Title: Greenleaf & Imladris 20 - Bereth: To Have and To Hold
Author: Eressë (eresse21@yahoo.com)
Type: FPS
Pairing: Elrohir/Legolas
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Legolas and Elrohir's love is beset from within by
misunderstandings and from without by an evil from an age long past. 
Disclaimer: I write for the sheer enjoyment of it.  All else belongs
to the grand old wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien.
Author's Note: This story takes place some ten years after the events
narrated in Calenlass: Heart of a Prince.  Inspiration for certain
parts came from The Silmarillion.  I was in an experimental mood when
I wrote this part so it may differ somewhat in style and content from
the previous stories.  

Bereth: To Have and To Hold

Prologue: Portents
Eryn Lasgalen, hrîvë FA 32
Winter this year in the lands east of the Misty Mountains seemed at
once mild and harsh at the same time.  Snow and ice had failed to
materialize leaving paths clear and treetops unburdened yet the ground
was frozen solid and the carcasses of birds and beasts littered the
forest, slain by the unforgiving cold of many a cruel night.  It was
strange weather considering that the peaks and slopes of the Misty
Mountains were crowned in frost and blanketed with snow.  And
travelers coming over the high passes before they closed reported the
west to be steadily slipping into the usual pristine embrace of the
season.

But despite the oddities of the situation, certain routines were not
in the least disrupted as proven by the party of Elven rangers that
made its stealthy way along the wending tracks of the forest.  They
hailed from the Woodland Realm of Northern Eryn Lasgalen.  That they
were out on patrol in such bone-chilling weather was testament not
only to the Elves' unrelenting devotion to keeping their realm safe
and secure but to the exigencies spawned by the said weather.  

The lack of snow and ice had encouraged the orcs that infested the
deeps of Hithaeglir and the Ered Mithrin to come out of their usual
winter's hiding and raid the settlements at the feet of the mountains. 
Not content with that, they had dared to break Greenwood's borders in
their never ending need to inflict as much mayhem as they could on its
denizens, whether Elven or otherwise.  The Silvan Elves, Beornings and
Woodmen had retaliated in kind, decimating the invading goblins with
equal ferocity and even greater efficiency. 

Distrustful of the orcs' retreat to their mountain strongholds, the
Wood-elves now kept constant patrol of their borders lest any
treacherous groups should attempt to re-enter the forest.

However that was not the only reason they combed the woods so
assiduously.

This particular troop of rangers had proceeded to the northern reaches
of the Wood of Greenleaves, drawn by some vague but nevertheless
palpable evil.  Their affinity with their forest home enabled them to
understand the whispers of the trees and plants and grass and those
whispers had alluded to peril in the north.  The fairly recent strange
occurrences in these environs lent credence to the trees' rustling
warnings.

The northern bounds had long known no dangers beyond the usual
incursions of orcs and brigands and the occasional blundering troll. 
But in the last quarter century or so, there had been a disturbing
number of unexplained disappearances in this neck of the green wood. 
The first victims had been from the human caravans that infrequently
plied the routes on the outskirts of the forest.  In all cases, it was
the women who vanished; the men were always slain without exception. 
None survived to tell the tale of the women's fates.  It was assumed
they had been abducted but there was no knowing who had done so or
why.  No demand for ransom ever came forth nor was there any evidence
of enforced servitude anywhere amongst the inhabited regions of the
north.  The women were simply never heard from again.

Thranduil, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, had been troubled by such
tidings but even with the aid of the Beornings and Woodmen and the
collusion of neighboring Dale and Esgaroth, the mystery had remained
unsolved.   But in the first years of the past decade, the number of
women who disappeared had suddenly escalated and, even more alarming
to the Elves, had begun to include their own. 

With the downfall of Sauron and the destruction of his fortress of Dol
Guldur in the southern reach of the former Mirkwood, the caution of
all the forest dwellers had lessened.  After the elimination of the
great spiders that had once infested the dark woods, men had started
to build colonies in the south of the forest though they were careful
not to trespass upon the territory of the Elves of East Lórien. 
Though Celeborn had since forsaken that realm in favor of his
grandsons' company in Imladris, many of his people stayed on, awaiting
only his summons to join him when at last he should pass West.

While men explored the south, the Elves of the woodland kingdom had
tamed the north.  There were many flourishing, far-flung colonies
scattered in the area.  It was from the most remote of these
settlements that the Elf-women had been taken.  Again the
disappearances had followed the previous pattern.  The females had
been taken, the rest slain to seal their lips forever.

Thranduil had promptly recalled his people, moving them back to the
more secure regions of his realm.  As a result, there had been no
further incidents involving the Wood-elves but human women continued
to vanish here and there.  Ever mindful of his duty to those within
his area of responsibility, seeking to prevent deeper incursions of
whatever it was that had bedeviled the colonies and mayhap discover
its nature, the Elvenking had decreed that the northern reaches would
be as thoroughly patrolled as the west. 

The inexplicable disappearances had finally ceased and there had been
no new reported cases for three years now.  But the Elves refused to
relax their vigilance and continued to keep a close watch on the
northern bounds of the wood.

Now the most recent patrol scoured the wood, drawn by a sense of
something having occurred though they had not the slightest notion
what that could be.  It was just as they were set to give up and turn
back that two of their number finally found what they sought.

There, nearly hidden by the gnarled roots of a tree, lay a man or
rather the body of one.  A little further off they found two more
bodies in much the same state as the first. 

With mingled horror and awe, one scout raced back to the troop's
captain and made his report.  The captain hastened to the tangled
grove in which the rangers had made their gruesome discovery. 

He stood tall and proud this Elven warrior; was slender of frame yet
formidable of form.  Beautiful as sunlight with his golden hair,
bright blue eyes and ivory skin, he seemed unsuited for the role
demanded of him.  Yet his appearance belied his peerless skill whether
in archery or outright battle.         

Legolas, youngest prince of the woodland kingdom, stared down at the
corpses.  He grimaced in revulsion and not a little perturbation as he
wondered who or what in Arda could have done this.  And how.

**************
Glossary:
bereth - spouse
hrîvë - Sindarin for winter

===========================================

Chapter I: Troubling Matters
Elladan gently eased his wife onto one of the benches in the main
dining hall of the Woodland Realm's royal pavilion.  In her eleventh
month of pregnancy, Nimeithel was no longer the lissome Elf whose
regal grace equaled that of the Queen of Gondor.  But she was still
jawdroppingly beauteous as evinced by her husband's inability to take
his eyes *or* hands off her for long. 
	
"Are you comfortable?" he asked when she squirmed a little before
settling down at last.
	
"Enough to have breakfast," she replied with a smirk.  "I seem to be a
little sore."
	
Elladan blushed at the implication of her remark.  "I am sorry," he
murmured.  "I did not mean to overdo it last night."
	
Nimeithel swallowed a giggle at his discomfiture.  "As to that, I
would rather you always overdid it than hear that you've spent
yourself in some wench's bed."
	
The Elvenlord bristled.  "You know I care nothing for the charms of
others," he retorted reprovingly.  Elfkind did not take kindly to
infidelity or suggestions of it even in jest.
	
Nimeithel's eyes widened a little, realizing the impropriety of her
words.  That she had uttered them rather than Elladan made them a
little less offensive but that did not change the fact that they
should not have been uttered at all in the first place. 

"Forgive me, melethen"-my love-she cooed contritely.  "I fear 'tis my
condition that loosens my tongue.  I know you would never stray from
me, which is why I bear the brunt of your attention even this close to
birthing."
	
The blush returned as umbrage quickly seeped away.  Smiling
entreatingly, the princess sneaked a hand beneath the long table to
squeeze one hard thigh.  Elladan promptly gave her a look that
promised more of his attention at the first opportunity possible. 
	
