now we must manage as best we can."

Elrond frowned.  "And if we cannot manage it?  The child grows weaker each day. 
Elladan suffers for him - I do not know if I worry more for his heart or his
health.  Now Elrohir is showing effects."  He felt a bolt of anger toward this
waif, with his irresponsible and selfish parents, who threatened what remained
of Elrond's family.

"Now, Elrond, it is not the little one's fault," Mithrandir chided.

"I know it, but what am I to do?  I cannot imagine what possessed the child's
parents to leave without warning or even notice of their going," Elrond said. 
In his mind, he saw his own mother fleeing with the Silmaril, leaving her
children to the whim of her pursuers.  The hurt still lingered, and despite the
very different circumstances of the present situation, Elrond could understand
the young elf's pain.  "Every instinct as a healer tells me to send him west
before it is too late."

"But..."

"I do not know how Elladan will handle it.  His mother, now his lover...he may
well follow Filigwî.  And if he leaves, Elrohir is certain to go."

"You ask for my council, but your mind is already made up.  You know what you
have to do," the wizard said, drawing on his pipe.

"That does not make it easier," Elrond answered, with a pointed look at the
offensive pipe, but Mithrandir understood that Elrond referred not to Longbottom
Leaf but to the unhappy task before him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Elladan sat next to the bed with his head resting on the pillow next to his
lover's, his strong hand wrapped around a skeletal one.  Elrond saw that even
now, his son was giving as much of himself as he could spare to his lover - even
now, when no hope remained.

"Elladan," he said quietly.  "I need to speak with Filigwî alone."

Elladan sat up, the toll of his efforts to save his lover apparent in the
shadows under his eyes.  He kissed the young elf on the forehead and left
without a word.

"Filigwî?"

The elf blinked and turned his head.  Wasted and drawn, with eyes enormous and
ringed with reddish shadows, it had once been a beautiful face.  Elrond felt
pity for the young elf, who had not lived enough to throw life away so
carelessly.  He smoothed a lock of coal-black hair back from the child's face. 
Filigwî's cheek was cold to the touch.  Elrond began to wonder if it might not
be too late already.

"It is time to think about going to the Havens."

Filigwî closed his eyes tightly.  He had tried, had heard Elladan beg and plead,
had let his lover feed him and had swallowed sleeping draughts obediently, but
he had only grown weaker.  He could not remember the last time he had kept
anything down or found rest in his dreams.  "When?" he asked dully, his eyes
still shut.

"Soon.  It will take a few days to make the arrangements."

Elrond knew that the worst of his task remained before him.  He found his sons
curled up together on Elrohir's bed.  He could not help but smile, recalling how
Celebrian had compared them to cats huddled together for warmth and comfort.  He
was sorry to wake them.

Elladan, his nerves on edge, sat up immediately when his father touched his
shoulder.  "What is wrong?"

"I have spoken to Filigwî.  I think we must send him west, lest he fade beyond
all recovery."

Elrohir reached for his brother in sympathy, but Elladan shook off his hand and
slipped off the bed.  Hands laced behind his head, he paced, looking up at the
ceiling with unshed tears in his eyes.  "I thought...I knew he was fading, Adar,
when first we...were intimate.  But I hoped he would - why is my love not
enough?"  He came to the door and stood still, his back to the room.

Elrond looked sadly at his son.  "You ask me, of all people, this question?"

Elladan whirled to face his father, hand to his mouth.  "I am sorry, Adar, I was
not thinking."  He slumped against the wall.  "When?" he repeated Filigwî's
question.

"Sooner rather than later, I think.  I fear we may have waited too long
already."  Unable to offer words of comfort, Elrond left his sons alone.  Though
it tore at his heart, he restrained himself from asking whether Elladan - and
possibly Elrohir - would also go west.  Mithrandir had wisely warned him against
influencing their decision.  To remain at their father's behest would only lead
to resentment, and Elrond knew that the gaping wounds left by Celebrian's
departure remained just under the surface, ready to bring down the façade of
normal family life at the slightest provocation.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Will you go with him?"

Elladan stared at the floor.  "I do not know.  I need time to think."

Elrohir got up and stood before his brother.  "If you leave, then I go, too."

Their father would be left alone, and Elladan knew that Elrond could not follow
his family west.  Even if the ancient peredhel had not sworn to see the end of
what his King had started, there was the matter of Vilya.  There remained few
elves in Middle-earth with the power to protect the Three, and fewer still who
would accept such a burden.  For better or worse, Elrond could not abandon his
trust.

