Title: The Saving Grace
Author: Ilye
Email: ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk
Summary: Third in the "Kindred Spirits" trilogy. Legolas, who is still not 
fully healed, has fled from Imladris after discovering the events of the 
previous night, and now the race is on to find him before he fades from the 
grief... Elrohir/Legolas and Elrond/Glorfindel slash.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: Don't own, don't sue. Wow, how original was that...
Author's Note: For those of you who don't know, this is the 
Elrohir/Legolas sequel to another of my fics, "Don't Fade Away" - written 
for everyone who thought that I should put these two together! If you 
haven't already, then you might want to read that first, otherwise it won't 
make much sense. I am also writing the first in the trilogy at the same time 
- it's called "In Lieu of Love" and can alsso be found on this site. It will 
contain some information about the binding to save technique, and while it 
isn't essential for you to have read it, because I will try and explain it as 
clearly as possible, it might help.

Okay, on with the story. Sorry this first chapter is so short, for starters, I 
promise that others will be longer! Italic sentences denote someone's 
thoughts. Oh, and one more thing - this deserves the R rating right from 
the very first paragraph. I start as I mean to go on! 

This story starts a bit later on the same morning that "Don't Fade Away" 
ends. To remind you, Aragorn was asleep in Elrond's chambers after 
starting to heal Legolas, Legolas has woken up with a hangover and run 
away, Elrohir was feeling ill and was in bed, and Elrond and Glorfindel 
declared their undying love for each other and exchanged...uh...rings ;-)

And again, thanks to my beta, Caz!

***************  
The Saving Grace  
*************** 

***************  
Chapter 1  
*************** 
Just What I Needed to Hear... 

The water was blissfully hot and wonderfully fragrant as Elrond slid into 
the huge sunken tub, joining his lover in bathing away the remnants of the 
previous night's exertions. Glorfindel grinned and ducked below the 
surface to dampen his golden hair, then resurfaced and shook his head 
violently from side to side. Droplets of liquid flew in every direction, 
spraying Elrond, who merely raised an eyebrow before launching himself 
at the self-satisfied Eldar and dragging them both under the foamy water. 
Limbs tangled as they crashed into each other, causing water to slop over 
the edge of the bath and onto the floor. 

When the Elven-lords re-emerged from below the bubbles they were 
breathing heavily and laughing, their bodies pressed close. Chocolate eyes 
met sapphire blue for an instant, sending electric jolts through both their 
beings, before they found themselves caught up in a sweet, deep kiss that 
was becoming more passionate by the minute. Glorfindel took the lead 
after a few moments and pushed Elrond gently backwards, until he was 
sitting on a step carved in the side of the sunken tub. The willing half-Elf 
did as was silently requested of him without breaking the kiss, smiling into 
his lover's mouth as his hips were straddled. The feel of Glorfindel in his 
lap was enough to make him achingly hard, and soon his erection was 
pressing prominently into the other's thigh. 

When Glorfindel felt this he broke the kiss, smirking, and wriggled a bit, 
relishing the delicious gasp that left Elrond's mouth. An elegant hand 
slipped between their bodies, long fingers curling around and stroking the 
pulsing hardness, and he began to gently kiss his way down Elrond's neck. 
The half-Elf sighed elatedly and closed his eyes, laying his head back 
against the stone as the Eldar peppered his skin with delicate yet taunting 
kisses that drew ever closer to the water line just below his ribs. Elrond 
arched out of the water with an almost inaudible moan, beseeching his 
lover not to stop, and reached out to clasp Glorfindel's shoulders. 
Suddenly heavy, hurried footsteps sounded outside the partly open door, 
causing Elrond's head to snap up in trepidation. He listened closely, 
hearing the footsteps come increasingly closer; he then grabbed 
Glorfindel's head with both hands and forced him under the water, just as 
a dark head and a worried expression appeared around the door. 

"There you are, Adar,' sighed Aragorn, a little out of breath and in an 
anxious tone of voice, as he caught sight of his foster-father in the large 
tub in the centre of the bathroom. "There is a problem; Legolas is 
missing." 

Elrond groaned inwardly - and then outwardly, for a warm mouth 
suddenly encased his erection, sending a shiver through his body; of 
course, Glorfindel could not hear their conversation from under the water. 
A small, choked noise escaped his throat, which he barely managed to 
disguise with a cough, and subtly tried to push Glorfindel's head away 
from his groin, but with little success. // Thank Elbereth for the bubbles...//

"Where have you looked, Estel?" he asked, noticing with a wince the 
huskiness of his voice and quickened breathing. "You know how he likes 
his privacy - perhaps he is in his room?" 

Aragorn shook his head. "Nay, he is not. Nor is he in the kitchens, nor the 
dining halls, nor by the fire..." 

Elrond sighed heavily, followed by a poorly concealed gasp and a few 
more hand motions under the surface - // how has Glorfindel not died from 
lack of air?!  //

"I will come, Estel. Wake Elladan and Erestor," he replied curtly, hoping 
that his foster-son was too worked up to notice the distinct flush across his 
usually pale cheeks. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. 

"And Glorfindel?" 

"Nay, he is already awake. He is lurking about somewhere..." 

The Man nodded in acknowledgement and left to do as he was bid, his 
heavy footfalls reverberating down the corridor. With a deep exhalation, 
Elrond pulled Glorfindel up to the surface again. The Eldar was gasping 
for breath after his ducking, although his face was still alight with 
mischief, his eyes gleaming. His heart sank, however, when he saw 
Elrond's anxious expression, and he cocked his head in concern. 

" What is the matter, melethron? What happened?" 

Elrond raised his dark eyes to his lover's bright sapphire pair, the sight of 
which left him able to manage a weak smile. "It was Estel. He cannot find 
Legolas." 

Glorfindel frowned and extended a hand to the half-Elf's shoulder, 
squeezing it in reassurance. "Legolas likes to be alone at times, we all 
know that. He has probably just gone off for some time to himself." 

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but remember what happened the last 
time he went off for some time to himself - last night, if I recall correctly. 
And added to the fact that he is not fully healed, either..." 

The Eldar bit his lip, his brow creasing. "Aye, well, either way we will do 
nothing to remedy the situation by sitting here talking," he reasoned, 
climbing out of the bath and offering a hand to his lover. Elrond accepted, 
and found himself pulled into a tight hug and a brief kiss as he stood. 

"We will find him, nîn ind; he cannot be far away," assured the Eldar as he 
took two towels from the nearby bench and handed one to Elrond. "Do not 
worry just yet." 

Another weak smile from Elrond. "Aye, nîn bellas. I know, and I will try. 
Nonetheless, I have sent Estel to wake Elladan and Erestor, so they can 
help. I think it would be better if we left Elrohir to sleep." 

Glorfindel made a noise of agreement and smiled reassuringly, releasing 
the half-Elf so that he could begin dressing in the hastily discarded clothes 
at his feet. Elrond followed suit, and it was only a few moments before 
both Elven-lords were fully clothed again, damp hair pulled back, 
unbraided, into a pony-tail at the back of their heads. With one last brief 
kiss for luck, they set off to find Aragorn, Elladan and Erestor. 

*** 

Elvish Translations: 

adar - father 

melethron - love/lover 

nîn ind - my heart 

nîn bellas - my strength 

***************  
Chapter 2  
*************** 
Giving Chase 

Elrond strode into the library, flanked by Glorfindel, to meet Aragorn, 
Elladan and Erestor as agreed. The lord of Imladris' dark-haired son and 
advisor both looked dishevelled and bleary-eyed, obviously having been 
woken in a hurry, and Elladan yawned widely in way of greeting to his 
father. The two Elven-lords did not bother to sit at the table at which the 
three other dark-haired figures were sitting. Elrond wasted no time in 
getting started. 

"Start at the beginning, Estel. Tell me what has happened." 

The King shrugged, a confused expression upon his face. "'Tis simple; I 
awoke early this morning to find that Legolas was not there. I searched 
everywhere - in his rooms, in the kitchens, by the fire, in here, but he is 
nowhere to be seen." He paused and shook his head. "I am worried, adar, 
especially after he tried to kill himself last night." 

Elrond nodded curtly. "And did anyone have the common sense to check 
the stables and see if his horse is still here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 
The three at the table lowered their gazes sheepishly and shook their dark 
heads. The half-Elf clapped his hands together, emitting a sharp, action-
promoting sound. "Well, what are we waiting for? Come on! If he really 
has run off then we cannot afford to waste time; he is still far from 
healed." Upon seeing Erestor's puzzled expression Elrond turned to him, 
motioning for his advisor to fall into a quick step beside him as the five 
figures strode in the direction of the stables. 

"Briefly, Erestor, Legolas is grieving for Estel. He very nearly died last 
night, after he tried to kill himself at the top of the waterfall and fell in, but 
fortunately Elrohir saved him. Estel began to heal him last night, but he is 
still weak and fading; that is why we need to find him." Erestor opened his 
mouth, a torrent of queries obviously ready to pour from his tongue. "No 
questions, it is all being dealt with," cut in Elrond. Now was not the time 
for him to be explaining unnecessary issues. 

Erestor seemed to accept this and remained silent whilst the group briskly 
made their way outside and towards the stables. Upon entering the barn it 
was clear to see that the stall that had previously held Legolas' steed was 
empty, for the door was swung wide open, and the tack was nowhere to be 
seen. Aragorn swore loudly in Westron and Elladan pursed his lips in 
anxiety; Elrond stopped mid-step, his shoulders sagging visibly. 
Glorfindel cast a sideways glance at his lover, seeing this, and instantly 
took control of the conversation. 

"Estel, Elladan, tack up your horses. You too, my lord. Erestor, return to 
the house and maintain control of things there. Inform Arwen of what has 
happened, and on no account are you to allow Elrohir to leave these 
grounds. But keep everything as quiet as possible; the fewer people who 
know about this, the better." 

His words were immediately obeyed and the blond Eldar saddled up his 
own horse; within moments all four horses were tacked up and the riders 
mounted, debating their next move. 

"It is most likely that he is returning to Mirkwood," commented Aragorn, 
urging his horse into a trot as they made their way through the city and 
towards the gates. 

"Probably," replied Glorfindel, drawing up level with the Man as he also 
moved into trot. The others followed. "Though do you not think that he 
would have chosen a lesser used route, to lower the chances of us finding 
him?" 

Elrond ground to a halt, clapping one hand to his forehead at his stupidity. 
"Of course, that is highly likely. Perhaps we should pair off, then; how 
about I take this route with Estel, and you take another with Elladan?" 

Glorfindel agreed with a nod of his head, spinning Asfaloth on the spot 
and motioning to Elladan as he accelerated into canter in the other 
direction. "Aye - come on, Elladan, there is no time to lose! Ride safely, 
my lord." 

Much as Elrond wished to watch his lover go, he could not. Time ticked. 
The further that Legolas got from Imladris then the more danger his life 
was in; Aragorn sped past his foster-father in a blur, calling something 
unintelligible as he went. Elrond's horse followed without him having to 
give any aids, and together they galloped from Imladris via the main route. 

Wind whipped past Aragorn's face as they galloped along the beaten track, 
pushing his horse as fast as he would go for well over ten minutes. All he 
could concentrate on was finding Legolas as soon as possible; his 
conscience taunted him and bombarded him with horrifying scenarios. // 
What if they did not find him in time? What if he has faded already? What 
if he is too weak, and some awful injury has befallen him? What if... //

The nagging calling inside his head filled his senses, so that all he could 
hear was the voice and all he could concentrate on was searching, seeking, 
scanning for a trail, a hint, a clue. But there was nothing, nothing except 
the pounding of the hooves beneath him, the heaving of the flanks, the 
dark coat frenzied into white foam. Realisation hit him and he pulled 
Aglar up, absentmindedly soothing the strained animal with a soft word 
and a pat. A few moments later his foster-father drew up next to him, his 
face flushed from both exertion and irritation, his horse in a similar 
condition to the King's. He raised an eyebrow scathingly at Aragorn. 

"Has that helped you to vent some of your frustration, Estel?" The half-
Elf's voice was laced with sarcasm, his tone annoyed. "Wearing the horses 
to exhaustion within the first quarter-hour will be fruitless to us all. Use 
your head. Now come on, do not just stop; walk your horse before he 
catches a chill." 

Aragorn was shamefaced, but did as he was told. They walked in silence, 
until the horses had caught their breath again and the lather on their coats 
had dried. After another few moments, the Man looked over to his foster-
father in question. 

"I see no trail, adar." 

Elrond's face was sombre as he replied, and his brow creased a little. "Nor 
I. Ai, this is not good; I can only hope that Elladan and Glorfindel are 
having more luck than us." He stopped speaking for a moment, then 
resumed as though he had forgotten something, or almost as if he were 
talking to himself. 

"Although it is more likely that he would have taken the least used track if 
he did not want to be followed," he murmured. Aragorn nodded 
dejectedly, and heaved a sigh that caused Elrond to look over to him. The 
Man caught the half-Elf's eye, holding the chocolate gaze with his steel-
grey for a moment before he felt compelled to look away. They continued 
walking in silence for a few minutes, until Aragorn spoke up softly. 

"This is my fault, adar. I cannot help thinking about it, about what would 
have happened if we had not stolen those nights of comfort together on the 
Quest, or if we had not been so close." 

Elrond looked over to his foster-son, and when their eyes met this time 
Aragorn found himself lost in the confusing, swirling depths of the half-
Elf's, no longer penetrating and critical as they had been previously. "You 
were both friends, and you needed comfort, Estel," he said slowly, 
choosing his words with care. "I can sympathise with you on both of those 
accounts." 

Aragorn maintained the gaze. "Yes, but I still cannot stop thinking about 
it. About what those nights really meant to him, and our friendship, and 
our lack of contact over the past two years." He paused, but Elrond gave 
him the room that he needed to continue. When he next spoke, his voice 
was almost a murmur, reproachful and laden with guilt. 

"Or what if I had agreed to save him sooner." 