Such passion as they shared was uncommon even among the Elves, the
most passionate of all Arda's sentient races.  It was mostly due to
Elladan's considerable carnal appetite, a trait he had in common with
his twin brother, Elrohir.  It was the reason Nimeithel had delayed
conceiving for so long, this knowledge that her husband would feel
deprived when she reached the end of gestation and during the recovery
period after giving birth. 

Many had argued that the wait would not be lengthy; she was an Elf,
for Elbereth's sake, she would heal swiftly by mortal standards.  But
Nimeithel knew her Elladan; knew he would chafe at the wait, no matter
how brief.  Even now, huge as she was with child, he still took her
nearly every night, as if preparing for the famine that was to follow. 
That they now knew the full measure of shared rapture brought on by
this first conception deepened his hunger for her even further.  There
were times she wondered what it would be like once she recovered from
birthing and just as swiftly would put aside the thought when it
reduced her to tremor-inducing fits of equal parts anticipation and
apprehension.

Her imminent birthing was the reason they had come to Eryn Lasgalen. 
Although Nimeithel had stoutly asserted that she did not mind giving
birth in Rivendell, Elladan knew she would be much more at ease in the
company of her kin.  There was Brethildor's wife to see to her needs
and her mother's female cousins as well.  And so, he had brought her
to her father's realm for the winter; she was due to have their babe
in February.
	
They were midway through their meal when Elrohir walked in, looking
rather distracted.  Elladan gestured to his twin to join them. 
Murmuring greetings, Elrohir kissed his law-sister on the cheek and
sat across from the couple. 

He and Legolas had come north as well, taking advantage of a long bout
of peace in Ithilien.  With the southern orcs beaten into submission
for a spell, the fair province was quiet and secure at the moment. 
Missing the company of their respective families they had asked leave
of Elessar and arrived in the woodland kingdom soon after Elladan and
Nimeithel.
	
Signaling to a servant to bring food for the Elf-lord, Nimeithel said,
"I trust you slept well last night, gwanur?"-kinsman?
	
Before Elrohir could reply, Elladan snorted amusedly and drawled, "I
doubt he or Legolas got any sleep at all, melethril."-lover.  "They
were at it long before we retired for the night and I would not be
surprised if they were still at it long after we fell asleep."
	
Elrohir scowled at his twin's remark and kicked him beneath the table. 
Elladan yelped and quickly pulled back his legs but the mischievous
grin did not leave his face.
	
Not that his words were uncalled for.  While many had commented on the
lustful nature of his relationship with Nimeithel, no one could deny
that Elrohir and Legolas surpassed them by far.  Nimeithel was wont to
say that such a state of affairs was not surprising given that theirs
was a mating between two mettlesome warriors of concupiscence to
match.
	
"I slept quite well, gwanur"-kinswoman-Elrohir pointedly addressed
Nimeithel, sparing Elladan the mildest of glares.  "Contrary to what
my dear brother may suggest."
	
Nimeithel giggled, enjoying as always the interplay between the twins. 
They fell silent for a while when a servant brought Elrohir's
breakfast.  Once the Elf walked away, Elladan idly asked, "Where is
Legolas?"
	
The smile suddenly faded from the Elf-knight's face.  "I was hoping
you could tell me," he admitted softly.  "He was gone when I woke up."
	
Elladan and Nimeithel glanced at each other.  "Have you searched for
him?" Nimeithel asked cautiously. 
	
Elrohir nodded pensively.  "No one in the palace seems to know where
he is."
	
The princess bit her lip, feeling a little guilty on behalf of her
wayward brother. 
	
Elrohir sighed.  "I just wish he left me word of his plans whatever
they were," he said.  "Even a note would have sufficed."
	
"I wish we could help you, gwanneth"-younger twin-Elladan responded. 
"But Legolas did not see fit to speak to us either this morn.  We have
no idea where he might be."
	
It so happened the servant had returned to their table with a
hot-from-the-oven loaf of bread.  Overhearing Elladan's words, he
respectfully addressed Elrohir.
	
"Hir nîn"-my lord-"Prince Legolas left with the border patrol just
before dawn," he offered diffidently, embarrassed at being the one to
inform the Elf-lord of his own mate's whereabouts.  The utter
stillness of Elrohir's countenance upon being so informed unnerved him
greatly.  It was apparent he had not thought to inquire about the
prince at the barracks but, after all, who would?
	
"Thank you," the twin finally said.  The servant hurried away. 
	
Elrohir stared unseeingly at his food, appetite gone.  Then without a
word, he rose and left the dining hall.  Elladan and Nimeithel stared
after him then looked at each other. 
	
"How could Legolas do this to him?" the princess murmured, shamed for
her brother.
	
"He has been doing it for a long time now, herves"-wife-Elladan said
curtly.  "'Tis only a matter of time before Elrohir loses his
patience.  I fear the outcome when he does."
	
Nimeithel felt her husband's pain for his brother.  She knew full well
just how deep the rapport between the twins truly was.  Even at far
distances, they could oft sense the other's well-being or lack
thereof.  Their respective espousals had naturally separated them to a
certain extent as they turned their attentions and affections to their
respective binding-mates.  But the closeness they had always shared
never vanished and would immediately rekindle when they were together. 
	
Placing an understanding hand over Elladan's, she softly said, "Go to
him, ind nîn."-my heart.  "He needs you now."
	
Casting a grateful smile at her, Elladan rose, kissed her gently and
followed in his brother's wake.
	
He found him wandering aimlessly in the gardens behind the royal
pavilion.  Wordlessly, he joined his twin and curled a comforting arm
around his shoulders.  Such was their accord that the simple gesture
was enough to soothe Elrohir's heart.  Nevertheless, Elladan was
perforce compelled to voice his worries.  It was time the younger twin
confided his troubles in him. 
	
Elladan regarded him with concern. "Muindor"-brother-"are you happy
with Legolas?"
	
"Of course, why do you ask?" Elrohir briefly replied.
	
"Really, Elrohir, you cannot deny that there is something amiss
between the two of you," Elladan said musingly.  "From Eryn Gael to
Imladris and Greenwood, no Elf with eyes has failed to see that
Legolas is not as solicitous of you as others are of their spouses -
including his own sister."
	
"You can hardly ask him to be as tender as Nimeithel," Elrohir
answered somewhat defensively.  "He is a warrior bound to a fellow
ellon."-male Elf.
	
Elladan snorted.  "As is Glorfindel yet our valiant Balrog slayer was
ever as tender with Erestor as any loving wife with her husband." 
When Elrohir kept silent, he pressed on.  "He refuses to let you
cherish him, chafes when you seek to protect him, goes off without
telling you of his intentions or whereabouts."  Elladan hesitated. 
"He behaves as if you are but casual lovers, not binding-mates."
	
"Think you I do not know that?" Elrohir said in a low, hushed voice.
	
"Then why do you endure it?" Elladan demanded.  "You have every right
to question his manner, Elrohir.  His demeanor is not normal for one
who is bound.  'Tis not the way of Elfkind." 
	
"One cannot force tenderness from another," Elrohir said.  "What would
it accomplish for me to point out his failings?  We would only quarrel
needlessly."
	
"Needlessly?  You are no ignorant Elfling, tôren"-my brother-Elladan
chided.  "You know as well as I that it should not have to be forced
from him, that a binding elicits such feelings effortlessly.  Or it
should.  That he does not seem to feel the pull begs a question.  What
if your binding is not-?"
	
"Do not say it!" Elrohir said sharply, knowing as always what his twin
sought to express.  "'Tis agonizing enough just thinking about it.  I
do not need to have you speak of it in the full light of day."
	
"I am sorry," Elladan said quietly.  "I only want to help."
	
"I know, gwaniaur."-older twin.
	
"You have to consider the consequences of an - error in his decision. 
You cannot continue thusly for all eternity."
	