"Do not be hasty, brother.  I am not certain yet that I will go with him."

Elrohir looked at him sadly.  "I know you too well, Elladan.  You nearly broke
when Naneth left.  You could not go through that again."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Elladan returned to his lover's bedchamber with eyes red-rimmed and swollen. 
"Have you even thought about what you are about to do?  The demons that assail
you are not orcs that can be left behind, Fileg.  Healing may be no easier to
find in Aman."

Filigwî closed his eyes, suddenly very tired.  "Does it matter?"

"I suppose it does not, not to you.  You lie in this bed and let others make
decisions for you, just as you have always done.  You have let others tell you
how to feel about yourself, but you had a choice.  I am sorry that no one made
you feel loved, that your parents did not have the kindness to tell you of their
leave-taking.  You deserved better.

"I have given you my heart, my strength, and I have given them freely, asking
nothing in return," Elladan continued.  "Yet ever did you look at me with
suspicion;  you took what I would give, but never returned my gift.  I grow
weary of giving love in return for nothing."

"Elladan, I have loved you!"

"Love cannot exist without trust."

"Then perhaps I am incapable of it," Filigwî said quietly.

Elladan sat down on the bed, stroking the elf's hair.  "I do not believe that. 
If I did, I would not offer you the one thing that remains mine to give - but I
will not offer it without condition.  I would give you my soul, if you would
have it until the end of Arda.  But you must give me yours in return.

"You would bind yourself to me?  Why?"

"I love you, you silly fool.  I want to wake up next to you until the end of
time.  You have so feared that I would leave you that you failed to see that I
have been in a terror that you would die."

Filigwî turned this over in his astonished mind.  Such bonds were not made
lightly between the Firstborn.

"Where you go, I will follow," Elladan said softly.  "To the halls of Mandos, if
that be your choice."

"No!  I could not lead you there," Filigwî said in a choked voice.

"Then choose to live, Fileg.  And do not tell me it is not your choice.  Your
grief is such a weight on you that it seems you cannot breathe.  Let me share
that burden.  It is all I have ever asked of you."

Left alone to think about Elladan's proposal, Filigwî was seized by doubts.  The
binding of elves offered certainty, an assurance to which Elladan had obliquely
referred:  the certainty of 'forever'.  Elladan would never leave him.  Such a
bond was even stronger than the link between mother and child, for though one of
them might die or go west, their souls would remain inextricably tied.  There
were no second chances in elven marriage - there was no dissolution, no
declaration of mutual mistake.  Elves could not marry twice.

Yet this permanence filled Filigwî with anxiety.  He was not sure that he could
do what Elladan asked of him.  His world of fear was killing him, but it was a
world he knew well, one whose boundaries had become, in a strange way,
comfortable.  Could he trade the fear he knew for something unknown?  What if he
proved unworthy, what if he did, indeed, find that he could have no peace but in
death?  His hold on Elladan would become a source of regret, even resentment. 
It did not seem to the elf that he warranted such a sacrifice;  in time, Elladan
would forget him and find a love less complicated and a lover less troublesome.

"Well, you have got yourself in a fine state, young elf."

Filigwî looked up to see eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows.  He managed a weak
smile;  Mithrandir had always brought him comfort.

The wizard sat down next to the bed.  "I hear you are to go to the Havens
tomorrow."

The elf shrugged.  "So I am told."

"I gather that is not what you wish."

"I do not know what I wish."  He looked at the wizard.  "I want the pain to
end."

Mithrandir inclined his head slightly.  "That is understandable.  But pain is a
part of living.  It is up to us to decide whether we will let it consume us or
be our teacher."

"So I am, perhaps, better off with death," Filigwî said, looking away.

"You throw away your immortality lightly, little one."  Elves who faded from
grief rarely had the opportunity to leave the halls of Mandos.  "In their
hearts, your parents left Middle-earth long before you were born.  They hoped
you would give them reason to stay, and that was a great deal to expect of an
innocent child.

"It seems to me that you cannot stop wishing for what you never had, and so you
do not see what you have now," the wizard continued.  "Elladan loves you - he
would follow you to the west, though it grieves him to leave Middle-earth.  It
is a sacrifice not made for one who is unworthy.  Yet I think it would be a
tragedy should you take the straight path.  Middle-earth," he said, with a
serious look, "would miss even one shy little apothecary.  Erestor tells me that
you have a rare gift."

"Lord Erestor said this?"

"Hmmm, let us say that Erestor is not the ogre you think him to be.  He is quite
fond of you, although," he paused, his eyebrows knitting in an amused frown, "he
thinks you are a bit scatterbrained."