Elrond did not reply, instead breaking the eye contact and pursing his lips, 
pushing his horse into a trot once more as a signal to Aragorn that they 
should get moving again. 
~~~ 

The dark figure upon the chestnut stallion swayed a little in the saddle as 
he rode, encouraging the tired animal to continue in the canter. The hood 
of his thick black cloak was pulled up over his head, hiding his face, and 
his shoulders were hunched up as though he were cold. He shook his head 
as if to clear it, revealing a few stray strands of golden hair from under the 
hood as he did so, before finally relenting and slowing his horse to a trot. 

The stallion willingly obliged, exhausted from the fast pace that he had 
been forced to maintain, and was praised with a pat and a soft word from 
his master. The rider let out the reins a little, allowing his steed to stretch 
out his neck; the sudden relaxation caused the horse to trip over a 
protruding tree root, and the rider was thrown forwards onto his neck. 

Legolas cursed, for he had never before been unseated by something so 
trivial as a stumble. Gathering up the reins again and lifting Arod's head, 
he pushed forwards along the little-used path towards Mirkwood. 

***************  
Chapter 3  
*************** 
Tell-Tale 

Erestor tapped gently on the door to Arwen's chambers and waited. A few 
sounds could be heard before the door was opened, to reveal the pristinely 
dressed Queen of Gondor. A mild look of pleasant surprise spread across 
her face when she first clapped eyes on the Elf at her door, though she 
frowned a little after noticing his dishevelled appearance and confused 
expression. 

“Erestor! What can I do for you? Is something the matter?” 

The male Elf nodded, somewhat dazedly. “Aye, my lady, I regret to say 
that there is. I know not the entire story, but Legolas has gone missing. 
Your father, Estel, Glorfindel and Elladan have gone in search for him.” 
Arwen closed her eyes wearily. “I had thought everything was too good to 
be true.” She paused and opened her eyes again, revealing troubled jade 
orbs beneath the lids and long, dark lashes, and stepped out into corridor. 
“What about Elrohir? Does he know?” 

“No, not yet,” came the reply. “I was instructed not to let him leave the 
grounds of the house, on any account. Do you think we should tell him?” 

Arwen considered for a moment before answering. ”I am not sure,” she 
admitted finally, “I am in two minds over the subject. It is not fair to keep 
this from him, for it is something that he should know. But then again, I 
am also certain that my brother would not hesitate to go after Legolas the 
second he finds out; you know as well as I how close they are. What do 
you think?” 

Erestor cocked his head pensively. “Perhaps we should take this as it 
comes, and see how things turn out. How is he this morning - have you 
seen him yet? I gather he jumped into the water to save Legolas.” 

Arwen nodded. “Yes, he did. He acted very bravely last night; I am proud 
of him. I was actually about to check on him now, though I was in no rush 
because I assumed that father would have done. But obviously he has 
other matters requiring his attention now...” She added this last sentence 
thoughtfully after a pause, before continuing. “I will go and see my 
brother, and if he finds out then he finds out. There is nothing much we 
can do otherwise, and he is bound to discover this sooner or later. You go 
and get some breakfast, and then get properly washed and dressed. I am 
assuming you were woken in a hurry?!” 

“Does it show?” Erestor grinned sheepishly. 

Arwen laughed despite herself. “Very much so!” she teased, educing a 
feigned scowl from the other Elf. “Go on -I shall come and find you later.” 

With that she turned away and began walking towards Elrohir's chambers, 
leaving Erestor to sort himself out. Her brother's rooms were situated at 
the other side of the house and on the top floor, due to the fact that he 
greatly valued his privacy, and Arwen was glad that she encountered very 
few people on the way. // Everyone probably exhausted themselves after 
the feast last night //, she thought wryly as she arrived at her brother's 
door, and tapped gently on it. 

There was no reply, so she turned the handle and slipped inside, smiling 
wistfully at the sight of her elder brother sleeping soundly in the bed. She 
walked over and sat down on the edge of it, extending her hand to gently 
caress his cheek with her fingers. The pale skin was rather cool and 
Arwen's brow creased, but at that moment Elrohir turned his head and 
blearily focused his eyes on his sister. 

“Good morning, gwanur-nîn,” she greeted him, her frown evolving into a 
smile. He blinked at her sleepily. 

“'Mornin'.” The mumbled word was followed by a gaping yawn, and he 
brought his hand up to rub his eyes. 

“How do you feel?” 

Elrohir waved away the question. “Fine, fine,” he insisted. He did not tell 
her that, in actual fact, he felt a little cold, and that his head was rather 
fuzzy. Instead he dismissed them as side effects of jumping into the water 
last night; he was bound to feel a bit strange. Besides, that was the least of 
his worries at the moment. 

“How fares Legolas this morning?” he continued, sitting up in the bed a 
little. “Is he up yet?” 

Arwen closed her eyes and sighed heavily; there was that inevitable 
question. Elrohir raised an eyebrow. “Arwen? What is wrong? Tell me 
what has happened.” 

"Elrohir, you must promise not to do anything stupid..." 

"Arwen..." Elrohir's voice was menacing as he sat up properly and threw 
the covers off his legs. 

"Legolas has gone missing." 

The she-Elf winced, thus missing the dismayed expression on her 
brother’s face. The rustle of sheets announced the fact that he had stood 
up, and she looked over to see him about to pull on some clothes. 

“What do you think you are doing?” 

Elrohir looked at her as if she were stupid. “I’m going to find him, of 
course. What did you think I was doing?” 

“Nay, Elrohir, you cannot! Father and Glorfindel are already searching 
with Elladan and Estel; there is no point in you going out as well. Besides, 
Father said that you were not to leave the grounds of the house.” 

Elrohir snorted as he started to put on his clothes, turning his back to her. 
“I do not care – what if they do not find him? What then, Arwen? He 
cannot be fully healed yet, and either way he will fade if Estel is not there. 
Besides, he must have run away because he still does not want to be with 
Estel. And let’s face it, he was not really in a position to choose last night, 
was he?” 

Arwen cut in, her voice beseeching. “Please, Elrohir, stay. You are not 
well, I know, and –“ 

Elrohir turned his head to look at his sister sceptically. “What makes you 
think I am not well?” 

Arwen shrugged. “Nothing in particular, just that your skin is cold. And 
you did not seem very well last night!” 

Elrohir shook his head impatiently as he continued dressing. “Your 
imagination, dear sister. I have told you, I am in good health. Last night 
was just the effects of the cold water, and the shock. I am fine.” He 
finished buttoning up his shirt and turned back round to face her. 
“Legolas, however, is not. He could die, Arwen, and I will not let that 
happen.” His voice was quiet this time but no less insistent, and full of 
sincerity. “I will bind myself to him if that is what it takes, but I could not 
bear to let him go when I could do otherwise.” 

Without a further word he turned on his heel and strode towards the door, 
grabbing his cloak on the way out. Arwen uttered an outraged cry and 
grabbed at his arm, but he shook her off and ran down the corridor, merely 
glancing back at her apologetically before he vanished round a corner. 
Arwen clenched her fists in frustration and heaved a heavy sigh, gritting 
her teeth, then rushed off to find Erestor and inform him of the not 
unexpected turn of events. 

Elvish Translations: 

Gwanur-nîn – my brother 

***************  
Chapter 4  
*************** 
      Runaway Tongues 

Glorfindel scanned the area between the trees to either side of him with his 
sharp sapphire eyes, but still he could see nothing. He was beginning to 
get worried; they had been out for almost two hours now, and still there 
was no sign of Legolas or his horse. He pursed his lips together in 
frustration, marring his handsome features, and looked over to Elladan, 
who was wearing a similarly perturbed expression. 

"Nothing," sighed the Eldar, answering the silent question from the 
younger Elf. "No sign whatsoever; I can only assume that he has not come 
this way. I hope that your father and Estel are having more luck than us." 

"As do I," agreed Elladan with a grim nod. "So what do you propose we 
do?" 

Glorfindel shrugged. "There is no point in us staying out here and chasing 
imaginary trails. It is probably best if we turn back and follow another." 

"But what if we end up on the same trail as father and Estel? Surely that 
would be nothing more than a glorious waste of time?" remarked Elladan 
sarcastically. 

A pointed look was thrown his way. "Do you have any better ideas?" 
Glorfindel's voice was sceptical. "Besides, we should easily be able to tell 
whether they have been before us, for their trails will be no older than two 
hours." 

Elladan looked slightly shamefaced, and the tips of his ears coloured 
slightly pink. "Aye, you are right as usual. I really should think before I 
speak, shouldn't I?" Glorfindel offered him a kind smile, gratefully 
received. "Come on, then," continued the younger Elf, halting and turning 
his horse. "Let us head back." 

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they changed their direction, 
still examining the ground before them and to either side, lest they picked 
up on something they had previously missed. After a few moments a drop 
of water splashed onto Elladan's nose, shortly followed by another, and he 
looked up at the gathering storm clouds in the sky. 

"I do believe we are going to get wet," he commented, to no one in 
particular, but Glorfindel took the chance to reply anyway. 

"Yes, and neither of us have cloaks. Perhaps it is a good thing we are 
returning back, for I do not fancy the idea of searching in the rain for 
hours on end in naught but my shirt and leggings." 

Elladan did not voice an answer to the slightly touchy comment; he 
understood that Glorfindel had reason to be stressed at this moment. 
Nonetheless, he risked a glance over at the Eldar, and for the first time 
noticed a familiar blue and silver ring on the blond's left ring finger. He 
frowned, and surreptitiously nudged his horse closer to the Eldar's grey 
stallion. A few more sideways glances were cast at the silver band set with 
a sapphire stone, before he looked up to find himself being regarded with a 
pair of similar gems. They twinkled in amusement, though his fair face 
showed the converse, as Elladan gave himself a mental shake. Glorfindel 
raised an eyebrow, smirking, when the dark-haired Elf averted his eyes in 
embarrassment. 

"Pray tell, what do you find so interesting about my hand, Elladan?" His 
voice was perfectly serious, despite the fact that the Eldar knew perfectly 
well what the younger Elf had been looking at. Elladan cleared his throat 
nervously before he spoke hesitantly. 

"I...you...is that Vilya?" His voice held notes of disbelief; he was not quite 
certain that he trusted his eyes. Glorfindel smiled, shyly this time, and 
glanced down at his hand. 

"Aye, 'tis," he answered, and Elladan noticed how his voice had instantly 
become more cheerful, less sombre. 

"When?" 

"Last night." Glorfindel's shy smile had become wider as he recalled the 
events of the previous night, and his eyes glistened brightly. "He told me 
that I was his Vilya, and that the world would never grow dim for him, as 
long as we were together." He paused for a moment, looking up at Elladan 
before he continued. "I love him so much..." 

The dark Elf grinned happily and clapped the handsome blond on the 
shoulder. "Aye, that much I can tell!" he replied. "And he you - more than 
you could know, I think. Do you plan to...make yourselves public...any 
time soon?" 

Glorfindel shrugged. "I had hoped that we would do so in the next few 
days, although the current state of affairs now suggests otherwise. I 
wanted to do so before, but your father has been reluctant until recently." 

Elladan cocked his head thoughtfully. "I think I can understand why. He 
has greater reason than yourself." The Eldar's right eyebrow shot up 
towards his hairline, and he looked at the younger Elf with incredulous 
curiosity. 

"How so?" 

The dark Elf shrugged. "He is the Lord of Imladris; he holds a high and 
respected position. Some may consider it inappropriate for him to be 
sleeping with his seneschal, particularly after his wife departed West." 

"Elladan!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "What did you just say?!" 

Chocolate eyes went wide as Elladan realised what he had just said, and he 
clapped his hand over his mouth. "Ai! No, no, no, no, no! That is not what 
I mean at all! Forgive me, there I go speaking without thinking again! 
Nay, I know that you love my father more than anything on this earth, and 
rank holds no claim in my opinion, but what I meant was that others may 
not see it like that - you know how narrow-minded people can be - and 
obviously they do not know the full story, for if they did then they would 
understand, but --" 

"Elladan," cut in Glorfindel gently, placing his hand on the younger Elf's 
shoulder and stemming the torrent of words. "Shut up." 

The other Elf flushed furiously and looked away, causing the Eldar to 
laugh softly. "Sometimes I wonder if your mouth is connected to your 
brain at all, pen-neth!" What could have been taken as a derogatory 
comment was proven otherwise by a companionable squeeze of Elladan's 
shoulder. The embarrassed Elf could not help but smile despite himself. 

"I know perfectly well what you meant to say," continued Glorfindel, 
cocking his head to look at him. "But there are others who may not. You 
said it yourself; people can be very narrow-minded, and once they have 
reached an opinion on something they will not change it readily. It would 
be easy for them to get the wrong impression of you." He paused, and for 
a moment silence descended before the blond began again, thoughtfully, 
but returning to the original tangent. "But then, I have no reason to believe 
that any member of Imladris, ‘Lórien or Mirkwood will react adversely to 
this. It is something that I wish to celebrate; we should not have to hide 
our love. We are bound, in the closest possible way, and if that does not 
prove something then I know not what does." 

By this point it was raining heavily, with a chill wind uncharacteristic for 
the time of year, piercing their damp clothes. Elladan shook his head 
slowly in wonder, regarding the blond out of the corner of his eye. "Such 
words of wisdom..." he mused, causing Glorfindel to laugh quietly. 

"Perhaps, but consider the ages that I have had to cultivate them!" 

Elladan laughed too. "So there is hope for me yet, then!" 

Glorfindel smirked slyly. "Nay, pen-neth, I feel that there will never be 
hope for you! Your mouth has always been connected directly to your 
heart, and it would take some major surgery to change that!" 

The younger Elf spluttered indignantly, and Glorfindel laughed again. "I 
should not worry about it," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I prefer 
you like this." A shy smile from the dark Elf. "Now, come on," continued 
the blond, "the gates are in sight, and I am frozen to the bone!" 

Elladan agreed with a firm nod, and both riders spurred their horses 
forward towards the city. As they were nearing the junction of two major 
tracks, however, they heard the sound of hooves coming along the other 
road and stopped, looking behind them hopefully. To their surprise they 
saw Aragorn and Elrond, who had obviously had similar thoughts to 
Elladan and Glorfindel and were riding in the direction of the city. The 
latter pair of the four waited at the junction before falling into step with 
the former two. 

"Any luck?" questioned Glorfindel, although he knew what the answer 
would be. Elrond shook his head. 