"That I know, too."  Elrohir closed his eyes.  "Yet it matters not."
	
"You love him come what may."
	
"My heart is his."
	
"Even if he does not cherish it as you deserve?"
	
"Even if he should break it, aye, it is his."
	
Elladan frowned in frustration.  "Elrohir-"
	
"Years ago, he gave me *his* heart because he trusted me to keep it
safe," Elrohir quietly elucidated.  "I never sought the same from him. 
Why should I now take this against him?  How can I?"
	
Elladan stared at him, torn between bemusement and amazement.  "'Tis
your right, Elrohir," he insisted.
	
"Leave it be, Elladan, leave it be," the younger twin pleaded.
	
Elladan sighed, shaking his head.  "Ai, gwanneth, why is your path so
oft strewn with obstacles?"
	
The sad smile of his brother nearly broke his heart.  "Mayhap the
Valar seek to test my strength in following such a path."
	
"And are you indeed strong enough?"
	
"I have to be.  For both of us."
	
"Him again."  When his twin said nothing, Elladan pursed his lips.  "I
do not know whether to admire you or pity you," he admitted.
	
"You can do both," Elrohir softly suggested.  "Elbereth knows I need
all the succor I can get."
	
Elladan let the argument rest though his heart beat with resentment
against the friend who made his brother so unhappy.  They walked on in
silence, each pondering weighty thoughts.
	
Elrohir felt his fears rise up anew.  His twin had broached a subject
he had resisted opening because of its repercussions.
	
In the first year or so after their binding in Eryn Gael, Legolas had
been as attentive a spouse as could be desired.  Elrohir could not
have asked for more and indeed would have been content with less.  It
was enough that he had finally gained what he had sought for centuries
uncounted.  But while the years had continued to progress, their
relationship, strangely enough, had not.  Legolas had changed and
Elrohir had no idea why.
	
The Greenwood prince had always been of a fiercely independent bent,
unwilling to own himself beholden to anyone in any way.  His deep
friendship with the twins had been the one exception that had deviated
from his usual pattern of close but controlled relationships.  Only
with Elrond's sons had he admitted to dependency on another.  Only
with them had he willingly reined in his inherent wildness of spirit. 
	
At only one other time had he relied as much on others and that was
during the War of the Ring when singular circumstances had demanded
singular behavior.  But that had been but a brief and never-repeated
interlude in his long warrior's life.
	
Elrohir loved his wild spirit, did not desire to purge him of that
admirable independence.  But he had not expected the archer to embrace
his old ways so much as to actually exclude him increasingly from
matters outside of their binding-bed.
	
How often had Legolas gone off on some errand or activity with nary a
word to him?  This morning's embarrassment was but one in a long line
of incidents that had Elves on both ends of the Reunited Kingdom
wondering about them.  He did not expect the prince to ask for his
permission; that was perfectly absurd.  But he did expect to be
informed of his own spouse's plans or whereabouts if only out of
courtesy and concern.
	
Then there was the all too discernable lack of consideration one
expected of a bound Elf.  Legolas seldom if ever displayed such
tenderness for him yet apparently did not mind being on the receiving
end of the same behavior.  But let Elrohir exhibit even the minutest
amount of protectiveness or possessiveness and at once the prince took
umbrage at what he called unwarranted attentions from the Elf-knight.
	
Another difficulty to contend with was the archer's increasingly short
temper.  It was something Elrohir found perplexing.  Legolas had
always been the sweetest-tempered of Thranduil's sons yet in recent
years he had grown almost as snappish and impatient as his oldest
brother, Melthoron, had been once upon a time. 

He could not pinpoint the exact moment when the changes began.  But he
could remember when he'd become aware of it.  Painfully aware.

A little less than three years ago, he'd gone to Rivendell for a half
year of duty at Elladan's side.  Legolas had not been able to travel
north with him and so they'd been forced apart for those six months,
sustained only by the messages they'd sent each other.  He'd noticed
the almost desperate tone of Legolas' letters by the latter half of
his sojourn in the vale.  He'd wondered at it for the archer had not
been so needful of his presence during past separations.  They had
disturbed him enough to compel him to return to Gondor sooner than
expected.

His reunion with the prince was both exhilarating and perturbing.  He
could still recall the turbulence of that meeting.  Legolas had
practically dragged him into their chamber, abruptly cutting off the
gracious greetings his people had been extending to the Elf-knight. 
Before Elrohir had even had the chance to catch his breath at such
haste, the Wood-elf all but attacked him.

He'd never known Legolas to be so voracious before.  Their raiment did
not survive the fury of the prince's onslaught and, for the longest
while, Elrohir had thought, neither would his lucidity.  For Legolas
had taken him with almost frightening ferocity.  Even for one as
experienced as the warrior, the Wood-elf's need-fed urgency had been
unprecedented and overwhelming.  And he'd seen something in Legolas'
eyes that had troubled him even as he came to explosive release
beneath his spouse's wondrous form.  Desire unfettered.  Pure,
undiluted lust.  Far from the intensely loving if understandably
lubricious welcomes of years past.    

Afterwards, as they lay amidst the tangled sheets and shredded remains
of their clothing, he'd sought to discover what had driven his
binding-mate so hardily.  But Legolas had dismissed the matter and
only said he'd been badly in need of release.  Then to add to
Elrohir's disconcertment, he'd behaved as if nothing untoward had
occurred between them and for the rest of the day accorded him nothing
more than cool, almost distant affection.

Only to bed him once more that very night with that same curious
needfulness and distressing lack of emotional closeness.  And
afterwards, left him feeling as if he'd been...used.  That had been
the exact moment when Elrohir had realized that their relationship had
begun to change even beforehand but had been so slow and subtle in the
changing that he had not fully noticed its encroachment.

It had been there for some time - the erosion of the archer's tender,
caring demeanor towards his Elf-knight.  Elrohir had deemed it but the
effects of his sometimes burdensome responsibilities as the Elf-lord
of Eryn Gael.  He'd known that same feeling of being trapped by fate,
duty and honor and how it could wear down one's forbearance.  And so
he'd exerted more effort to soothe his spouse's occasionally
beleaguered spirit.

But matters only worsened.  Soon after his latest return, he'd noticed
how even the most basic displays of concern and affection due a
binding-mate had diminished considerably where Legolas was concerned. 

He'd tried to get to the bottom of the prince's reticence only to be
met with anger and indignation.  After several fruitless, almost
shockingly vitriolic quarrels over this, he'd given up and decided to
wait out Legolas' unreasonable behavior.  And wait he had.  For two
whole years punctuated by occasional hurtful spats.  Spats brought
about by any attempt on his part to resolve the problem.  And in all
that time, he'd felt the steady loss of the closeness they'd once
shared even as friends and pledged brothers.  All the way to the
present.
	
Only in their bed did Elrohir still derive any open affection from him
yet even there…
	
He'd been the teacher to Legolas' student being the more experienced
in intimacy between male-kind.  But in matters of dominance, he had no
preference within their binding so long as it was with Legolas that he
shared his body.  It was not the yielding to his mate that he minded,
which of late he'd had to do more and more, but that Legolas demanded
it of him so peremptorily.
	
That troubled him greatly.  There were times when he was no longer
certain whether Legolas took him out of love - or to assert his
primacy over him.  The latter seemed more in keeping with the archer's
escalating willful demeanor.  The one thing, the only thing that
consoled Elrohir was an odd feeling that Legolas was not doing it on
purpose.  The archer seemed unaware of his unbecoming manner and would
even apologize when he went too far.  That is, if someone made him
cognizant of going too far.

Elrohir sighed inwardly as he came back to the present.  He could not
deny the truth of his brother's comments.  Elladan was right.  Their
binding should have triggered the age-old impulses in both of them. 
He felt them strongly in himself. 