A strange sound came from the elf, almost a squeak from long disuse.  He
laughed.

Mithrandir smiled.  "There is a secret to living, if you will let an old wizard
blather on a bit more.  Contentment lies not in having what we want, but in
wanting what we have.  You cannot change what has already been, young elf." 
Mithrandir hoisted himself to his feet with the help of his staff.  "I will
leave you in peace, now.  Shall I send Elladan to you?"

Filigwî nodded - best to get through this before he lost his courage, he
thought.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Elladan drew some hope from his lover's small smile.  He sat down on the bed and
Filigwî took his hand.

"I must look awful."

"You are beautiful to me."  He laughed.  "But yes, you do look awful."

Filigwî looked down at their clasped hands, covering both with his free hand. 
"I do not know if I can do this," he frowned.

"Baby steps."

Filigwî looked at him quizzically.

"You have seen a baby learn to walk.  He takes his first step and ends up in a
heap, but with a loving hand to help him balance, he learns to take more and
more steps, and as he does, his legs grow stronger.  And at last he is ready to
try walking on his own, and he finds out that falling does not hurt so much as
he thought it might.  He does not have far to fall, after all.

"You and I will take baby steps," Elladan continued.  "I have been guilty of
asking you to run when you were not yet able to walk, and I am sorry for that. 
If I promise to be more patient, will you trust me enough to take my hand and
take those first steps?"

Filigwî started to look away through habit, avoiding his lover's eyes in fear
that the peredhel would see into his guarded heart.  With an effort, he turned
back to meet Elladan's gaze.  "I will try - that is all I can offer."

Elladan leaned forward and kissed him gently.  "It is enough."

Once, a small child had reached for a loving hand and found none.  Filigwî
reached for the hand now offered, and holding on for dear life, began to learn
to walk, all over again.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Filigwî trembled with aftershocks, his body tightening like a vise around
Elladan's still-thrusting member.  The peredhel groaned, grew more forceful as
he sought his own completion.  The elf gave a trembling sigh as the organ inside
him swelled and spilled its seed.

Elladan nuzzled his forehead against Filigwî's cheek.  After lying still for a
few moments, he began to lift himself off his lover's body, but Filigwî stopped
him.  He was not yet ready to lose the intimate contact between them.  "That was
nice," he said softly.

"Nice!  That is all it was to you?  Nice?" Elladan said in mock outrage.

Filigwî smiled and turned his head to kiss the peredhel.  "Nice," he said
firmly.  He felt quite content at this moment, with their bodies still joined
together, flesh against flesh.

Elladan understood what he meant.  In the union of their souls, he found a new
peace in their lovemaking, a perfection both emotionally exhilarating and
physically satisfying.  He could live with 'nice'.  He moved and this time
Filigwî, eyes glazed in sleep, made no protest.  Elladan curled in a spoon about
the young elf and listened to his lover's heartbeat, and his last thought before
he joined Filigwî in dreams was that 'nice' would be just fine forever.


~Epilogue~

The patient made a dreadful face as he sampled the draught.  Across the room, an
anxious voice broke in.  "Are you sure that will not harm him?"

"I am quite certain," the apothecary told him firmly, then turned to the patient
with a look that would brook no further protest.

The patient finished the draught and lay back, a disgusted look on his face. 
"That was awful."  With an amused smile, the elf took the empty cup.  "Thank
you," the patient added as the willowy creature glided to the door.  The elf
turned back and gave little bow of his head, in that strangely humble yet
dignified way of elves.

"You are quite welcome, Master Frodo."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Final notes:

- I don't mean to imply that Filigwî heals Frodo, only that Elrond may have had
the help of a good druggist.

- The chapter title and Gandalf's words, 'Contentment lies not in having what we
want, but in wanting what we have' are paraphrased from Sheryl Crow's 'Soak up
the Sun'.

- 'Nífdalu', the name of the mountain to which Glorfindel refers, is made up -
as far as I know, Tolkien never gave names to the mountains near Imladris.  It
means 'flat-face'.

- If there is any confusion remaining about Filigwî's age, I've followed
Morgoth's Ring, 'Laws and Customs Among the Eldar'.  Elves come of age at 50,
which, if you read the text carefully, appears to correspond to 18 rather than
21.  However, elves continue to grow and may not reach their full size until
100.  LACE also specifies that 'bodily union' between elves creates the marriage
bond, and obviously, I've chucked that part right out the window (not to mention
that Tolkien almost certainly never envisioned the bonding of two male elves).