"Nay, no sign whatsoever. We were just heading back to fetch our cloaks, 
for we are soaking wet and frozen through." // Not to mention the fact that 
our horses are exhausted, // he added mentally with a sideways glance at 
Aragorn, but held his tongue. 

The King pursed his lips in irritation. "Curse this rain; aside from making 
us turn back, it will wash away any remaining tracks that Legolas has 
left." 

Elrond now turned his full gaze to his foster-son and fixed him with his 
stony glare. "There is no point in following tracks that do not exist, Estel. 
You as a Ranger should know that better than the rest of us. We are only 
wasting time by keeping to this path; we may as well try and find another 
way to go." 

Aragorn sighed heavily but did not answer, and Glorfindel chanced a 
glance at his frustrated lover. Elrond caught the blond's eye and smiled 
grimly; it was obvious that they had shared clashing opinions for most of 
their ride. Glorfindel recalled that Elrond and Aragorn had never got along 
that well; of course they had loved each other in the way of a father and 
son, but they were always quarrelling over one subject or another. They 
were too similar, too stubborn, and many a time that had led to conflict 
between them. Now appeared to be no exception, and Glorfindel 
considered taking Aragorn with him instead of Elladan when they set out 
again. 

By this point they had reached the house, and left their horses in the hands 
of the grooms whilst they dashed inside to change their clothes and grab 
their cloaks. Just as they were preparing to leave again, however, having 
met in the entrance hall as agreed, Erestor came running down the stairs. 

"My lord, have you had any luck?" he asked, his tone anxious. Elrond 
shook his head, regarding his advisor with interest. 

"No, unfortunately we haven't. We are about to set off on different paths. 
Why, what is the matter?" 

Erestor worried at his lower lip, and his voice was hesitant when he spoke. 
"I am sorry, my lord...Arwen and I tried to stop him, but --" 

"Erestor..." Elrond demanded. 

"Elrohir has run after Legolas." 

To be continued...
 
Elvish Translations:
 
Pen-neth - young one 
 
 

***************  
Chapter 5  
***************

Of Black Thoughts and Mud 

Elrohir paused as he came to the junction, to consider which path Legolas 
might have taken. The blond Prince was far too cunning to have taken the 
main road, Elrohir decided; if Legolas really did not want to be found then 
he would have gone by the least travelled route. 

The dark-haired Elf thought for a moment, before a slow smile spread 
across his face. He recalled showing his friend a little-used path out of the 
city once before, which led from the back of the vale and bypassed the 
main guardhouse; surely that would have been Legolas' most favoured 
road. Turning his horse on the spot, Elrohir then pushed into canter and 
sped through the city. 

He stopped again to check the trails as the hard road became a dirt track, 
and was relieved to see that, despite the rain, there were still faint hoof 
prints in the rapidly forming mud. Pulling his cloak tightly around him, 
and the hood over his face to keep out the rain, he spurred his horse into a 
canter once more and took off along the track. 

The track led through the forest, and it was dark beneath the trees, given 
the thick clouds overhead. Elrohir had to keep his eyes peeled for any 
further signs of his friend. The marks were encouraging, though - the 
imprint in the mud of where a horse had stumbled here, a shred of 
Mirkwood-coloured fabric over there on a branch, and all the way the 
ever-fading hoof prints that showed where Arod had been. 

The rain was falling harder and faster by the minute, and the heightening 
wind was beginning to drive it into Elrohir's face. He lowered his hood 
over his brow and dropped his eyes to the floor, thanking Elbereth that 
Legolas had taken his own cloak. 
Suddenly an ominous rumble of thunder sounded above and he glanced 
up, counting the seconds until the flash of lightning ensued. Eleven 
seconds; well, that was encouraging. At least the storm was still a fair 
distance away. Shaking his head to dismiss any horrible scenarios and 
"what-if"s that threatened to creep upon him, Elrohir bent all his attention 
on following the fading tracks in the mud, and spurred his horse forwards. 

*** 

Legolas cursed at the first clap of thunder and glanced up into the sky. 
Lightning followed several seconds later, and Arod jumped at the sudden 
flash that illuminated the surroundings for a split second. Legolas could 
feel that the horse was tense underneath him, almost so much so that he 
was trembling; the chestnut had always had a nervous disposition, and the 
approaching storm was doing nothing to help. The Prince stretched out his 
hand to rub Arod's wither, in an attempt to calm the worried animal, but as 
he was doing so he caught sight of the flash of white that enveloped his 
wrist, and frowned. 

Both wrists were still bandaged from the night before, for the gashes in his 
forearms were still far from healed. He could feel the dull throb from the 
base of his palm to the crook of his elbow - which, no doubt, was being 
exacerbated by his grip on the reins - and although combined with the 
slight itching that signified new tissue growth, the pain was tiring none the 
less. 

Legolas sighed as he considered the state that he was in; he was still not 
fully healed, which meant that he was weak and fading. His once strong, 
lean figure was now bony and gaunt, and his forearms were slit from 
elbow to palm; not to mention the fact that his abused muscles still ached 
all over. His pain and weariness, combined with the foul weather and his 
desolate situation, sent him into a black mood, and he began to sink deep 
into a dark reverie of irrational thoughts. 

// How could I have let this happen? //  he chastised himself harshly. // 
Look at yourself; you are weak and pitiful. No wonder Aragorn did not 
wish to save you! So what are you going to do now? Creep off home, 
where you can die in peace. Nobody else will save you instead. //

The Prince scowled at himself and bit his lip hard, for no particular reason. 
He absentmindedly picked at one of the bandages, his concentration 
wandered as his dark thoughts enveloped him, and lost focus on the now-
difficult task in hand of simply riding his horse. 

It was no wonder, then, that he was thrown off balance when his still-
nervous mount started again at another clap of thunder and streak of 
lightning, this time much closer together, and lost both of his stirrups. 
Before he had time to right himself, however, something shot out of the 
bushes to his left in a flurry of leaves and water droplets, obviously 
startled by the horse, and Arod shied sideways into the trees. 

Legolas was thrown completely to one side as his horse darted out from 
underneath him, and, lacking the strength to hold himself in the saddle, 
grabbed at the chestnut mane in desperation. Whatever had shot out of the 
bushes previously - presumably a bird - squawked loudly in astonishment, 
which only succeeded in spooking Arod further. He galloped off into the 
forest to the side of the path, darting left and right to avoid the trees in his 
fright. Legolas could do nothing but hang on to the handful of mane, but 
the rain had left it slippery and hard to grip, and finally he lost his hold 
when Arod lurched to one side. 

He could almost feel himself falling in slow motion as the mud came up to 
greet him. He landed on his side, but his head hit the ground, hard beneath 
the mud, with a thud. Everything went black, and the limp figure rolled 
heavily onto his front. The rain came down and the thunder clapped 
overhead, but the Prince lay still. 


***************  
Chapter 6  
*************** 

Absent 

Elrond looked at Erestor incredulously. "What?" His voice was cool and 
even, belying the chord of dismay that had struck his heart, and had taken 
on the tone that could - and often did - make the addressed blanch and 
quake in their boots. 

And Erestor was doing just that. "M-my lord, I am sorry..." he stammered, 
pausing to gulp and dislodge the words that had caught in his throat. "We 
tried to stop him, but he would not listen." 

Elrond raised the other eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Astounding," he 
muttered tightly. "I ask for one thing, if nothing else, to be done while I 
am gone, and... never mind, there is no point in worrying over this now.." 
He paused and ran his hand over his face then looked up, wearing a totally 
different expression as though he had changed masks in the manner of a 
player. This time his features were set with grim determination, and a new 
flicker of willpower lit his eyes. "Right; how long ago did he leave?" 

"About three-quarters of an hour, my lord." Erestor's voice was steadier 
this time, having seen the forcible change in the Lord of Imladris' mood. 
Glorfindel noticed that his cheeks had returned more to their natural 
colour, now he could see that he was not going to be on the receiving end 
of Elrond's temper. 

"Did you see which way he went?" 

"Aye, he rode through the city. I thought it rather strange, but --" Erestor 
was cut off by an exasperated groan from Elladan, and all eyes were 
turned towards the elder twin. 

"How could I be so stupid?! There is a path, unused for many years, on the 
other side of the city, which bypasses the main gates and guardhouse, and 
leads from the back of the vale. Elrohir showed it to Legolas once before; 
I am certain that is the route by which he would have left." 

Elrond looked at his son in wonder. "Do you remember the way to it?" 
Elladan nodded vigorously, and his father leapt into action. "Then come 
with me and show me the way," he instructed, motioning for Elladan to 
follow as he strode forwards. Aragorn and Glorfindel also started 
forwards, but he stopped and turned to face them. "Nay, I wish for the pair 
of you to remain behind." 

Aragorn looked amazed. "But father," he began, looking to his foster-
father with imploring grey eyes. Elrond shook his head and cut him off 
with a wave of his hand. 

"No, Estel, I will not discuss this now. You are to remain here and that is 
that. If you so wish, you can complain upon my return." 

Glorfindel received no words, but he understood why Elrond was refusing 
to let Aragorn come along. A silent look shared between the two lovers 
spoke volumes to him, and he nodded the half-Elf good luck. With a 
hidden smile for the blond, Elrond turned on his heel and led Elladan from 
the entrance hall, out to the yard where the grooms were waiting with 
fresh horses. They wrapped their cloaks tightly around them against the 
driving rain, mounted in one swift, easy motion and instantly spurred their 
horses onwards. 

Elrond allowed Elladan to go on ahead, and then followed him along the 
short path into the city. The few citizens who were still outside in the 
dreadful weather stopped to watch in awe as the two Elves clattered 
through the narrow streets with their heads lowered against the stinging 
water droplets and the wind whistling in their ears. Their hair, darkened to 
jet by the torrential downpour, was plastered to their faces underneath the 
hoods of the already soaking cloaks, but every Elf in the road recognised 
their lord and his son, and instantly cleared the way for them. 

Emerging on the far side of the city, where the houses were few and far 
between, Elladan slowed the pace slightly so that he could search for the 
path and any signs of his brother and the Prince. A hoof print caught his 
eye, though watery and difficult to distinguish now, and he followed the 
general direction of it until his sharp Elven vision spied the space in the 
trees that he was searching for. 

He looked back at his father to point out the path, but at that moment 
lightning flashed overhead, and he jumped. A long, low roll of thunder 
followed several moments later. 

"Six seconds," yelled Elrond above the rising wind. "Two leagues away." 

Elladan nodded grimly and jerked his head towards the path that led into 
the forest. He did not bother to speak, for the direction of the wind was 
such that his father would not have heard anyway. Elrond understood, 
however, and followed his son between the trees. 

***
 
Elrohir grimaced at the realisation that the storm was drawing closer when 
the next flash of lightning and rumble of thunder ensued, and he 
encouraged his tiring horse forwards. The path was becoming difficult to 
negotiate now, for it had been disused for years and the forest was starting 
to grow over it. He had to duck and dodge branches that reached out to 
block his way, but twigs still lashed at his face and snagged his cloak as he 
rode past at a fast canter. All the time he was keeping his eyes peeled for 
the ever-fading signs of the lost Prince, and it was beginning to wear on 
him, despite consoling himself with the fact that at least there was still a 
trail. 

He was alerted to the weariness of his mount when she stumbled, and 
finally allowed her to slow to a walk temporarily; it made their journey 
along the winding path easier, anyway. The twin sighed and rubbed the 
mare's neck, realising his own fatigue for the first time. He had not 
expected to tire so quickly, for he was fit and active, and used to hunting 
for days at a time. But then again, he had jumped into the icy pool at the 
waterfall last night, and run from there to the house with Legolas in his 
arms. Not to mention the emotional draining factor of the entire situation; 
he was tired and drained, and nothing more. // Arwen does not know what 
she is talking about, //  he convinced himself with a shake of his head. 

And yet, there was something that he could not quite put his finger on. It 
was indescribable - he could not have told another about it if he were 
asked to - and yet it was so faint that he was uncertain as to whether it was 
his imagination. Absentmindedly, Elrohir took his left hand from the reins 
and laid it across his chest, palm over sternum. The action surprised him, 
for it had been completely instinctive, and he frowned at himself for doing 
it. 

He was left no more time to dwell on the topic, however, for his horse 
suddenly whinnied and halted. Drawing his attentions back to the task in 
hand, Elrohir asked his horse to start moving forwards again and peered 
through the trees. At first he could see very little, save a flash of chestnut 
between the dripping leaves, but a foul curse left his mouth upon coming 
into full view of the scene before him. 

Arod was standing across the path, head down, grazing. His tack and coat 
were splattered with mud, in addition to being dripping wet. What 
panicked Elrohir most, however, was that one stirrup was flipped over the 
saddle, and it looked as though a handful of mane had been pulled out at 
the base of the neck, near the saddle. Looking down at the ground, Elrohir 
now noticed that the fading hoof prints veered suddenly sideways into the 
trees, before emerging again a few feet away. A horrible, sickening feeling 
rose in the pit of his stomach as a sense of foreboding swept over him. 

Legolas was nowhere to be seen. 


***************  
Chapter 7  
*************** 

There For You 

Aragorn stood, dejected and confused, at the foot of the stairs. He felt 
helpless, and his concern for both Elrohir and Legolas had grown three-
fold since the storm had come closer and the winds had picked up. He 
looked up questioningly at Glorfindel, who was regarding him curiously 
with one delicate golden eyebrow arched high. 

"The usual personality conflict?" questioned the Eldar, referring to the 
constant disagreements that used to occur between Elrond and Aragorn, 
when the Dunedan was growing up in Imladris. The King sighed and 
passed his hand over his face. 

"Aye, I suppose so," he answered vaguely, distracted as he was by his 
increasing anxiety. "But I do not understand - why did adar not wish me 
to go?" 

The blonde's expression was unreadable. "They will find them," he 
assured the Man tersely, pointedly ignoring the question, and then 
disappeared along one of the passageways leading from the entrance hall 
with Erestor hot on his heels. Aragorn sighed again, and was about to walk 