The need to own and be owned.  The desire to protect and cherish and
seek naught but the pleasure and happiness of one's binding-mate.  The
ability to depend wholly on the other and offer it in turn without
shame or hesitation.  Elemental urges designed to keep the flames of
affection and desire between immortal lovers burning brightly for all
time.  Profoundly and eternally felt by Elfkind if the vows of love
and fidelity were spoken with true hearts and souls.

That haunted Elrohir above all else.  It seemed Legolas did not feel
the pull to quite the same degree as all others did.  That raised a
deeply disturbing question.  Why didn't he?

===========================================

Chapter II: Unresolved Issues
The patrol returned little more than a week later.  The twin lords
joined Thranduil and his older sons. Melthoron and Brethildor, at the
doors of his halls, Elrohir concerned for Legolas' well-being, Elladan
itching to give the archer a piece of his mind.  But all such
considerations were cast aside when they saw what the Elven rangers
had brought back with them.

"What in Arda-?" Brethildor gasped as he and the others beheld the
human remains laid out on the frozen ground.

There were three corpses, all male.  And all in attitudes of torment,
glassy eyes staring in abject fright, mouths yawning open in silent
screams, rigid fingers clawing or clutching at the Valar only knew
what.  But there was not a mark on them to indicate what had killed
them save for a strange desiccated look to their flesh that made it
seem like grey parchment.  Yet they could not have been dead for very
long for the elements to have such an effect on their bodies.  Their
clothes were whole and, while travel-stained, relatively new.  And no
beast had had the time or opportunity to despoil the bodies.

The twins knelt by the corpses and swiftly, with the supple fingers of
seasoned healers, examined the bodies, fair faces creased with baffled
frowns.  At length, Elladan looked up and shook his head.

"We will need to make a more thorough examination of their bodies but
thus far there is nothing here to tell us what slew them," he said. 
"There are no apparent wounds or blows that might have proven fatal to
them."

"But their flesh is curiously bereft of moisture," Elrohir remarked. 
"This should not be if they have only died recently."  He hesitated
then placed his hand over one man's eyes.

"Gwanneth..."-younger twin-Elladan said warningly.

"I will not attempt to probe too deeply," Elrohir assured him.  At his
twin's reluctant nod, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath then went
utterly still.

"What is he doing?" Brethildor asked curiously.   

"It is sometimes possible to glean something of the last thoughts of
the dead if one has the gift and if death was fairly recent," Elladan
soberly explained.  "Our grandmother and father had the skill and
Elrohir inherited some of it."

"Why did you caution him?" Thranduil inquired, somewhat awed that his
younger law-son should possess such a talent.  "Is it dangerous?"

"It can be draining," Elladan admitted.  "Particularly if one attempts
to delve too long or deeply."  He turned his attention back to his
brother, noting after several moments the increasingly pale cast of
his skin.  He sharply called him back.  "Elrohir!"

The Elf-knight let out a gasp then sagged wearily against Elladan when
the latter caught him in his arms.  "Are you all right?" the older
twin inquired worriedly.

After a few balming breaths, Elrohir nodded.  He glanced at the
others.

"There was not much to see," he conceded.  "The thoughts of men fade
more swiftly than those of Elves.  But there is some devilry at work
here.  This one's last vision was of a - a woman."

"A woman?" Thranduil repeated in puzzlement.

"Aye.  It was vague.  I could not make out many details.  But she
provoked much horror in him.  He was trying to get away.  At least,
that is the impression I received."

"Why would a mere woman terrify him so?" Melthoron mused.  "It sounds
most improbable."

"Nevertheless, she did," Elrohir said.  "His last thoughts were of
pure terror and - and pain.  Great pain."

"Yet you say there are no obvious marks of violence on any of the
bodies," Legolas commented.  "Nor was there evidence of a struggle
where we found them.  'Tis as if they did not expect an assault."

"They most likely did not until it was too late," Elladan said slowly. 
He had been fingering the man's clothing thoughtfully.  "I wager they
were not afraid of whoever it was that approached them.  Else this man
would not have rendered himself so vulnerable by coupling with his
assailant."

"What?!" Thranduil exclaimed.  The Elvenking moved closer to see what
the older twin had discovered.

Elladan shoved aside the man's long tunic to reveal unlaced breeches
and the evidence of a carnal encounter.  With a hiss, Elrohir did the
same for the other corpses and found their trousers in the same state
of disarray. 

Legolas frowned.  "We did not notice that," he said, obviously
displeased.

"They were at their least cautious," Elladan murmured.  "It was then
that their slayers struck."

"But it still does not explain how they were killed," Melthoron said
in frustration. 

Thranduil turned back to his youngest son.  "I would have the full
tale, Legolas.  Come, you will relate to us all that you know."

After dismissing the rest of the troop and other onlookers, he led the
way to his study in the royal pavilion.  Calling for food and wine for
his newly returned son, he did not question Legolas until the latter
had refreshed himself.  Only then did he have the archer recount what
happened, everyone listening keenly for anything that might give them
a clue as to what had befallen the unfortunate men.

"So, they were encamped elsewhere," Elladan remarked when Legolas was
done.  "Which means they had wandered away from each other with their
respective partners.  Who were they and where were they heading?"

"I believe they were traders from the settlements around Hithaeglir on
their way to Dale or Esgaroth," Legolas supplied.  "They had many
goods with them." 

"Did they not wonder what women would be doing all alone in such an
isolated area?" Brethildor put in.

"Mayhap the women led them to believe that they were from nearby
colonies." Elrohir surmised.  "Few men know that only Elves have
settled the north of Greenwood.  But I doubt that they cared for much
beyond the quick tumble that was offered them."

"Their lack of caution cost them their lives," Melthoron snorted

Thranduil scowled.  "I doubt this will be the end of it," he stated. 
"We must be even more vigilant."  He addressed Brethildor.  "Send out
scouting parties to scour the north.  I would know if there have been
other victims of whom we are unaware.  And, Melthoron, send messages
to our neighbors, even to Erebor.  If they do not already know
something of this, I would have them warned."    

He glanced at Legolas then noted how Elrohir's eyes would settle more
oft than not on the archer.  The Elvenking's mouth tightened.  Always
well informed of the goings on within his kingdom, he was not ignorant
of the whispers surrounding his youngest son's relationship with the
Elf-lord nor did he think Legolas anything less than culpable for what
those whispers suggested.  The tale of Legolas' precipitate and
unannounced leave-taking of Elrohir had already reached his ears via
the servants' grapevine. 

And his son had not redeemed himself upon his arrival either.  He had
not returned Elrohir's greeting in kind or succored him when he
overtaxed himself retrieving the dead man's last thoughts.  Even now
he still had not shown any outward regard for his binding-mate, an odd
thing considering they'd been apart for more than a week. 

With a hint of reproof in his tone, he said to Legolas: "We will
continue this later, ion nîn.-my son.  "For now, I suggest you take
your rest and spend what is left of the day with Elrohir."

Legolas started at his father's words then glanced at Elrohir.  The
twin's face remained impassive in the presence of the king but a
flicker of emotion showed for an instant in his eyes.  Feeling guilty,
Legolas acquiesced to his father's command.

After they had left, Elladan sighed and glanced at his law-father. 
"You should not have to tell him what to do, Adar"-Father-he murmured.

Thranduil, his mouth still tight, replied, "I know."  He shook his
head and added, "Truth be told, I am tempted to take my hand to his
backside.  'Tis a pity he is too old for such measures."

Such plainspoken criticism of their youngest brother elicited
surprised reactions from Melthoron and Brethildor.  It was a rare day
when even Thranduil found Legolas' behavior wanting.

Meanwhile, Legolas and Elrohir reached their chamber.  With a relieved
sigh, Legolas at once changed into fresh clothing, deferring a much
longed for warm bath until after the evening meal.  Elrohir watched
him frowningly.  At length he spoke.

"Why did you not tell me you were leaving with the patrol?" the
warrior quietly asked.
	
Legolas shrugged.  "I only thought of it when I awoke," he said. 
"Since you were still asleep I decided not to disturb you."
	
"You could have left a note."
	
"I did not think of it."
	
Elrohir pursed his lips grimly.  "'Tis not pleasant having to learn of
your whereabouts from someone else," he said. 
	
Legolas suddenly swung around and faced him, eyes flashing.  "I came
here to rest, Elrohir," he snapped.  "Not to be reproached.  I would
very much appreciate it if you would  leave me in peace."
	
Twilight pools glittered dangerously.  Stifling an urge to lash out
with a well-deserved punch, Elrohir answered instead, "As you wish."
	
Without further ado, he left the bedchamber.  A surge of remorse
clutched at the prince and he nearly followed.  But his pride hindered
him and with stubborn resolve he refrained from doing what any Elf
with an ounce of sense would have done.
	
He saw no more of Elrohir for the rest of the day.  The darkling Elf
stayed away, spending his time with his twin or speaking with the
rangers about the corpses, questioning them more thoroughly about the
circumstances under which they had found them.  If it struck the
warrior Elves as odd that the Lord Elrohir should seek information
from them when he could have gotten it from Prince Legolas himself,
they did not give voice to it.  And when he took his meals with his
twin and law-sister, staying pointedly away from the prince, no one
dared question that either.
	
So grievous was his resentment that he could not even bring himself to
return to their apartment to bathe.  Instead he had taken his bath in
Elladan's rooms, borrowing a robe after he was done.  But seeing
Nimeithel's sleepy countenance, he knew he could not impinge on his
brother's time any longer.  With a sigh, he thanked them for their
forbearance and reluctantly returned to his own chambers.
	
Upon entering, his first thought was that the apartment was empty. 
But then he discerned movement in the bathing chamber and went to see
if Legolas was within.  He stopped at the door, unwillingly mesmerized
by the sight that greeted him.
	
Legolas had just emerged from his own bath and now stood to one side
of the room, toweling himself dry.  His skin glowed golden in the
candlelight, the shadows defining most succinctly the lines and
shallows of his long, well-toned form.  His damp mane streamed down
his back like a shimmering silken curtain. 

Elrohir struggled against the reaction this image evoked in him but
knew it would be in vain.  He was never happy when they were not
together, not since he had won the archer's heart.  Their binding had
made it all the more difficult to endure being apart even for the
length of a mere week.  And the sheer beauty of the picture before him
was no help at all.
	
Acknowledging the fruitlessness of further resistance, he silently
approached the prince and slipped his arms around him from behind. 
Legolas started but quickly recognized the presence of the younger
twin.  He leaned back into the embrace and for a few heartbeats they
remained thus, relishing the renewed closeness between them that had
been aborted earlier in the day.
	
At length, Elrohir moved around him and pushed him gently against the
wall.  Wordlessly, he leaned in and captured the archer in a slow,
tantalizing kiss.  Legolas surrendered to it at once; the Elf-lord had
always been able to unravel him with his potent kisses.  Now was no
exception as he felt his lips parted, his mouth invaded and explored. 
	
He moaned in protest when Elrohir broke the contact only to groan when
the other paid attention to the side of his neck, slowly moving up its
length to nuzzle his ear then trailing down once more to nibble at his
throat.  An unfamiliar scent pierced his senses.  He shoved the robe
off the twin's shoulders impatiently.
	
"Take this off," he demanded, his voice rough, for Elrohir's tongue
was now tracing a path down his chest.  "It smells of Elladan!"
	
A husky chuckle inflamed him further.  "I had thought there was no
difference in our scents," Elrohir remarked, paying particular
attention to one already hard nipple even as he shrugged off the
offending robe completely.
	
"Nay," Legolas gasped as the Elf-knight moved even lower to lave the
taut planes of his abdomen.  "I can tell the difference.  I will have
no one else in our bed with us."
	
"As to that, the bed can wait."
	
Legolas shuddered as his groin was licked and his thighs gently
bitten.  And then he pressed hard against the wall, needing the
support, when Elrohir ran his tongue along his length.  It had been a
long week and, Elbereth! how he had missed the dark-haired twin. 
Moments later, he could no longer think about anything as his mate
engulfed him in the warmth of his mouth.
	
Elrohir was a master at such pleasuring.  Long experience and a
predilection for variety in his early youth had taught him more than
was considered seemly even amongst Elfkind.  Legolas sometimes
wondered if it was a blessing or a torment or both to have so much
knowledge put to good if cataclysmic use on him. 
	
He was soon reduced to a shaking, barely standing mass of thrumming
nerves and shivery muscles grasping at Elrohir's shoulders to brace
himself.  He would have gladly collapsed onto the floor for his knees
had suddenly grown uncooperative and threatened to give way.  But
Elrohir's strong hands and arms held him up, trapping him against the
wall.  And then the Elf-lord went even further, reaching up behind him
and sliding a finger into his body to stroke him from within.  Legolas
hissed at the unexpected contact, nearly rearing but for the twin's
firm hold on his hips. 
	
It was too much.  That suckling mouth, the swirling tongue, his
stroking finger.  Completion came in rolling waves of sensation that
swept up and down his whole body before pooling explosively in the
center of his being.  With a strangled cry he spilled his release into
the Elf-knight's willing mouth. 
	
He would have sunk to his knees if Elrohir had not risen and caught
him in his arms, a knowing smile on his handsome countenance.  He
clung to the twin, trying to force some semblance of order upon the
sensual chaos in his mind and body. 
	
"That-that was quite a welcome," he finally managed to say, his voice
still ragged.
	
Elrohir grinned.  "You're very welcome," he replied impishly.
	
Legolas looked at him with fond exasperation.  "You always manage to
undo me," he said.  "I doubt I will ever be able to catch up with
you."
	
"But I enjoy it when you try, Calenlass," the warrior teased him. 
"You are a fast learner and your apprenticeships seldom last longer
than the space of a night.  Indeed, your mastery in swordplay is not
to be belittled."
	
The prince's eyes gleamed darkly as his passion began to build anew
even as his strength returned.  Elrohir also had a way with words that
was guaranteed to ignite his desire for the darkling Elf.  It was an
addiction, dangerous to the archer's mind, that waxed with each
passing year and threatened his already tenuous hold on his emotions
and desires where the younger twin was concerned.
	
The Elven prince had come a long way since the days when he had
declared he would never care for the touch of an ellon, or male Elf. 
Elrohir had awakened in him the long-dormant Edhil duality the
Greenwood Elves had tried to subdue in their need to keep their
numbers substantial and formidable amidst the vagaries of life in
Middle-earth.  As love slowly overtook him his initial hesitant
pliancy with Elrohir progressed into willing and then eager complicity
in their couplings.  Their subsequent espousal had further intensified
that driving desire to join their bodies and souls as often as
possible. 
	
Unbidden, the need to reestablish control over himself came upon him. 
It was a need that had grown since their binding.  A need he
assiduously fed for fear of losing himself to the inexplicable pull he
felt deep within his being whenever he was with Elrohir.  Without
warning, he insistently drew the warrior into the bedchamber and
pushed him down onto the bed.  Before Elrohir could muster a question
or comment of any kind, he pinned him down with his body and sealed
his mouth to the other Elf's, effectively silencing him.
	
Faint alarm rang in Elrohir's mind.  He had come to recognize this
pattern of sudden reaction after he pleasured the other.  It
invariably led to the archer demanding that he yield.  Indeed, in the
past year alone, the balance between them had tilted severely with
Legolas taking him so often that he could actually count the times
when their positions were reversed.  He had the disturbing feeling
that they were no longer equals in their conjugal bed and, even more
troubling, that Legolas preferred it that way.
	