away when a pair of arms snaked around his waist from behind, calming 
and gentle. He melted back against Arwen's comforting presence. 

"He is right, they will find them," she murmured, and placed a tender kiss 
on his cheek. Aragorn distantly registered the irony in their reversal of 
positions; he had held her in this manner only the night before at the 
fireworks. He turned within the embrace, dropping his hands to her hips, 
and Arwen smiled at him lovingly, her arms still around his waist. 

The jade and stone regards locked together for many seconds as unspoken 
thoughts were exchanged, and finally Arwen moved one hand up to cradle 
the base of her husband's skull. She kissed him chastely, first on the 
forehead and then on the lips, before pulling his head down to her 
shoulder. 

The King sighed heavily, his breath brushing over the flawless creamy 
skin of her neck. "I fear for them," he admitted at last. "The weather out 
there is foul, and Legolas is still so weak...." 

Arwen sighed in turn, and raised a hand so that she could rub his back. He 
inhaled the scent of his Queen as she combed her fingers through his wet, 
raven hair; she always smelled fresh, of the forest, an aroma that never 
failed to soothe him. Arwen smiled wistfully down at him, and dropped a 
kiss to the dark crown as they held each other. 

*** 

Elrohir vaulted off his horse, ignoring the puddle that he landed in as 
water splashed everywhere and seeped in through his boots. He reached 
out and caught hold of Arod's reins, flipping them over the chestnut's head 
and encouraging him forwards. Arod looked startled and tried to back off, 
but Elrohir spoke softly to him and calmed him easily. Once the animal 
was a little more settled, the raven-haired Elf tied the reins to the low 
branch of a bush so that he could graze and vaulted back onto Rhossûl. He 
immediately wheeled her round on the spot and kicked her forwards, 
ducking into the trees off the side of the path. 

Dark eyes were everywhere at once, flicking from the hoof prints on the 
ground to the spaces between the trees, searching desperately for any sign 
whatsoever of the fallen Prince. Arod had obviously shied at something, 
Elrohir deduced, from the zigzag direction of the tracks, and it would 
appear from the pattern of hoof prints that the stallion had also been 
galloping. 

The tracks were leading him deep into the forest as he trotted through the 
trees, mindful of low branches waiting to sweep him from his horse. It was 
becoming darker and darker, now, as the trees became thicker and thicker; 
it was making it very difficult to see, and Elrohir found that, despite his 
sharp Elven eyesight, he had to strain his eyes in the gloom. 

Added to that, it was raining harder. Raindrops were blown into his face 
by the chill wind, water running from the end of his nose, and his dark hair 
was plastered to his face with water and spots of mud. Elrohir jumped and 
cursed as another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, immediately 
followed by violent clap of thunder. The storm was right overhead now, 
loud, angry and powerful, and there was still no sign of Legolas. He was 
beginning to truly fear for his friend. 

He waited until the next rumble of thunder had growled itself to death 
before he started to call out the Prince's name. "Legolas? Legolas, can you 
hear me? Where are you?" His words were only borne away on the wind 
and the frequent thunderclaps drowned him out, but nonetheless he kept 
trying, painfully aware of the unsteadiness of his voice and the panic in his 
tone. 

Suddenly, Elrohir noticed a change in the tracks; they veered sharply to 
the right, around the trunk of a large, old oak tree, and he had to gather 
Rhossûl almost to a halt so that he could steer round the corner in time to 
follow them. He pursued them for a few minutes longer, but soon became 
acutely aware that they had changed; judging by the sequence of the 
prints, Arod had slowed to a trot at this point, and the trail had become 
much less winding. In fact, they were leading in a large loop back towards 
the main path. Surely Legolas would not have fallen off at this point? 
Biting his lip in frustration, Elrohir whirled Rhossûl round on the spot and 
urged her back the way they had just come, now pushing into a canter. His 
eyes darted back and forth, straining to the point of discomfort in the 
shadows, but still there was nothing. 

Another enormous bolt of lightning lit up the sky, frightening even the 
usually steady Rhossûl, and causing her to start sideways. Elrohir kept his 
balance with ease, but was surprised when the mare leapt forwards this 
time, almost as though she had jumped an obstacle. His head snapped 
round over his shoulder to see what it was, just the next lightning bolt was 
born, and he instantly yanked his mare to a halt. Lying on the ground was 
a still, dark figure. 

Elrohir leapt from his horse so fast that he almost landed flat on his face. 
He abandoned the reins, trusting Rhossûl to stay by him, and dropped to 
his knees beside the fallen figure. 

"Legolas!" he called, grasping the Prince by the shoulder and turning him 
onto his side. "Legolas, wake up! Can you hear me?" He shook the 
shoulder gently and the Prince groaned softly, but he did not open his 
eyes. 

Elrohir laughed hysterically in relief to hear a sound, any sound, from his 
friend, and continued to speak to him. "Legolas, I know you're there - I 
want you to open your eyes for me, can you do that?" 

Another groan ensued from Legolas, who then coughed. Finally his 
eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes opened halfway to see Elrohir peering 
down at him. 

"Oh, thank Elbereth!" exclaimed the dark-haired Elf, almost collapsing in 
his relief. "Legolas, you scared me so much! Don't worry, everything will 
be fine - come on, sit up out of this mud. I want you to drink some of this." 

He slipped a hand behind Legolas' shoulders, and gently encouraged him 
to sit up. He then pulled a small silver flask from the pouch at his belt and 
unscrewed the lid, pressing it to the Prince's ashen lips. "Come on, just a 
mouthful - it's miruvor, it will help warm you." 

Legolas parted his lips obediently, and allowed Elrohir to trickle a little of 
the cordial into his mouth. It tasted sweet and heady, and did help to warm 
him - but only minutely. Shivers wracked his slender form. for he was 
frozen through, drenched and plastered with mud. His head was 
swimming, and he could not find the energy to speak, but he was grateful 
for the inane chatter that Elrohir was spouting; it gave him something to 
focus on. 

"Ada, Glorfindel, Estel and Elladan are already searching for you," Elrohir 
was saying as he removed his cloak and wrapped it tightly around 
Legolas. "Everyone else will be worried sick, we have to get you back to 
the house." 

This registered in Legolas' dazed brain, and he opened his mouth as 
though to speak. "I don't want t-to return...I d-don't want Aragorn." What 
came out was a hoarse whisper, his voice trembling dramatically, and he 
had to repeat it for Elrohir to hear him above the storm. The twin stopped 
his ministrations and fixed his eyes intensely on the Prince's own sapphire 
pair. 

"And I won't let him have you," he declared firmly, framing the ashen, 
mud streaked face with his hands. The skin was icy to his touch, although 
strangely it burned at the same time, but Legolas' wide-eyed, anxious 
expression dragged his mind away from this. "If you would have me, 
mellon-nîn, then I would have you." A soft, chaste kiss to the cold 
forehead and a finger on the pallid lips prevented further discussion "But 
now is neither the time nor the place to debate this. Up with you, and on 
my horse!" 

With that he pulled the Prince to his feet, holding him up as his knees 
shook beneath his weight. Rhossûl was a mere few steps away, but the 
manner in which Legolas was swaying left Elrohir with little doubt that he 
would not make it. So instead, he lifted the too-slender form into his arms 
and raised him up, then placed him gently in the saddle. The raven-haired 
Elf swung himself up afterwards, wrapping the cloak even tighter around 
Legolas and clutching him to his chest, lest he fall again. He then took the 
reins up in his spare hand, and pushed his horse back in the direction of 
the main path. 

To be continued... 

Elvish Translations: 

Mellon-nîn - my friend 

N/B: Miruvor was the cordial of Imladris, and is mentioned in FotR (the 
book, at least). It seemed to revive the Fellowship a little at Caradhras. 



***************  
Chapter 8  
*************** 

Not Now... 

Legolas was physically unable to keep himself on Elrohir's 
horse any longer, and had to rely on the twin to hold him in 
the saddle. The golden head lolled back against his friend's 
firm chest as Elrohir clutched at him tightly, and Legolas 
could feel his limbs becoming heavier and heavier. He was so 
cold, so tired... 

Elrohir glanced down at the Prince's face, and saw that the 
sapphire eyes were vacant and the lids half closed. A chord 
of panic struck in his chest, and he shook the other Elf gently 
as he tried to hide his anxiety. 

"Legolas? Legolas, wake up! Don't you go to sleep on me!" 

The eyelids fluttered a little, and the blue eyes became slightly 
more focused as the Prince shook his head weakly. "So 
tired..." he whispered. Elrohir's brow creased. 

"Nay, meldir, you cannot go to sleep just yet. Stay with me; 
talk to me." 

Legolas frowned in concentration; he wanted to obey his 
friend so much, but it was so hard when his head felt as 
though it was filled with cotton, and all he felt capable of was 
sleeping. Talking seemed impossible. There was an inviting 
blackness in the corners of his vision now, which was 
threatening to creep in around him. And it would be so easy 
to let it do so... 

Elrohir saw the Prince's eyes start to take on their blank 
appearance again and his eyelids beginning to sag, and he 
shook him again. "Come on, Legolas, don't give in!" Notes of 
panic were now starting to seep into his voice as he realised 
exactly how close to fading his best friend really was, and he 
kicked Rhossûl on even faster in the canter. "Stay awake, 
come on... I know!" A way for Elrohir to keep Legolas on 
the right side of consciousness came into his mind; he needed 
to give the Prince something to focus on. "Can you sing for 
me, Legolas? Will you sing?" 

Singing sounded plausible to Legolas, and he nodded feebly 
against Elrohir's chest. "Sing what?" 

Elrohir emitted a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, I don't know..." 
He wracked his brains for something - anything - for Legolas 
to sing, and found himself humming the first melody that came 
into his head. The low sounds rippled through the Prince's 
back, and Legolas laughed softly despite himself as he 
recognised the tune, interrupting the twin's crooning. 

"Frodo's song. I remember that story." He paused for a 
moment, a ghost of a smile playing across his haunted 
features, before he began to quietly chant the lyrics. 

There is an inn, a merry old inn  
beneath an old grey hill,  
And there they brew a beer so brown  
That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
one night to drink his fill. 

Suddenly he stopped singing, and pulled a face. "Ugh, I 
cannot see how they do it," he spat, his brow wrinkling in 
disgust. Elrohir raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "How who 
do what?" 

"Men and Hobbits... drink beer." 

The twin grinned and chuckled softly; he could only admire 
his friend for managing to maintain his sense of humour, even 
in such a situation as this. "It must be an acquired taste!" 

Legolas made another sound of disgust. "I know not why 
they would wish to acquire something such as that," he 
declared blearily, and then shook his head against his friend's 
chest, as if to clear it. It was such an effort staying awake, 
and everything was so confusing. "Why are we talking about 
beer?" 

"You started it!" stated Elrohir, feigning haughtiness. Legolas' 
thought patterns seemed to be rather muddled - although that 
was probably to be expected when he could barely lift his 
head of his own accord. Anyway, the twin decided that he 
much preferred semi-coherent ramblings to unconsciousness, 
and their usual banter was as good as anything. Legolas 
snorted in reply, and started to faintly hum the tune to himself 
again. 

They were nearing the main path by this point, and while the 
thinner trees made it easier to see, it was still raining heavily. 
The sky was dark with unspent storm clouds, and though that 
bitter wind still whistled around them, it was also sweeping 
away the worst of the storm. Elrohir clutched the Prince 
closer to him as they reached the path and rounded the 
corner - and then swore loudly as he realised that Arod was 
still tied to the branch of a tree. Legolas blinked in surprise at 
the curse that sounded in his ear, and stopped singing. 

Elrohir pulled Rhossûl to a halt next to the chestnut stallion, 
who had stopped grazing and lifted his head to see what was 
happening. The twin pushed the mare closer to Arod, and, 
extracting a knife from his belt as he leaned carefully over, 
swiftly sliced through the reins at the base of the bit ring. 

The shift of weight in the saddle and the slackening of 
support made Legolas sway uncertainly, and Elrohir had to 
sit up quickly in order to prevent him from falling. He settled 
the weakened Prince once more, and then turned back to 
Arod, whispering gently to him in Elvish. 

"Aphado men, Arod. Daro neva; lye auta bar." 

With that he turned Rhossûl on the spot and pushed her up 
into canter again. To Legolas' vague amazement, Arod 
turned and followed behind them. 

"Now I know why you are called "Elf-Knight"," muttered the 
blond sleepily. "To have mortal blood in your veins, and still 
have such control over an animal like that...it must be...I don't 
know." 

Elrohir laughed, and suddenly dropped a kiss to the hooded 
head. Legolas' eyes widened. "What was that for?" 

The twin shrugged as best he could whilst cantering along 
with an armful of largely immobile Elf. "I felt like it." Legolas 
smiled faintly. 

"You have never kissed me before." 

Elrohir looked down at him, expression dismayed, though the 
Prince was unable to see it. "What in Middle Earth are you 
talking about? I kissed you just a few minutes ago, and 
several times yesterday." //When I thought that I had 
almost lost you,// he failed to add. 

Legolas groaned softly; it was becoming increasingly difficult 
for him to express his already muddled thoughts, for the 
blackness was impinging more and more into his field of 
vision. And he was still so cold, so tired... 

"No, no," he insisted, "This one was different. It 
was...unprecedented. You-- " Abruptly, he stopped talking. 
A violent shiver rippled through his thin form, closely 
followed by two more, and a sudden change came over the 
fair Elf. He drew back against Elrohir's body, trying to gain 
whatever warmth he could from his friend, and clutched 
weakly at the arm around his middle with his hands. Daggers 
of ice had suddenly begun to pierce his skin, and his body felt 
completely deserted of warmth, save one burning spot just 
below his sternum. 

"Ai, Elrohir, I am s-so c-cold," he whimpered as another 
shiver took and shook his slim body. His teeth had begun to 
chatter as he shook, making his words difficult to distinguish. 
"S-so cold, so t-tired... what is h-happenin-ng?" 

Elrohir gritted his own teeth and squeezed the Prince tighter, 
rubbing as much of his body as he could with his free hand in 
an attempt to warm him. When Elven grief finally struck, it 
struck fast. Another glance down at the fair, mud-streaked 
face showed that the sapphire eyes were struggling to stay in 
focus, and the raven-haired twin started talking to his friend 
again in a last desperate attempt to keep him conscious. 
"Legolas, you have to fight this! We are almost home - don't 
let it take you now! Come on, meldir, mellon-nîn, 
maltaren-nîn, stay with me... stay with me..." 

Legolas was indeed fighting, though he had so little strength 
left to fight with. Vicious shivers wracked his entire body, so 
that he was now trembling ferociously in Elrohir's arms, and 