But his misgivings were swept away as the archer now paid homage to
his body in turn.  Despite their earlier banter, Legolas was no
laggard in the love-arts.  As Elrohir had observed, he was a swift
apprentice and could easily reduce his spouse to a state of helpless
wanting.  He proceeded to do so now, hungrily claiming Elrohir with as
much dexterity as the warrior had done to him but a few minutes
earlier.
	
The Elf-knight gasped as he was mounted swiftly and arbitrarily.  But
as always, the mere thought that he shared himself with Legolas, that
it was his golden prince who took him thus was enough to vanquish all
other considerations.  He gave in to the tumult within him, allowed
himself to ride the crest of pleasure their joinings never failed to
unleash.  As both let go of all control, the binding-channel opened
fully between them and their feelings flowed across unhindered.  The
result was a shared swathing of mounting rapture, an experience that
defied all description.  Elrohir reached his peak uttering one name,
the only name that meant the world to him.  Hearing his own name upon
the archer's lips as he, too, came to completion, further heightened
his bliss. 
	
Legolas collapsed against Elrohir's chest, still panting slightly.  He
listened to the Elf-warrior's heartbeat as it slowly returned to its
normal pace.  Agile fingers tenderly raked his silver-gold tresses,
untangling the silky strands.  It was a soothing gesture that made him
more than content to be back in the twin's arms.
	
"Definitely a most apt pupil," he heard Elrohir's still breathy but
gently teasing voice.
	
He raised his head and looked at the twin, liking the rosy glow of his
countenance.  He grinned cheekily.  "I merely followed the example of
a most competent teacher," he replied.
	
The grey eyes were soft with affection.  Whatever had disturbed the
Elf-lord's calm earlier was quiescent for now.  Relieved, Legolas lay
back beside him.
	
"Valar, 'tis good to be back," he commented lazily. 
	
Elrohir glanced at him, another smile beginning to grace his sinuous
lips.
	
Legolas suddenly snickered.  He looked at the darkling Elf, eyes
twinkling with merriment.  "You do not know how much I missed this,"
he said.  "You may count yourself fortunate that there was no Elf in
the scouting party with looks to match yours.  Else I might have
turned to him or her for relief!"
	
He turned his eyes upwards to stare into the shadows of the ceiling as
he spoke and thereby missed Elrohir's startled then incredulous
reaction.  The twin could not believe his ears.  He felt his heart
grow heavy once more.  Did Legolas not realize just how much such
words stung?
	
He swallowed hard and tried to push away his doubts.  Mayhap he was
making too much of what was most certainly a jocular remark.  But try
as he might he could not dispel the pain.  He could make as many
excuses as he could think of but it all came down to one immutable
fact.  Espoused Edhil never spoke thus, not even in jest.  It was
regarded as execrable taste for one binding-mate to make allusions to
the other's potential for unfaithfulness; it was downright repugnant
to suggest one's own self might be tempted to it.  Bound Elves'
instinctive regard for their spouses was supposed to prevent them from
even bantering about something so unheard of and forbidden as
infidelity within a living relationship.   
	
Again, worry assailed him.  Why did Legolas not seem to feel this
natural restraint?  This was not the first time he had made such
allusions; only the most recent and barefaced.
	
"Elrohir?"  The archer's voice cut into his troubled thoughts.  "Why
so quiet of a sudden?"
	
Elrohir tried to smile, determinedly suppressing the welling sadness
that seemed to overtake him so frequently of late.  He shook his head
and simply said, "I was thinking how much I missed *you*," placing
careful emphasis on the pronoun.
	
It did not seem to register on the prince's mind for he only smirked
and replied, "I should hope so!"
	
Elrohir quelled a sigh of frustration.  He gazed at the archer and
quietly studied his elegant profile.  The contrast between them went
far beyond mere coloring and carriage.  The ways of their minds and
demeanor also diverged significantly. 
	
Elrohir, child of Eldarin Imladris, for all his ferocity and passion,
was stately grace and deep learning personified.  The latter was to be
expected of a son of Elrond, the former a legacy of the High-elven
culture of the last great haven of the Noldor in Middle-earth.
	
Legolas, on the other hand, though of royal blood, was as elemental as
nature itself.  Born of the noblest of Grey-elves, he was still a
child of Greenwood. 
	
Thranduil was by no means an unlearned, backwoods Elf.  He had lived
amongst the Eldar of Lindon in his youth ere his and his kinsman
Celeborn's removal to the forests in the east where they had founded
realms and ruled over the more rustic Silvan Elves.  As such he had
not neglected his children's education.  But much had been withheld
from them because of the Greenwood kingdom's isolation from the other
elven realms.
	
Lithesome as the mighty stags that roamed the forest glades, Legolas
was far more innocent than Elrohir had ever been as an Elfling in
fabled Rivendell.  He was certainly wiser than most mere mortals due
to the many years of his life and his long association with the
Peredhil twins.  But in comparison to Elrohir with his loremaster's
learning, he was still very much a student; an eager and able one but
a student nevertheless.
	
Yet that did not in any way diminish his allure in Elrohir's eyes. 
His heart was pure and his mind ever hungry for knowledge.  And he had
a zest for life that brightened his eyes from within.  For these
reasons and many more, the twin had come to love him as he had never
loved any other, be they Elf male or maid.  And always will, he
admitted gravely to himself.
	
He reached for the prince's hand, entwining their supple fingers
fondly.  "I love you, Calenlass," he whispered. 
  	
To his disconcertment, Legolas looked at him with amusement and said
half-jokingly, "I must decline your not so subtle hint, roch vreg."
-wild stallion.  He stretched out his lean form, sleek as a panther. 
"For once, I must plead exhaustion and would take some rest."  He
withdrew his hand from the warrior's clasp.
	
Elrohir nearly choked at the careless words and offhand manner. 
Trembling violently, he managed to make a reply though it took all his
will not to imbue it with the acid it so fervently begged for.  If he
allowed his anger to surface now, Legolas would respond in kind. 
Elrohir was in no mood for another quarrel.  Truth be told, he had
neither the heart nor the energy for one this night.  Indeed, day by
day both dwindled as did his will to mend the ever-growing rift
between them.

"'Twas no hint for anything, Legolas," he said tightly.
	
The fair-haired Elf glanced at him, puzzled by the tone of his voice. 
But the twin was staring impassively into the dark.  A prickle of
unease touched the prince.  Unfortunately, the irresistible lure of
much needed sleep overcame him and he dismissed it, thinking to deal
with whatever the problem was in the morning.
	
Elrohir heard the change in his breathing as it turned into the steady
rhythm that went with slumber.  He closed his eyes tightly, stifling
the anguished groan that longed to escape his lips.  What has become
of him? he asked himself not for the first time.  Where was the sweet
and affectionate prince he had first loved as a friend, then brother,
and finally as his heart's mate?
	
He lay in the dark, unable to find rest, feeling incongruously alone. 
That wounded him keenly.  To share the same bed with Legolas, to know
the warmth of his body close by and still feel so utterly alone and
forsaken - it was unbearable.
	
Silently, he slipped out of bed, pulled on a loose shirt and trousers
and left the room.

*******
It was well past the midnight hour when Legolas knocked on the door of
his sister's apartment.  A few minutes later, a sleepy Elladan opened
the door.  He blinked woozily when he saw the archer.  He came fully
awake in an instant. 
	
"Legolas, do you realize what time it is?" he scowled.
	
"Forgive me, gwanur"-kinsman-Legolas apologized.  "But Elrohir is not
in our rooms and I wondered if you knew where he might be."
	
The older twin stared at him a moment.  Then, as if coming to a
decision, he stepped back and motioned to the prince to enter the
sitting room.  Puzzled, Legolas did so then stopped in surprise.
	
There, stretched out upon the couch, was Elrohir, fast asleep. 
Legolas looked at Elladan in confusion.  The darkling Elf answered his
unvoiced question.
	
"He came to us a few hours ago asking if he could stay here," he said. 
"He said he did not want to be alone."
	
The statement was like a slap to the archer.  "But he was not alone!"
he exclaimed in a hushed voice, conscious of his slumbering sister in
the chamber beyond.
	
"Mayhap, he felt like it," Elladan pointed out.
	
"But why?"
	
Elladan glowered at his friend, wondering if he was truly unknowing of
the distress he had caused Elrohir or if he was being deliberately
obtuse.
	
"Were you happy to come home to him?" he challenged the other.
	
Legolas stared at the older twin in surprise.  "Of course I was.  He
knows I missed him."
	
"Nay, you told him you missed your couplings.  There is a world of
difference between missing someone and missing an act that can be
easily assuaged by any willing body."
	
Legolas started, recalling his jape.  "Is that what drove him here?"
he said incredulously.  "'Tis uncommonly sensitive of him to take
offense at a mere jest."
	
Elladan hissed with exasperation.  First Nimeithel, now Legolas.  But
at least his wife had the mood swings wrought by her pregnancy to
blame for her sometimes unruly tongue.  Otherwise, she was very much
aware of the indecorousness of such talk and never intentionally spoke
thus to him.  What excuse did Legolas have?  
	
"Uncommonly sensitive?" he growled, his eyebrows rising in anger. 
"And would you be so calm had he told you that in your absence he had
been tempted to take some withy maid or strapping Elf to bed?"
	
Legolas paused then shook his head, acknowledging the older twin's
point. 
	
"Elves do not jest about such things," Elladan pressed on caustically. 
"Not if we care for our loved ones' feelings.  I am surprised you do
not know this."
	
The prince stayed silent, Elladan's rebuke striking him to the core. 
Elladan exhaled, willing his anger to fade and not quite succeeding. 
"You left him with nary a word," he chided.  "He had to learn of your
departure from a servant during breakfast.  Have you any idea how
humiliating that was for him?  An Elf who does not know where his
spouse is?"
	
Legolas blanched guiltily.  He had barked at Elrohir for voicing the
same sentiment.  Then, hardly had the Elf-knight tried to mend matters
between them, when he had hurt him once more with his thoughtless
sally.
	
"Will he come back with me?" he asked hesitantly. 
	
Elladan heaved a frustrated sigh.  "I do not know.  It would depend
on-"  He regarded the prince acidly.  "Tell me something, gwanur, when
was the last time you told him you love him?"
	
The broad hint was not lost on the archer.  He flinched inwardly once
more.  I love you, Greenleaf, the younger twin had said earlier.  His
response had been worse than inadequate.  It had been downright
criminal. 

Seeing his law-brother's reaction, Elladan shook his head and said
with a touch of aspersion,  "I thought as much.  Ai, Legolas, you
astound me with your unending capacity to hurt him."  He silently
retreated into the bedchamber leaving behind a shocked prince.
	
Chastened, Legolas softly approached his sleeping bereth and knelt
before him.  Uncertain how to rouse him, he settled instinctively on a
warm kiss.  Elrohir moaned then opened his eyes confusedly.  They
widened in surprise when he beheld the prince.
	
"Please come back," Legolas softly implored him.  When the twin
hesitated, he added pleadingly, "'Tis lonely without you."
	
After another pause, Elrohir finally nodded and rose along with the
prince.  They silently walked the short distance to their apartments. 
	
Uneasy at Elrohir's demeanor, Legolas sought to dispel the
uncomfortable silence between them.  Once within, he stopped the
Elf-knight from slipping back into their bed and took his hands in
his, squeezing them earnestly.  He peered into the twilight eyes with
anxiety.
	
"What I said earlier was in jest, Aduial," he said.  "I know it was in
ill-taste and should never have been uttered, but I swear it was
nothing more than that.  You are the only one I could ever want,
Elrohir.  Indeed, I missed you these past many days, I truly did."  
	
The warrior remained pensive.  "If you say so," Elrohir briefly
answered.
	
Legolas winced at the passive response.  Recalling the older twin's
pointed assertions, Legolas realized how correct Elladan had been
about his behavior and Elrohir's feelings.
	
He cupped the warrior's face, made his spouse look at him.  "My
actions were unconscionable," he admitted.  "Please forgive me."  He
felt the sting of remorse smite him when Elrohir's eyes failed to
regain their argent light.  "I love you, my Elf-knight," he whispered
fervently.  "Never doubt that I do."  He sealed his mouth to Elrohir's
in as tender a kiss as he could muster. 
	
For a moment, Elrohir hesitated.  How often had they gone through this
before?  Always the prince would try to repair whatever damage he had
inflicted upon their relationship but he did it piecemeal and it never
lasted.  Sooner or late, there would be another confrontation and they
would repeat the same process all over again.  And still he had no
explanation for his mate's behavior.  How could he when Legolas
refused to speak of it and any attempt to discuss the problem only
resulted in discord? 
	
But in the end, he could not resist Legolas' overtures.  He had meant
it when he told Elladan his heart belonged to the prince.  Even if he
shredded it to bits and cast the pieces into the deeps of the sea.  He
curled his arms around Legolas and pulled him flush against him.  When
the archer pressed into him invitingly, he did not resist and allowed
Legolas to draw him down onto their bed. 
	
For this night at least, he forgot his worries as the heated sweetness
of their joining numbed his mind and caressed his soul.

****************
Glossary:
Edhil - Elven, Elves
Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir's pet name for Legolas)
bereth - spouse
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)

===========================================

Chapter III: Conundrum
The scouts returned with reports of more mysteriously slain victims in
the northern reaches of the forest and on the less travelled trails
that skirted the borders of Greenwood.  All bore the same lack of
discernable marks that might indicate the cause of their deaths.

The messengers returned from the eastern settlements, the south of the
forest and Dale and Esgaroth with letters of acknowledgement.  None
knew anything of such strange slayings and were therefore all the more
grateful for the Elves' warnings.  But the Dwarves of the Lonely
Mountain had a different reply and it was delivered personally.

"Gimli!"

Legolas delightedly and rapidly approached his friend as soon as he
entered the great hall.  Gimli immediately stiffened defensively.

"Keep your distance, Elf!" he exclaimed in alarm.  "I'll have no
confounded hugging for a welcome!"

The Elven prince laughed out loud and came to a stop before him. 
Chuckling, he laid an affectionate hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.  In
turn, Gimli grinned and patted the Elf's arm warmly.

"You have not changed at all, Gimli, thank Eru," Legolas smiled.  "But
what are you doing up north?  Last we heard you were delving a new
hall at Aglarond."

"You're not the only one who misses kith and kin on occasion," Gimli
retorted.  "But if you must know, my father has been somewhat poorly
this past year and I thought to spend time with him.  He is quite old
after all."

Legolas nodded.  "Aye, but still a most redoubtable Dwarf
nonetheless."  He eyed his friend curiously.  "You did not come here
just to pay me a visit."

Gimli shook his head.  "I bear tidings that may have much to do with
the warning you sent my people."

"Indeed.  Then you must speak of it at once to my father.  Come, my
friend."

Gimli's tale was indeed much related to the Elves' grisly discoveries. 
As he recounted it to the Elvenking, his sons and law-sons in
Thranduil's study, the others were seen to shift uneasily in their
seats as the eerie story unfolded.