soft whimpers escaped his lips every now and then. His 
breathing was coming in short, sharp, shallow gasps as he 
shook, trying to catch a lungful of air. His mouth was moving 
as though he wanted to speak, although between the gasping 
and the chattering of teeth it was nearly impossible. 

Now frantic, Elrohir kicked his mare hard and forced her to 
gallop. The animal was tiring fast, but she seemed to 
understand the urgency of the situation and accelerated, even 
keeping her footing despite the slippery mud left by the rain. 
The twin bit his lip, and willed Legolas to fight just a little 
longer, for they were now not far away from the edge of the 
forest. "Legolas, I will bind to you out here if I need to, but I 
will not let you go!" he muttered through clenched teeth. The 
Prince coughed and gasped again; the shivers had now 
subsided a little, for his body had no strength to produce 
them any longer, and he still clutched feebly at the arm 
around his waist. Finally, though, he succeeded in drawing a 
large enough breath of air to allow him to speak a few 
words, and he squeezed Elrohir's hand to make certain that 
he was listening. The twin lowered his head. 

"Than-nk you... L-love y-you..." came the breath; it was a 
breath, because at long last the fair Prince was unable to 
ward off the blackness and the cold any longer, and his eyes 
fluttered shut. 

A sob threatened to choke Elrohir, and tears stung fiercely at 
his eyes, but he furiously blinked them away; he refused to 
lose Legolas, and as long as the Prince was breathing he still 
had a chance. Only slight shivers rippled the once-powerful 
muscles below the layers of clothing now, but the slim chest 
was still rising and falling. And at least the breathing was 
currently peaceful; those horrible gasps had made Elrohir's 
own heart ache with sorrow for the hapless figure in his arms. 

Determination now set his heart instead, and he urged his 
mare not to stop - //not far now, not far now.//So intent on 
reaching home was he that he galloped straight past the two 
dark riders coming towards him on the path, and failed to 
notice their presence until they had turned around and 
galloped up level with him. 

Elvish Translations: 
Meldir - friend  
Aphado men, Arod. Daro neva; lye auta bar. - Follow us, 
Arod. Stay close; we are going home.  
Maltaren-nîn - my golden Prince 

N/B: The song is taken from "The Fellowship of the Ring", 
Book I - "At the Sign of the Prancing Pony", and "Elf-
Knight" is the literal meaning of Elrohir according to Tolkien. 

***************  
Chapter Nine  
*************** 

"Elrohir!" 

The sound of his father's voice caused him to turn his head, 
and he saw that his father and brother were galloping on 
either side of him. The younger twin managed a dour smile, 
but did not falter once in the gallop. Legolas' body was 
lifeless in his arms, the hooded golden head nodding in time 
to the movement of the horse. The once-bright sapphire eyes 
were now fully closed, a worrying sign to any Elf, but the 
slight rise and fall of the slim chest gave Elrohir just the tiniest 
spark of hope. 

Elrond's heart fell into his feet at the sight of Mirkwood's 
Prince in his son's arms. Legolas looked little more than a 
wet and battered doll, ashen and mud-streaked. The eternal 
flame of his spirit was almost totally extinguished now, aided, 
no doubt, by the rain and the wind. It would not be long... 

From the other side of the younger twin, Elladan felt the 
same. He could also see that Rhossûl was tiring, and called 
out to his brother. 

"Elrohir! Give him to us! Our horses are fresher than yours - 
we will get him to Estel faster." 

Both Elrond and Elrohir shot him a filthy look. "I told Estel 
not to come for a reason, Elladan!" yelled the Lord of 
Imladris, struggling to make himself heard as the words were 
ripped from his mouth by the rain and the speed at which 
they were galloping. Elrohir nodded in agreement, though he 
did not take his eyes from the path ahead; they were almost 
at the edge of the forest now. 

"He does not want, Estel! That much should be obvious by 
now!" he shouted in turn. "He loves //me//." 

Elladan looked taken aback at the sudden possessiveness in 
his usually quiet and passive brother's voice. "You are not 
going to bind him to you?" Elrohir looked dreadful; Elladan 
was unsure if his brother was strong enough. He looked 
frozen through and shaken up - understandably, of course, 
but it would make things more difficult none the less. He 
wore no cloak, which he appeared to have wrapped around 
Legolas, and his clothes were drenched, his skin nearly as 
pale as the Prince's. 

That pallid face, fretful in its determination, was briefly turned 
towards him at the question, and blackened eyes flashed. "I 
see no other way around this," came the reply, simple, though 
powerful enough to halt any other questions. 

Or almost. 

"You are not strong enough!" cried the elder twin in dismay, 
unable to contain himself. He could not face the thought of 
losing his brother. "Remember Ada and Glorf--" A vicious 
glare from his father did silence him this time, and his face 
took on a wide-eyed expression. Elrohir ignored him, and 
kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead; he could now see the 
edge of the forest, and the trees were thinning out as they 
neared it. 

In his arms, Legolas whimpered suddenly, almost inaudibly. 
The sound was heart-rending, and Elrohir kissed his cheek 
lovingly. "Not long now, maltaren-nîn," he murmured gently, 
pressing his own cheek firmly against the side of the Prince's 
head as a measure of comfort - though whether it was for 
Legolas' benefit or his own he was unable to tell. The simple 
gesture did, in fact, ease his heart a little, though he could not 
have explained it for a Silmaril. Or perhaps he could... 

That nagging sensation behind his ribs, eased by his proximity 
to the Prince; his fatigue, and feeling cold, and now that 
ominous tugging that he could feel on nowhere in particular 
throughout his body. He knew not when the latter had 
appeared, but he had certainly not had it before he found 
Legol... //Damn! Grief - Arwen was right. //

With one last dogged burst, he kicked his mare again. The 
clatter of hooves erupted around them; they had reached the 
road that led through the city. The streets were empty by this 
point, for no one had any desire to stay out in the foul 
weather for longer than necessary, though a few curious 
noses appeared over windowsills as they reached the 
outskirts of the city. The three riders bolted along the narrow 
lanes, still closely followed by one loose chestnut stallion, and 
Elrohir could not help but wryly think what a sight they must 
have made. They ducked and dived through the streets that 
would lead them to the Last Homely House as quickly as 
possible, but in the opinions of the twins and their father it 
took far too long for them to reach the short path that 
approached the house. 

The four sets of hooves made an awful, echoing din as they 
finally galloped into the main front yard. Elrohir nearly fell off 
his horse in relief, but remained mounted until his father and 
brother had jumped from and abandoned their mounts so 
that they could help Legolas down. Reluctantly, Elrohir 
released his grip on the Prince, and allowed Elrond to gently 
take him into his arms. The younger twin then leaped from his 
own horse, sparing her a grateful pat as he did. 

He stumbled a little upon landing, and Elladan instantly 
placed a hand upon his waist to steady him. Elrohir irritably 
brushed away the hand, turning instead and racing up the 
steps after his father. With a pained look and a heavy sigh, 
Elladan followed, leaving the horses to be tended by the 
grooms. 

Elrond had headed straight for the Halls of Fire, uncaring of 
who else might be in there - anyway, it was the middle of the 
day and it should be empty. Right now, the only thing that 
mattered was getting Legolas somewhere warm. And then 
getting Elrohir there with him. 

A glance behind showed that both his sons were right on his 
heels, jogging to keep up with their father's long steps as he 
strode along the corridor with the weightless, lifeless Prince in 
his arms. They rounded the corner, and walked straight 
through the large, open doors that led into the Halls of Fire; 
to Elrond's relief there were very few people there - in fact, 
only Aragorn and Arwen. 

Both got to their feet anxiously when the Lord of Imladris 
entered the room, tailed by his sons, and with Legolas 
unconscious in his arms. Arwen covered her mouth at the 
sight of the Prince, and, to Elrond's total astonishment, 
Aragorn looked as though he was about to burst into tears. 

"Oh, gods, Legolas," he whispered hoarsely as his foster-
father swept past him and up to the huge fire burning in the 
grate. There were numerous furs and cushions lain out before 
the hearth, and gently, ever so gently, Elrond knelt and set 
Legolas down upon them. He then began to strip away the 
layers of sodden clothing, flinging them to one side in a 
forgotten heap as he started to call out orders. 

"Right, someone get some more logs for this fire; I want it as 
hot as you can get it. Elladan, go and fetch Glorfindel and 
Erestor - try the library. And Elrohir, get over here if you're 
going to do this." 

His words were obeyed immediately; Elladan vanished, and 
Arwen began to throw more wood onto the fire. Elrohir was 
instantly at the Prince's side, kneeling on the furs next to the 
prone form and bending over him, whispering softly. 

"Legolas, can you hear me? We're home now, we're home, 
you're going to be fine." He bowed his dark head, hair still 
sodden, and began to plant soft, tender kisses over the ashen 
face to punctuate his words. "You're safe now, maltaren-
nîn, you're safe; I won't let him have you, do you hear me? 
I'm going to save you, I won't let him have you." 

Elrond ignored the exchange as he continued peeling away 
wet clothes, whilst Aragorn stood watching the scene 
dejectedly. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly, 
desperate for anything to do that might help; the sense of guilt 
that he felt was overwhelming. Elrohir ignored the question, 
whilst Elrond shook his head distractedly. 

"No, Estel, not right now," he muttered, finally removing 
Legolas' leggings and throwing a warmed blanket over the 
now-naked body. Another shudder shook the skinny figure, 
and Elrohir looked up in panic. He had felt another tug on 
that intangible part of his body, more forceful this time, and 
knew that he had to do something right then. 

"Ada, I have to do this now!" he insisted, moving so that he 
was kneeling with one leg either side of Legolas' hips and 
extracting his knife from his belt. "He will not last much 
longer!" 

He stretched over the stone hearth and held the blade of his 
knife into the flames of the fire, until Elrond caught his wrist, 
forcing his son to look at him. 

"Elrohir, are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was 
deadly serious, with traces of nothing less than fear. 

"Aye, 'tis very dangerous," agreed a deep, musical voice 
from the doorway. Glorfindel. 

The blond strode over to the fireplace, concern etched all 
over his handsome features, and bent over the three figures 
on the furs. He cocked his head at the younger twin, placing 
a hand on his shoulder, and then spared a sorrowful glance at 
the dying Prince. "But you are right, you have to do it now. 
Do it properly, and do it well. I have faith in you." 

Elrohir managed the weakest trace of a smile - trust the Eldar 
to spout such words of wisdom at a time like this. He 
clasped Glorfindel's hand briefly, and then turned to his 
father. "And you, Ada? Do you have faith in me?" he asked 
shakily. Elrond smiled. 

"Every faith, gwenneth," he replied resolutely, leaning over 
and kissing his son's forehead. "If you are certain, then I 
believe in you. I shall be back in half an hour. Good luck, and 
I love you." 

"'Love you too," returned the twin, relieved a little, at least, 
and turned back to hold his blade in the fire as he heard 
receding footsteps and the doors close behind him. 

Elvish Translations: 

Gwenneth - younger twin (a childhood endearment for 
Elrohir) 

***************  
Chapter Ten  
*************** 

Fusion 

Elrohir held the blade in the flames until it was glowing, 
keeping a firm grip on the hilt despite the heat that was being 
conducted through it. Finally, when it was hot enough, he 
extracted it, and bent over Legolas again. In the few 
moments it had taken him to heat and sterilise the blade, the 
Prince's lips had taken on a bluish tinge and his breathing had 
slowed even more. Elrohir grabbed Legolas' left hand and 
turned it so that the palm was facing up; he then took the 
knife, still glowing, and slowly, deliberately, scored a line 
about half an inch deep across the whole diagonal width of 
the flesh. 

Now taking the blade in his left hand and laying Legolas' 
down for a second, the twin did the same to his own right 
hand. The metal was hot and bit sharply into his flesh, but he 
simply grimaced and bore it, as bright red blood sprang up 
amidst the pale skin. Swiftly picking up Legolas' hand again, 
so that as little blood as possible was wasted, he pressed the 
two matching gashes together and raised their arms up high, 
interlacing their long, elegant fingers together. 

The blood of Legolas' that made contact with his skin was 
icy cold, and it almost took Elrohir's breath away. He did 
not, however, take his hand away, instead holding the 
Prince's arm well above his heart and allowing his own 
heated blood to flow down into the chill form. He could still 
feel that ominous tug on his spirit, which was now becoming 
stronger and stronger as his life essence flowed into the dying 
Prince, and soon he had to bow his head in concentration as 
he pulled against the tow. 

The blood began to bang in his ears; he could hear the 
rhythmic thump of what must have been a heart, though for 
some reason there was also a patter in the background. 
Elrohir squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus on the 
slow, steady beat as the pull increased again and the heat 
began to leach from his flesh. It was because of this that he 
failed to notice when the patter in the background started to 
become louder, less erratic, until at last it was beating in time 
with the other heart. The two drums resounded through every 
fibre of his being; he could almost feel his body vibrating with 
each thump. And the pull, still towing, tugging, sweeping the 
warmth out of his body, pulling him forwards to Mandos 
knows where with its forceful, intangible current, making it 
harder and harder for him to resist. It was winning, despite all 
his valiant efforts; it drew him forwards into the blackness as 
he weakened, almost unable to fight any longer... 

At a loss for anything else to do, though still refusing to let 
Legolas go, Elrohir began to whisper an ancient prayer to the 
Valar. 

"Valarllo, ya vanessë antaë ninna, á lavë lelyaës. Á lavë 
náë engaiës." 

Over and over he whispered the prayer, willing that it would 
reach them and that pity would be taken upon them. But still 
the pull increased, until finally he could hold on no longer... 

Then it faded. Not to nothingness; not at all. It was definitely 
still there, nagging and threatening in the backdrop, but not to 
the extent that Elrohir had to fight with his spirit to prevent it 
from claiming Legolas'. He forced himself to open his eyes, 
afraid of what he might see, but nearly fainted in relief when 
he noticed that the dark eyelashes had fluttered against the 
still pallid skin. Legolas gasped, and coughed a little, before 
finally allowing his eyes to open halfway and gaze blearily up 
at the raven-haired Elf. Elrohir choked back a sob and 
swooped down to shower kisses over the gaunt, bemused 
face, though without relinquishing the life-giving contact of 
their palms. 

"Oh, thank the Valar, Legolas! You scared me so much!" he 
cried between kisses, before he finally stopped and pressed 
their noses close together, whispering against the lips that had 
retained at least a touch of their natural colour. "Don't worry, 
maltaren-nin, you're safe now, you're safe. Estel won't have 
you any more." 

Legolas smiled feebly, almost falsely, against Elrohir's lips, 
though his eyes held traces of confusion and trepidation. "But 
then who would?" he murmured, his voice hoarse and 
cracked, weak. Elrohir instantly kissed him to silence. 

"I would have you!" he murmured back against the Prince's 
mouth, noses still touching. "Did you hear nothing I said? I 
would never let you go, not to something like this. Trust me, 
meldir, I am not doing this out of a sense of duty - I...I love 
you too." 

The face of the golden-haired Elf lit up with a brilliant, earnest 
smile - possibly the most beautiful thing Elrohir had ever 
seen, he decided, despite the weariness, the pallor, and the 
shadows marring the fair features. Then, before he knew 
what was happening, Legolas had shakily raised his free arm, 
still bandaged at the forearm, and entangled his fingers in 
Elrohir's sodden, raven tresses as he pulled the twin close for 
a kiss of his own accord. It was tentative, though both Elves 
trembled in its wake, and finally Legolas muttered, "Have me 
then, since you would." 

Elrohir pulled back, beaming, and inadvertently pulling 
Legolas' arm up with him as he failed to release their hands. 
With a slightly anxious glance at their joined palms, he 
hesitantly opened his fingers and broke the contact. The pull 
instantly faded again as scarlet blood stained creamy-white 
skin, the channel created so that the essence of one body 
could flow into the other being interrupted. Legolas 
shuddered a little and twitched, his skin blanching back 
another degree, but when, after an uneasy interlude, he 
remained conscious and coherent, Elrohir hastily began to 
remove his sodden clothes and throw them to one side. 

Finally divested of the soggy fabric, he returned to kneel over 
Legolas' hips and interlaced the fingers of their cut hands 
once again. The pull returned once more, and for a second 
he had to resist it as before, but when it died back again he 
relaxed and turned to other important tasks. Light from the 
flames danced over his pale skin as he leaned forwards over 
the Prince, chocolate eyes mimicking the effect in the doting 
gaze, and both smiled again as lips met once more. 

This kiss was deep and passionate, enough so to create 
sparks of energy between the pair as lips parted and tongues 
met. First contact, however, was followed by a gasp from 
each pair of lips. Elrohir pulled back in surprised 
bewilderment and gazed down at Legolas in wonder. 

"Do...do you think..." he began, unsure of what to say, 
exactly. 

"...we will feel each other's pleasure too?" finished Legolas, 
gripping the twin's hand tighter as their blood continued to 
flow between them. Elrohir nodded, smiling in anticipation, 
and the Prince beamed back. "There is only one way to find 
out!" 

The raven-haired Elf lowered his head at that, and claimed 
Legolas' lips once more, as passionate and deep as before, 
yet tender and sweet in the same instant. A pleasant tingle, 
twice magnified, spread through the flesh of each Elf, 
warming as it went. Legolas shuddered again, appreciatively, 
returning the kiss as best he could at the same time. It was 
difficult in the presence of the tow, though it had been greatly 
lessened since Elrohir had helped him to fight it, and his body 
was still so tired, so cold... 

However, the problem of returning the kiss was soon solved 
for him as the twin abandoned his mouth and began to trail 
perfect, delicate butterfly kisses along the angular jaw line 
instead. The Prince turned his head into the contact, and 
Elrohir found that he could feel a minute, pleasurable shiver in 
his own body every time his lips met skin. 

He soon discovered himself moving lower and lower, until he 
reached the blanket that covered the Prince's body, to about 
halfway up his chest. Sweeping it a little lower so that it was 
out of his way, the twin now hesitantly began to discover the 
slim planes of chest. His tongue flicked out of his mouth 
experimentally, to swipe at the bud of a nipple; Legolas 
arched into it as much as his stiff, unresponsive body would 
allow, and Elrohir felt a wave of pleasure wash over him 
again. He smiled, first to himself and then at the Prince, 
before he lowered his head again and began to skilfully tease 
the pert flesh, kissing, licking and sucking until both bodies 
were thrumming pleasantly. 

Finally, he lifted his head and moved back up to meet the 
blond's lips, claiming them once more in a soul-searching 
kiss. He was not surprised to find that his member was erect, 
after the unusual sensation of feeling pleasure such as that 
reciprocated, and was even less surprised to find that 
Legolas was also hard, the firm flesh pressing up through the 
blanket. The Prince moaned softly into Elrohir's mouth and 
entangled the fingers of his right hand in the dark hair once 
more. That sensation alone was almost overwhelming, as the 
blood of the twin warmed his chilly flesh and re-kindled his 
guttering eternal flame, in combination with the doubled 
pleasure of the kiss. He tingled and trembled all over, his kiss 
becoming more and more passive as his member stirred to 
full hardness and the pull weakened a little more, until finally 
Elrohir pulled away from him, gasping for breath. 

A quiet whimper of protest left the Prince's reddening lips, 
and the raven-haired twin smiled indulgently down at him. 
Skin flickered in the firelight and dark eyes danced as 
Legolas gazed back up at the exotic beauty of his newfound 
lover, his closest friend, and discovered that he could not 
help but smile back. "Vanima," he whispered softly, 
reaching up to snatch more of that delicious lip contact that 
sent shivers through both their forms. "Vanima ve' tindome. 
Garo amin, Aduial, im anta lle sii', saes... Melo nin..." 

Elrohir's eyes lit up at the request. "Ilyamenie," he 
murmured back, before claiming those lips, so very nearly 
lost, in his own once more. This time, however, his left hand 
slipped down the Prince's body to find the blanket, and he 
stood up so he could push it away and onto the floor. The 
now-naked skin of both their hips made contact for the first 
time when Elrohir resumed his position, straddling the blond, 
for this time he allowed himself to sit down fully on Legolas' 
legs. He wiggled a little to make himself comfortable, but 
whilst doing so their erections collided and rubbed together 
exquisitely. Soft gasps of pleasure left both pairs of kiss-
bruised lips, before Elrohir brought his free hand up to grasp 
both shafts of hot flesh and started to stroke them together. 

The delicious friction sent judders through both slender 
bodies as Elrohir caressed the columns together, and 
memories of the shared pull on their spirits flew to the back 
of their minds in favour of this new sensation. Drops of 
crystalline liquid leaked from each, and Legolas bucked his 
hips helplessly as his raven-haired lover flicked his thumb 
over the heads, intermingling the first pearls of their essence. 
He continued to tease and torment the Prince, although the 
feeling was more than reciprocated on himself, and finally the 
pair was left taut, gasping, floating, with only the thumping 
contact of their bleeding palms to ground them. 

At last, Elrohir removed his left hand and shifted his hips 
away from Legolas'. The Prince moaned in frustration and 
tightened his shaking grip on the twin's hand, peering up at 
him with imploring, lust-darkened blue eyes. "Saes, Aduial," 
he whispered again, his voice deep and rough by this point. 
"Sii', im lle gara sii'... Im tyava ta sal'... Ta tuka..." 

Elrohir understood at once, for he could also still feel it - 
magnified, no doubt, by the blood flowing between them and 
their hearts still beating in time. 

"Ai'nad," he murmured back, slipping his free hand down to 
spread the Prince's legs and then further to caress the cleft 
behind. "Ai'nad, ilyamenie - Im ta tyava vithel." 

His fingers still slick with their first drops of seed, Elrohir 
gently slid past the tight ring of muscle, soon encouraged to 
add another by Legolas' sigh of satisfaction. He scissored 
and probed with utmost care, ensuring that he found and 
stroked that spot which made the blond call out softly, ever 
so softly, as though it were to him alone. The sound was 
musical, exquisite - a voice heard far too little over the 
previous weeks and a voice Elrohir had never thought he 
would hear again. Oh, to play more of that beautiful music... 

Finally sure that his golden Prince, his Greenleaf, would feel 
no pain from this - for surely such a perfect creature, who 
had already suffered so much in the cruel hands of fate, 
deserved to feel no pain - Elrohir replaced the cruel hands 
with his own tender pair, the pain with his pleasure and the 
suffering with his spirit. He filled the Prince, in every possible 
way that he could, sliding into him painlessly and tenderly, 
and with a dual ecstasy that rippled through every fibre of his 
very being. And then he moved, rocking his hips with long, 
slow strokes and feeling his blood pulse further through his 
lover; moving to a united rhythm that pounded in two pairs of 
perfectly pointed ears. 

And all the while the music played, soft and smooth and rich, 
intended only for the ears of the other. Music played, musical 
gasps, whilst flesh warmed and coloured once more in the 
dancing flames of the fire, dancing as though they were 
celebrating the intermingling of souls. The souls intertwined as 
Elrohir moved, basking in the sweet music and that beautiful 
warmth that surrounded him - that //was// him. At that 
moment, it was what he lived for, that tightness and that all-
encompassing heat, and the unique feeling of thrusting and 
being thrust into, as Legolas writhed below him in complete 
and utter ecstasy. 

Two souls wrapped around each other as their bodies 
joined, ebony enveloping gold; polishing it, making it bright 
once more by using its very self, until the two became the 
one. And the one, now ebony and gold in the same instant, 
trembled, as each became the other for a split of a second, 
feeling what he felt, and the other felt, and more. Elrohir 
gasped at the moment of fusion, instinctively claiming 
Legolas' lips once again as the Prince gasped back and 
gripped the twin's hand with all the strength in his body that 
existed, and had been given to him. Wetness spread between 
them and into them, each still feeling the same as the other, 
for they were still as one. The souls fused, melded into one of 
darkness and light 

Then finally they split and fell, Elrohir collapsing forwards 
onto Legolas in total exhaustion. They were two again, now, 
though each held part of the other, and still they clasped the 
other's hand. That pounding contact, constant throughout, 
was then all that existed for a time, all that reached them 
through the darkness... 

Eventually, though, the darkness faded, and Elrohir became 
aware of his surroundings once again. He was still lying atop 
Legolas' chest, the blond Elf breathing calmly and deeply 
underneath him and his eyes closed. A soft, pale radiance 
was radiating from the Prince's cream skin as he dozed and 
floated in his afterglow - in Elrohir's afterglow - something 
that the twin now realised he had failed to notice was missing. 
He laughed quietly to himself, lifting his head wearily to 
regard the beautiful, peaceful face in awe. His heart leapt in 
his chest at the very sight; although the features were still 
pinched and the spirit obviously far from healed, they no 
longer appeared haunted or lifeless, the full, pink lips, once 
tinged with blue, parted enticingly. Legolas looked alive 
again, given light anew, and whilst it would take weeks for 
that light to be regained to the levels the Prince once 
possessed, there was now hope. 

Looking down dotingly at Legolas whilst he dozed, Elrohir 
bowed his head and chastely kissed the high forehead. At the 
touch of his lips to skin, however, the brilliant sapphire eyes 
fluttered slowly open and Legolas gazed back up at his 
newfound lover. Sleepy smiles slid across both their faces, 
and Elrohir unwound his right fingers from the blond's left at 
last so that he could caress that stunning face. His eye, 
however, was instantly drawn to his palm, and chocolate 
orbs were turned to it. 

"Look," he murmured in amazement to the Prince, showing 
him his palm. "Healed - and you too." 

Blue eyes flicked across to the inside of both hands, widening 
when they saw that the ebony-haired twin was correct. Too 
drained to answer, however, his only response was a soft, 
sated sigh, and Elrohir chuckled as he pressed his lips to 
Legolas' once more. 

Then, succumbing to the deep sleep that beckoned to him 
oh-so appealingly, the twin covered both their exhausted 
figures with another blanket and settled down next to his 
Prince, finally falling happily asleep with legs entangled and 
healed palms clasped, fingers interlaced. 

Elvish Translations: 

Valarllo, ya vanessë antaë ninna, á lavë lelyaës. Á lavë 
náë engaiës - By the Valar, what grace has given to me, let 
it be passed to him. Let him be spared (shamelessly stolen 
from the film and translated into Quenya) 

Vanima - Beautiful 
Vanima ve' tindome - Beautiful like the starry evening 
Garo amin, Aduial, im anta lle sii', saes... Melo nin... - 
Have me, Twilight, I need you now, please... Love me... 
Ilyamenie - Always 
Sii', im lle gara sii'... Im tyava ta sal'... Ta tuka... - Now, I 
need you now... I can feel it still... It pulls... 
Ai'nad - Anything 
Im ta tyava vithel - I can feel it too 

***************  
Chapter Eleven  
*************** 

Liar, Liar
 
Almost before the doors had closed on the couple in front of 
the fire, Arwen uttered a soft, low cry of pent-up dismay, 
and threw herself into Elladan's arms. Surprised at the 
uncharacteristic display, yet grateful at the same instant, her 
brother took her and held her close, burying his face in her 
shoulder as she did the same to him. Together, they held 
each other, consoling and convincing themselves that their 
brother and his lover would be all right. 

Elrond watched his son and daughter for a moment, the hint 
of a tight, wry smile playing over his lips, before he turned 
without a word and walked along the corridor, motioning for 
all to follow him. Glorfindel was instantly at his heels, pursued 
at a short distance by Arwen and Elladan, and, at a further 
distance, Aragorn. Erestor remained a subtle way outside the 
hall, to ensure that none entered the occupied chambers. The 
half-Elf led the others towards his study, in the hope of some 
privacy from the more trivial workings of the kingdom for a 
time, and a place for discussion and waiting. 

Aragorn was the last to enter his foster-father's study, his 
head hanging and his shoulders as slumped as if they carried 
the entire weight of Arda upon them. He closed the door 
with a soft click, and turned to see the scene that awaited 
him. Elladan and Arwen were sitting stiffly side by side on the 
edge of the sofa under the window, hands clasped tightly 
together. Elrond perched on the edge of his desk, his 
knuckles white as he clenched at the wood, and with 
Glorfindel hovering just to his right. All eyes flicked to the 
King as he stood by the door, then gradually fell away, and 
had Aragorn had Anduril with him he would gladly have 
sliced the strained atmosphere to relieve the tension as a 
heavy silence descended. 

No one spoke for several minutes, each holding their tense 
positions as they gazed into nothingness, lost in their thoughts. 
Eventually, though, Elrond heaved a long, shuddering sigh, 
rousing each from their musings, and they looked at him 
expectantly. 

"So, we wait," he remarked quietly, his voice tired and tight. 
In one subtle step, Glorfindel had moved next to him and 
covered one hand clutching the wood with his own. Elrond 
glanced down at it, and his eyes lit up a little; it was the 
Eldar's left hand, Vilya prominent upon it for all who cared to 
notice. Smiling slightly, the half-Elf looked up once more, 
then passed his hand wearily over his face as he realised that 
Aragorn was still on his feet. 

"Estel, please, sit down," he offered as he gestured with his 
free hand. The King, who had been leaning against the closed 
door, stood up straight and moved to an armchair nearby. 
He collapsed bodily into it, shoulders sagging and legs 
splayed most inelegantly, propping his elbow on the armrest 
and supporting his brow in his hand. A few more moments of 
silence followed, and then he looked up through his fingers at 
his foster-father, one word evident upon his lips. 

"Why?" 

Elrond sighed; he knew that this would come sooner or later. 
"Legolas obviously does not wish to be with you, Estel," he 
pointed out gently, feeling Glorfindel's hand tighten over his 
own as both Elven-lords noticed the spark of... //what? 
Guilt? Self-loathing?// pass over the Man's face. Arwen 
caught it, too, and with a peck to Elladan's cheek she rose 
and walked over to her husband's chair. Looking up at her, 
he smiled weakly and shifted position so that she could settle 
herself into his lap. His strong arms snaked around the waist 
of his beloved, and he inhaled her scent as he held her close, 
her arms moving to wrap around his neck. 

"I know that, now," he murmured after a moment, his stony 
grey eyes deep and sad. "I am so sorry..." 

The Lord of Imladris sighed and pinched the bridge of his 
nose, closing his eyes momentarily. "'Twas not all your fault, 
Estel, do not blame yourself for it," he admitted finally. Much 
as the half-Elf himself would have liked to blame Aragorn for 
this, he reluctantly conceded to the fact that no one person 
was to blame. Aragorn had done as he had eventually seen 
fit, when it came to the crux of the moment; Legolas had 
certainly not objected to being saved at the time. And then 
there was the encouragement, the urging, from himself, 
Glorfindel and Arwen - yet when the King had finally done 
what was being requested of him, it had all backfired, and 
now here was another placing his life on the line to save the 
Prince's. No wonder Aragorn felt so dejected. 

He hated to admit it, but Elrond now realised that it was he 
who had unwittingly caused all this damage, and cast his eyes 
to the floor. If only he had let Elrohir save Legolas the first 
time around... 

Glancing up once more, he noticed his elder son still sitting 
alone on the sofa. "Elladan, would you leave us for a 
moment?" he requested softly of the twin. His son looked up, 
surprised, then got to his feet a little stiffly. 

"Aye, of course," he muttered, voice tight, "I shall go and find 
Erestor, then..." 

Covering the space to the door in a few long strides and 
slipping out, Elrond barely had time to notice the hurt 
expression on the twin's face and his offended posture as the 
door clicked closed. Glorfindel had kept a firm grip on his 
hand throughout, for which he was most grateful, since even 
through such a minute amount of contact he could feel the 
strength of his saviour ebbing into him. The sapphire eyes, 
however, had followed Elladan to the door, and only now 
flicked back across to his lord; Elrond caught his eye and 
nodded apologetically. Without a word, the golden-haired 
Eldar leaned over and pressed a loving kiss to the half-Elf's 
brow, before he also stood and left the room. 

Elrond turned now to face Aragorn and Arwen, the King 
holding his Queen tight as though he would never let her go, 
with her settled back comfortably against him. The Elven-
lord's eyes were sad and watery as regarded the couple, 
silent for another few moments afore he spoke. 

"Elrohir should have done this before," he murmured, musical 
voice melancholy. "You should never have had to choose like 
that. If only I had thought a little more clearly, then this would 
never have happened. But now..." he paused and closed his 
eyes briefly, his words tailing off. "Now, I...they..." 

"Do not talk as if they are already dead, Ada, for the love of 
Elbereth!" exclaimed Arwen, releasing her arms from around 
her husband's neck as she flew to her feet and moved to 
stand in front of the desk. This turn of events had left her 
unusually flustered, a far cry from her customary gentle 
disposition. "You said yourself that you had faith in him - nay, 
that you had EVERY faith! They are both strong! Surely they 
can overcome this with ease?" Her jade eyes glistened 
brightly as she stood before her father, imploring, desperate, 
and searching for a glimmer of hope and support, of 
confirmation. 

Elrond cast his gaze to the floor and shook his head, 
whispering softly, "I cannot give you false hope, Arwen, I am 
sorry. Legolas was dying in there; how could you not see 
that? I can but hope, can but pray, that they will come 
through this; there is, of course, a chance. It has happened 
before now, and it will happen again." He lifted his eyes from 
the flagstones once more, the deep brown orbs forced as 
neutral and impassive as his features. "You are correct, when 
you say that Elrohir is strong. Yet I fear that the pull is 
stronger." 

Arwen uttered a choked cry and stumbled back a step or 
two, right into the waiting arms of her husband, who had 
stood up and caught her, holding her protectively close to his 
chest. 

"How can you speak such harsh words, father?" she gasped; 
her voice had risen several tones in her distress. The half-Elf 
raised an eyebrow. 

"You expect me to lie to you?" he intoned incredulously. 
"What is the point? By the grace of the Valar, it will not come 
to that. But do not disregard the notion altogether, is all that I 
ask." 

Arwen sniffed softly from Aragorn's arms, though her tears 
did not fall through sheer strength of will. "I never did," she 
murmured, eyes wide and haunted. "I never forgot that...and 
neither did I ask you to lie to me. Just...just do not speak as 
though they are already dead." 

Elrond nodded once in agreement. Aragorn remained silent; 
he could not bring himself to give voice to any one of the 
innumerable thoughts churning inside his head at that precise 
moment. Instead, he regarded his foster father, 

The raw emotions in the chocolate eyes and the pale face 
caught him off guard, expertly schooled to impassiveness as 
they had been just minutes before. Pain and fear lingered 
over the ageless features, which right now seemed caught in a 
moment that he would much rather forget. To the Man, the 
half-Elf seemed deeply unsettled, but not from the events of 
the present day; they seemed...haunted, almost. 

Then it struck him. //He remembers. //

Glancing over to Elrond, Aragorn's grey eyes met his foster-
father's chocolate pair, and he tilted his head to show that he 
understood - in part, at least. Pushing Arwen away from him 
and holding her by the shoulders so he could see into her 
face, the King then smiled down at her sadly and kissed her 
forehead soothingly. 

"Come, let us go outside for a moment," he suggested subtly, 
whilst urging her gently towards the door with one hand still 
on her shoulders. A weak smile of acquiescence slid over her 
lips, and she did as she was bid. 

As they left without another word, Aragorn was careful to 
leave the door wide open. He had seen Glorfindel sitting on 
the floor in the passageway the minute he had opened it, and 
noted the way in which the blond's wide, azure eyes snapped 
over to the door in concern. The King sent the Eldar a 
meaningful look as he turned down the corridor, and tried not 
to smile as he sensed the tall figure spring to his feet and 
stride towards his lord's study. 

*** 

Elrond looked up as Glorfindel swept into the room, and 
smiled wistfully at him. He had not moved from his position 
on the edge of the desk. 

The blond closed the door firmly behind him and stepped up 
beside the half-Elf, holding out his arms. Without a second 
thought, Elrond moved into the awaiting embrace and melted 
towards the warm, strong body of his lover; Glorfindel 
practically cocooned him, wrapping his long arms around the 
dark-haired half-Elf. He pressed his cheek against the still 
damp raven locks as Elrond nuzzled at the crook of his 
shoulder, stroking the back beneath his hands with long, 
slow, soothing strokes. 

The Eldar did not bother to ask his lover what had passed 
between the three of them whilst he was sitting outside, for he 
knew that if Elrond wanted him to know, he would tell him. 
The half-Elf in his arms smiled wanly against the blond's 
shoulder as his back was rubbed, but much as he would have 
liked to stay in the safety of his lover's arms, drawing on the 
strength of his saviour, Elrond pulled away after just a few 
brief moments. Something much more pressing was weighing 
on his mind. 

"It is almost time," he stated softly, glancing at the clock for 
emphasis. Twenty-five minutes of the promised half an hour 
had passed. "I want to wait outside." Glorfindel nodded, but 
did not release his lover just yet. Instead, he dipped his 
golden head, covering Elrond's lips as a measure of comfort 
for the half-Elf as he kissed him sweetly and deeply. It did 
not last long, but Elrond felt his spirits had lifted by some 
minute degree as the Eldar drew back. 

"Come, then," muttered the blond, laying one arm over his 
lover's shoulder and leading him towards the door. Elrond 
sighed heavily, and complied. The anticipation was killing 
him. 

To be continued... 


***************
Chapter Twelve
***************

A Nervous Wreck

Elladan silently bit his tongue as he exited his father's study and made his 
way back down the corridor that led to the Halls of Fire, unconsciously 
dragging his feet as he went. His nerves were in shreds; Arwen's unusually 
childish and emotional behaviour had seen to that. He was tired, he was 
cold, and he was wet. He was scared, worried and generally - naturally - 
upset by the whole ordeal. And he was lonely.

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the bench in the chamber outside the Hall 
of Fire, forgetting that he had originally come there to find Erestor. 
Resting his chin in his hands, and in turn resting his elbows on his knees, 
the elder twin sat hunched upon the seat with his dark eyes glassy, 
worrying nervously at his lower lip as thoughts of possible scenarios raced 
through his troubled mind.

He sat there for what could have been several minutes, until he was slowly 
roused from his involuntary self-torment by the presence of a shadow that 
had fallen upon him. Tilting his head up to look at the figure standing over 
him, Elladan offered a sad smile when he registered that it was Erestor. He 
then lowered his gaze to the flagstones once more. Erestor elegantly 
inclined his head in a gesture of concern, and, without a word, moved to 
sit next to the troubled twin.

Elladan sighed again. "I have seen this go wrong before now," he 
murmured, his voice laden with sorrow and fright, trembling ever so 
slightly. In a motion of comfort to himself - the only kind he seemed likely 
to find at present - he curled one leg underneath him and wrapped his arms 
tightly about himself. "But nîn tithen gwanunig, too... Ai, I know not if I 
could bear it."

Erestor sat regarding the elder twin with his wide, grey eyes, pooling with 
sympathy for the miserable figure. He was uncertain if Elladan was talking 
to himself or not, for his mutterings were almost inaudible - and 
incomprehensible to the advisor - and his eyes were still pinned to the 
floor. Indeed, his words could well have been meant for none other than 
himself, for he jumped when Erestor placed a hand gently upon his 
shoulder, and his head snapped up.

"I have sensed nothing ill from out here, Elladan," he declared soothingly, 
his usually sharply handsome features softening a degree in his attempt to 
comfort. "And if you have no untoward feelings, either, then that can only 
be taken as a good sign. The pair of you have held such a strong bond 
since birth that surely you would be able to tell if something had gone 
amiss?"

Elladan shrugged, considering the idea. Erestor was usually right, and it 
made sense to listen to him when he offered advice; he //was//the chief 
advisor to the Lord of Imladris, after all. And yet, the Peredhel twin could 
not help but fear that something would go wrong, just as it had some five 
hundred years past. And those circumstances had been more favourable, 
too! Legolas had been on the brink of death for the second time in as many 
days when Elladan had last seen him, and all was definitely not well with 
Elrohir either. The very thought made Elladan shudder, and he coerced the 
dark thoughts to the back of his mind for even the briefest of moments, 
forcing himself to instead concentrate on Erestor.

His watery chocolate eyes turned slowly up to the elder Elf, whose own 
grey pair twinkled down at him from where they punctuated his pale face, 
dramatically framed by jet-black hair. The advisor's hand was still on his 
shoulder, and it touched Elladan to see the concern evident in his reserved 
former tutor. He had known Erestor for as long as he could remember, the 
other having been entrusted with the twins' education, and although 
Elladan knew that Erestor could be as gentle as any Elf, this softer side of 
his nature was often disguised by a harsher, more distant and detached 
outer. The twin smiled weakly up at his father's advisor, but said nothing.

Seeing that he was not going to receive a verbal response from the 
normally lively, animated and outspoken elder twin, Erestor gave his 
shoulder one last squeeze and allowed his hand to slip down to the bench. 
It unnerved him slightly to see Elladan behaving like this, though from the 
little he knew about the binding technique, he could easily understand 
why. Then the thought came to mind that Elladan probably wished to be 
alone - why else would he have come out to the hall, when he could be 
with his family instead? Erestor was not about to disobey Elrond, and yet 
at the same time he thought that he should probably give Elladan some 
space; so, with a wordless glance to the twin, he moved to get to his feet.

Although Elladan did not take his eyes from the floor, one hand swiftly 
stirred from where he was still hugging himself and was placed over 
Erestor's on the bench to prevent him from leaving. With a faint, shy 
smile, Erestor then settled himself back down, taking the twin's hand 
within his own and clasping it tightly. A mock of his own smile played 
across Elladan's lips at this, though weary and tainted with sorrow, and, 
thus they sat together in silence.

Both raised their eyes several minutes later, when the silence was 
disturbed by footsteps reverberating down the corridor from in the 
direction of Elrond's study. Elladan's gaze was harsh, his eyes wide and 
with trepidation evident in the dark orbs, whilst Erestor's was softer and 
more accepting of whatever was to follow. The two Elves relaxed, 
however, having tensed at the sound, when Arwen and Aragorn rounded 
the corner, the King's arm laid protectively around his Queen's willowy 
waist. Sad smiles were offered all round as they moved towards the bench, 
and Erestor released Elladan's hand after one last squeeze so that he could 
stand in a motion of respect. 

Arwen nodded at him and then sat down in his place next to her brother, 
whilst Aragorn hovered at her side. Elladan acknowledged her presence 
with a sideways flicker of his chocolate gaze, before dropping it to the 
ground yet again as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled 
him sideways towards her. Passively, he neither followed nor resisted the 
movement, simply allowing her to hold him close if she wished. Aragorn 
watched in silence; then, at a loss with what to do with himself, he 
collapsed into a sitting position on the floor, back resting in the space 
between the legs of his foster-brother and his wife.

Erestor moved to stand beside the window, facing away from the three on 
the other side of the room to allow them a little privacy. However, this 
lasted for possibly the best part of five minutes, before more footsteps 
were heard from down the corridor to precede the arrival of Elrond and his 
ever-present golden shadow. All eyes were turned to the approaching pair 
as they moved towards the great double doors leading into the hall, but 
Elrond motioned for them all to stay put for the moment. Glorfindel 
placed a hand supportively on the half-Elf's shoulder as he cracked open 
one of the doors, and slowly the raven-haired lord slipped inside and 
vanished into the hall, followed by his seneschal.

~~~

Elrond did not know that he had been holding his breath, until it rushed 
out of his lungs in a deep exhalation of relief upon seeing the scene laid 
out before him. Huddled under a blanket, upon a pile of furs in front of the 
fire, lay the two exhausted Elves, eyes closed in a deep healing sleep, but 
alive and glowing softly nonetheless. The half-Elf felt his lover's arms 
slide around his waist from behind, and he gratefully leaned back against 
the strong body of the taller Elf.

A sound beside them, followed by a soft gasp, caught their attention, and 
both turned their heads to see Elladan standing beside them, obviously 
unable to keep away any longer. Arwen and Aragorn followed a few 
seconds later, and Glorfindel turned his head fully to look to the back of 
the hall; seeing Erestor standing there, he beckoned the chief advisor into 
the hall to stand with the family. None noticed the surprised expression 
upon the face of the black-haired Elf, for all had forgotten that he did not 
know about Elrond and Glorfindel, and were instead paying their 
attentions to the newly bound couple.

Arwen's expression was slightly anxious as she stepped up to look over 
her brother and Legolas, and she glanced over to her father in concern. 
"Their eyes are closed, Ada," she murmured, her brow creasing slightly. 
Elrond looked over to her and smiled reassuringly.

"Aye, nîn sellath - 'tis a healing sleep. They are fine - look, see how they 
glow."

The she-Elf looked back to the couple, to see that her father was right. 
There was a soft, pale glow being emitted from both sleeping forms, 
visible even from under the thick blanket. Legolas and Elrohir together 
there presented a beautiful sight; Elrohir lay to one side and slightly on top 
of Legolas, his head tucked into the crook of the Prince's neck. The long 
locks of their hair, now dry from their exertions and time spent in front of 
the fire, cascaded over their shoulders and vanished under the blanket that 
covered them from mid-chest downwards, gold interwoven with ebony to 
produce a glorious sheet of dual-hued silk. Both faces were serene, relaxed 
in the sleep that carried them far from their present troubles, and they were 
clasping hands in a manner that Elrond recognised all too well.

The half-Elf shuddered in Glorfindel's arms, and the blond moved his head 
to enquire what had caused it. Elrond noticed his concern, but said 
nothing, and instead Glorfindel followed his gaze to where it was still 
resting upon the slender, conjoined hands, fingers interlaced. No blood 
could be seen on the creamy skin, although a few scarlet drops were 
visible on the surrounding furs; self-consciously, Elrond lifted his own left 
hand and stared at the palm, aware for the first time in recent times of the 
faint scar that divided the flesh in two.

His blond lover lifted his own right hand, revealing the matching blemish, 
and reached for the half-Elf's hand to hold it in the same way as Elrohir 
and Legolas' were clasped. Elrond gripped back hard, needing to feel the 
reassuring touch of Glorfindel's skin against his own all of a sudden - 
however, it was not enough. Without thinking twice, he tilted his head up 
and to the side so that he could reach the blond's lips, and, sensing his 
lover's need, Glorfindel kissed him tenderly.

The kiss broke after just a few seconds, but it was enough to leave Elrond 
smiling; Glorfindel beamed back down at him, sapphire eyes twinkling. 
The blond then looked up again, to take in the state of the rest of the 
family, and met with a pair of grey eyes, wide and shocked. Glorfindel 
laughed softly and pressed another kiss into the back of the dark head, 
causing Elrond to also look over in the same direction.

"It seems as though we have forgotten about someone, melethron," he 
muttered, making it sound as though he were talking to Elrond but loud 
enough so that Erestor could hear.

The half-Elf grinned guiltily. "Aye, so we have," he murmured back, 
moving his head again so that he could deliberately press his lips to 
Glorfindel's jaw. "Well, Erestor, there is something you should know!"

The chief advisor was utterly dumbfounded; here was his lord in the arms 
of his seneschal - having just kissed, no less! His mouth opened and closed 
several times before he was able to coax words out from it, and when they 
did finally emerge, he spluttered upon them. "I...I...you...how long?"

"In the region of five hundred years," replied Elrond, squeezing 
Glorfindel's hand tighter. 

"Five hundred years...but wasn't that when Celebrìan..."

Elrond nodded, thinking that perhaps this was not such a good idea, after 
all. But Erestor was certainly quick witted; he would give him that.

"But then does that mean..." Erestor's grey eyes flicked over to the 
sleeping couple before the fire, as though to illustrate his point. Elrond 
nodded again. The advisor's mouth opened and closed a few more times, 
and he had to give up and take a deep breath before he finally found the 
words that he was looking for.

"You have my utmost admiration, my lords."

To be continued...

Elvish Translations:

Nîn tithen gwanunig - my little twin brother
Nîn sellath - My daughter
Melethron - Lover



***************
Chapter Thirteen
***************

Support Me

Elrond could almost feel the satisfaction radiating from 
Glorfindel at these words, and he pressed back more firmly 
against his lover, offering his chief advisor a gracious smile at 
the same time.

"Thank you, Erestor; it means a great deal to us to know we 
have your support," he declared, bowing his head a little. 
Glorfindel also murmured his thanks, the vibrations of his 
deep voice rippling from his chest and through Elrond's back, 
leaving a pleasant, tingling sensation in their wake. Erestor 
also bowed his dark head, slowly recovering his calm and 
distant composure, and turned back to the slumbering couple 
before the fire.

For another moment, the six figures stood around regarding 
the newly bound pair in silence, each allowing their thoughts 
to wander in their own, private direction. At last, however, 
Elrond blinked away the glaze that had briefly passed over 
his eyes, and cleared his throat before he spoke.

"We really should move them somewhere more private," he 
mused out loud, lifting each of the other bystanders from their 
own reverie. Arwen inclined her head.

"Elrohir's room?" came her suggestion, based on the fact that 
the younger twin's quarters were situated in the quietest part 
of the house. Her father nodded thoughtfully.

"Mm, 'tis probably best," he agreed, adding after another 
moment's thought, "Would you go on and light the fire, 
sellath-nîn? And lay out a pair of sleeping robes, too; they 
need to be kept warm."

Arwen nodded in return, then placed a hand on her husband's 
shoulder as she moved to leave. He raised his round, grey 
eyes to her in question, then stirred to action, accompanying 
her out of the halls as she left to do as she was bid. Elrond 
watched them go, and then turned his attentions to Erestor.

"There is no need for you to stay any longer, Erestor - you are 
free to go, if you so wish."

The black-haired Elf made a shallow bow to the half-Elf. 
"Thank you, my lord. I am glad they are well. Do not hesitate 
to call if you have need for me."

Even words halted him as he too turned to leave, and he 
glanced over his shoulder to listen to his lord once more.

"They are hardly what I would call *well*, Erestor, but I thank 
you for your concern, nonetheless." The tips of the advisor's 
pointed ears coloured pink, but he managed to maintain his 
cool facade as he bowed to his lord once more and left, borne 
upon swift steps.

Elladan was now the only other conscious presence in the hall, 
aside from Glorfindel, and he had not moved from his position 
since he had first entered the room. Elrond inclined his head 
and stepped out of his lover's embrace and up to his eldest 
son, speaking his name as he went.

"Elladan?" This produced no result, so the half-Elf reached out 
a hand to lay it on the twin's shoulder. Elladan jumped at the 
contact, startled from his thoughts, and caught his father's 
chocolate regard, wide-eyed and wild.

"They will be fine, Elladan, do not fear," Elrond assured his 
son, who had started trembling slightly. Elladan nodded, trying 
not to appear as wretched as he felt, but in the end was unable 
to prevent it and screwed his eyes tightly shut. He took a deep 
breath, frustrated at himself, and pinched the bridge of his 
nose, before passing both hands across his face and shaking 
his head.

"Aye... aye, I know they will," he sighed heavily. "But when 
you have seen it go wrong before...well, you know..."

A shadow passed over both Elrond and Glorfindel's faces, but 
the half-Elf crippled his own emotions for the time being in 
order to comfort his son a little. "I know," he echoed softly, 
pursing his lips in a wry smile and squeezing the younger Elf's 
shoulder. Elladan looked at him sadly, and at last Elrond pulled 
him into the quick, tight embrace for which he had been 
longing, but not wanted to ask. The elder half-Elf felt the 
younger smile against his shoulder in a strained fashion, and 
noted with concern the way in which a shiver ran through the 
slight form.

"You are cold, gweniaur," he stated, pulling back to lay the 
back of his hand against the pallid cheek and brushing a few 
stray, damp strands of dark hair away from Elladan's face in a 
paternal manner. "And these clothes are still wet from the rain 
- go on with you and get into a hot bath.  We will take care of 
these two."

"But..." Elladan's brow creased in protest, but Elrond raised an 
eyebrow menacingly and the elder twin knew better than to 
argue with him. With an acquiescing shake of his head and 
one last lingering glance back at his brother, the twin turned 
and trundled from the hall. Glorfindel regarded his lover, who 
turned to him when Elladan's footsteps could no longer be 
heard in the corridor, wearing a wistful expression.

"It pains me to see him like that, nîn bellas," he sighed. "Such 
a far cry from his usual animated self."

The blond inclined his head elegantly, his bright blue eyes 
unreadable. "And it does not pain you to see Elrohir like this?" 
he questioned gently, gesturing behind him. Elrond shrugged.

"I am proud of him for it, but yes, it does."

"Elladan deserves your pride as much as Elrohir, nîn ind," 
replied Glorfindel, his voice still gentle and diplomatic. "He has 
just not had the chance to prove it yet. And he always was 
very close to Elrohir - this is as hard for him as it is for us...if 
not more so. I suspect he is lonely; you know how gregarious 
he usually is. I cannot really blame him, for it is not as though 
we have given him a huge amount of support through this."

Elrond closed his eyes. "You are right, as usual," he conceded, 
moving now to kneel besides Legolas and Elrohir. "I shall 
spend some time with his in due course; but, for now, let us 
deal with this twin, yes?"

Glorfindel could not help but smirk as he knelt with his back to 
the fire on the other side of the slumbering Elves, facing 
Elrond. "Do not be disheartened by it," he insisted, and 
stretched over to place a loving kiss on the half-Elf's forehead. 
"They are tougher than you think."

Elrond could not hold back his grin in return, retorting, "They 
must take after their father, then, in that respect!" His blond 
lover smirked again, glad as he was to see some of the more 
cheerful, playful banter emerging from the dark-haired 
Peredhel once more.

"As opposed to the Maiar they received from their mother, I 
suppose!" Elrond shot him a sceptical look.

"Hush for a while, will you, and let me fantasise?!"

"What is there to fantasise about? I should be offended! I 
meant tough in texture, as opposed to tough in bearing, which 
is obviously what you were talking about." The half-Elf looked 
at him, astonished. "You know - difficult to eat?"

Elrond gaped at him for a moment or so, shocked to silence by 
the utterly inane topic of conversation, and then pursed his lips 
to keep back a torrent of silent giggles. Glorfindel felt his own 
lips twitch upwards as he watched his lover attempting to 
remain silent so as not to awaken the sleepers, and waited 
until they seemed to have subsided before opening his mouth 
to continue. Elrond, however, whipped his hand up and planted 
it firmly over the blond's mouth, preventing him from saying 
anything further.

"Just stop right there!" he hissed, though his face was lit up by 
a brilliant beam. "As though anyone should even think about 
cooking my poor boys! Just see to your Prince, would you?"

Glorfindel mock-pouted as the hand was removed, but obeyed 
nonetheless... or at least until he thought that the time was 
right for one last retort. "Who said anything about cooking 
them?" he muttered slyly, shooting a sideways glance at his 
lover. "I should eat them raw." Elrond snorted and shook his 
head in dismay, but otherwise ignored him and busied himself 
with the task now in hand.

Gently, the half-Elf reached down and began to untwine the 
lovers' fingers from where their hands were still clasped as 
they slept. Just as he had pulled the palms apart and laid that 
of the dark-haired Elf away from the Prince's, however, 
Elrohir stirred and whimpered softly, moving his hand back up 
to feel for Legolas' again. Elrond snickered silently and 
separated them once more, but this time Elrohir's brow 
furrowed in protest and he stirred again, his eyes cracking 
half-open to see who was disturbing his well-earned rest. 

"Ada," he whispered, the word almost inaudible, upon seeing 
that it was his father, and buried his face deeper into the 
creamy column of Legolas' neck. Elrond smiled down dotingly 
at him as he reached out to pet the raven wind, rain and 
passion-ruffled locks.

"Aye, gwenneth, come on, you cannot stay here," he 
murmured back. "People will be coming in here in a few 
hours. Let us take you both upstairs, hmm?"

Elrohir mumbled something, though Elrond was not quite 
certain if there were actually any words to the noise or 
whether it was merely a hum; whichever way, he gently slid 
his arms around his younger son so that he could pull him 
away from the unconscious Prince, and raised his torso so that 
it was cradled safely in his arms, the blanket wrapped tightly 
around his otherwise unclothed figure. The twin whimpered 
again and nuzzled against his father's tunic, but cracked open 
his eyes once more to look up at him when Elrond lifted him 
fully into his arms.

"Can walk," he muttered sulkily, pouting. His father grinned 
indulgently at him.

"I daresay you can, but won't you humour me, just this once?"

Elrohir screwed his eyes shut and pouted further, muttering 
yet another unintelligible thing to himself, but made no other 
form of protest as he seemed to fall asleep again against his 
father.  Elrond motioned to Glorfindel, who had also lifted 
Legolas into his arms, wrapped in another blanket, and 
together they got to their feet and made their way out of the 
hall.

"He weighs nothing," exclaimed Glorfindel softly as they began 
to climb the stairs. The half-Elf glanced over to the limp, blond 
figure in his lover's arms, noting with a frown the still 
bandaged wrists. The fabric was now dirty and splattered with 
mud, but Elrond doubted that the mud had actually penetrated 
the thick layers of cloth that he had wrapped the Prince's 
forearms with the night before, and decided that they could 
wait until the next day.

"Are you surprised?" he answered to Glorfindel. The blond 
Elda shrugged as best he could, then shook his head.

"Nay, I suppose not."

No more words were exchanged between them as they 
finished climbing the flight of stairs. Elrond shifted Elrohir's 
weight in his arms a little, surprised at how heavy his son 
actually was. Glorfindel glanced at him sidelong, but the half-
Elf shook his head and unconsciously tightened his grip on his 
son. Thus, they made their way to the far side of the house, 
relieved not to encounter anyone save the odd maid in their 
paths.

To be continued...

Elvish Translations:

Gweniaur - Older twin (a childhood endearment for Elladan)



Author: Ilye
Email: ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk
Website: www.geocities.com/talesfromthevale
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: Don't own, don't sue. Wow, how original was that...


*****