Just a few weeks past, a party of Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had
stumbled across two of their fellows on the scarcely used road that
wound its way around the foothills of the Ered Mithrin.  There was
seldom any use for the old road nowadays for few cared to brave the
perils of orcs and bandits who made the Grey Mountains their haunt. 
But Dwarves still traversed the path that led them close to one of
their former homes.  It was more sentimentality than anything else
though a Dwarf would rather perish than admit to this.  And being of a
hardy race, they were not easily cowed by the dangers posed by orkish
or human brigands.

Thus, they had been startled by the appearance of the two travelers. 
Both had looked more dead than alive, their eyes strangely vacant,
their bodies oddly drawn, as if something had been drained from them. 
And they had babbled incessantly and incoherently about their
assailants.  Human women.  What these women had done to them was not
clear but they had somehow managed to escape with their lives still
flickering though severely diminished.  Both had since lost
consciousness and now slept, if one could call such unfeeling,
undreaming oblivion sleep.

Careful questioning of the Dwarf-lord elicited the information that
neither victim had been propositioned as the human victims
consistently were.  They'd apparently been attacked as they made their
way along the road.  And, no, it had not been a large group that had
waylaid them.  Their ramblings seemed to indicate two women at most.

The Dwarves had not known what to make of the outlandish babbling of
the two until Thranduil's warning arrived.  Realizing that the
incident might actually be but part of a string of several and recent
occurrences, they had sent Gimli to discover what he might from his
Elven friends.

Silence reigned for several minutes as the Elves pondered his news. 
At length, Elrohir spoke.

"Curious," he murmured.  "If your kinsmen were waylaid by the same
creatures that slew the victims we have thus far discovered, 'tis
puzzling why they did not succumb but were merely--drained as you put
it."

"Aye, that is indeed a puzzle," Gimli agreed.  "Might it have
something to do with our being of another race?"

"It might," Thranduil mused.  "Your kindred is stronger and more
enduring than human-kind.  Mayhap you are more resistant to whatever
means they employ to kill their victims."

Elladan glanced at his brother.  Elrohir had risen to walk to the map
that graced one wall of the study.  It was a beautifully and
accurately rendered map of Middle-earth.  The younger twin began to
trace a path with his finger along the northernmost reaches of Eryn
Lasgalen all the way to the deserted road by the Ered Mithrin.

"What is it, gwanneth?"-younger twin?-he asked.

Elrohir stared at the map for a few seconds before looking back at
them.  "All the incidents occurred in the north, whether on the forest
paths or open roads, and all involved travelers moving between the
eastern settlements and Dale and Esgaroth.  No attacks have happened
deep within Eryn Lasgalen or in the heart of the towns and cities."

"Meaning?" Brethildor inquired.

"It would seem they are yet limited in number that they hesitate to
invade populous communities."

"Aye, that is an idea," Elladan said.  He joined his brother before
the map.  "But where do they conceal themselves?  Whatever they may be
they must have a haven to retreat to."

"Might these killers hide themselves amongst their kindred?" Gimli
suggested.

"Possible," Thranduil remarked. 

"But improbable," Elrohir said.  "There has not been a single incident
outside of this specific area, which is already a fearsome distance
from other human settlements.  Yet there are plentiful byways to the
west and east wherein to ambush unsuspecting wayfarers.  Nay, our
slayers have confined themselves to this particular region as of now. 
It stands to reason therefore that they also conceal themselves in the
same area.

Legolas glanced from one twin to the other.  The brethren had directed
their grey gazes at one focal point on the map.

"The mountains?" he said sharply.  "Do you believe they hide
themselves in the Ered Mithrin?"

Elladan nodded.  "No one now enters the mountains for any reason other
than concealment as the orcs and brigands do."

"Though there has been a dearth of banditry in recent years," Elrohir
quietly put in.  "And the disappearances of women have ceased as
well."

There was a concerted gasp.  "You think those two events are related?"
Thranduil said.

"I cannot claim anything with certitude," Elrohir replied.  "But it
seems too much of a coincidence that soon after these disappearances
should stop that these killings should begin.  And both cases involve
women.  The first as victims, the second as predators.  Couple this
with the sudden halt in incursions by the human outlaws who long
frequented the Grey Mountains and one might surmise that there is a
connection somewhere."

"The outlaws may have been the first victims," Melthoron choked.  "Ai,
that is a sound conjecture, gwanur."-kinsman.

"And a frightening one," Thranduil said grimly.

*******
They continued to discuss the matter during the noonday meal.  After
explaining the situation to his wife, Elladan joined his twin in
analyzing everything they'd learned so far while Legolas and Gimli
contributed their own ideas now and anon.

At length, Elladan noticed the odd gleam in Elrohir's eyes.  "What
have you got in mind?" he queried.

Elrohir pursed his mouth musingly.  "I believe a trip to the Ered
Mithrin is warranted," he replied.  "We knew the mountains long ago,
gwaniuar."-older twin.  "Best we put our memories to good use now.

Nimeithel frowned.  "You would dare so perilous an undertaking?" she
objected.  "Hervenn!"-husband!

Elladan clasped her hand but before he could speak, Elrohir
forestalled him.  "I did not say we would both go.  I will do this
alone."  At Elladan's indignant protests, he added: "Nimeithel is very
near her time.  She will need you close by, tôren."-my brother.

Elladan snorted.  "And what good would I be worrying about you *and*
the possibility that whatever evil is out there may reach out to harm
my wife and child?"  He looked seriously at Nimeithel. 
"Melethril"-lover-"I do not desire to leave your side but neither can
I allow Elrohir to go alone.  Not when this mystery needs solving and
soon.  We must not allow more lives to be claimed if we can help it."

Nimeithel bit her lip then nodded resignedly.  Legolas, however,
covered Elrohir's hand with his and declared: "I will go with you."

Elrohir shook his head.  "I would not put you in such danger,
Legolas," he said.  "You already faced almost certain ruin when you
left on the Quest.  No one should embark on such an endeavor twice in
his life."

Legolas' eyes flashed warningly.  "You would ask me to let you face
danger without me?" he retorted.  "I cannot, Elrohir.  I will not
endure lurking in craven safety while my mate stalks evil and possible
death."  His grip on Elrohir's hand tightened.  "My path lies with
you, Aduial, even unto the end of life.  I will go with you."

Elrohir gazed at him in some surprise.  Such displays of the prince's
love for him had grown so increasingly infrequent that any took him
quite aback.  And touched him so deeply his heart and soul willingly
set aside whatever misgivings they harbored.  He caught Elladan's
dubious expression and chose to ignore it. 

"Thank you, Calenlass," he softly said with a gentle smile.  For some
reason, it made Legolas blush and he wondered anew at his mate's
mercurial moods.

Gimli harrumphed at this point.  "Well then, when do we leave?"

Legolas looked at him with upraised eyebrows.  "We?"

Gimli turned a pugnacious countenance upon him.  "You need someone to
keep an eye on you young 'uns."

"Young!"  Legolas nearly choked on the word, caught as he was between
mirth and umbrage.

"Well, not in years perhaps," Gimli declared.  "But sometimes *you*
give me cause to wonder if you've ever really grown up!"

Nimeithel burst into laughter at her brother's patently offended mien. 
Elladan smirked with just the barest trace of malice while Elrohir
grinningly squeezed his discomfited mate's hand.

They informed Thranduil of their plans immediately after the meal. 
The Elvenking was not overly pleased but, being of a practical bent of
mind, he also knew he could not dissuade them and that he should not. 
They needed answers and if these were to be found in the Grey
Mountains, then that is where they would have to go.  Not that he
cared to sacrifice his son or sons-by-law in the process but, as they,
he knew and accepted the burdens of duty and honor.  And so he gave
them his blessings however grudging the giving may have been in his
love and concern for them.

Later when he and Legolas returned to their chamber, Elrohir was
surprised anew.  He was reaching for his weapons to ready them for the
journey when the archer stopped him.  He glanced at Legolas
questioningly.

"Why did you think I would agree to be left behind?" the prince
queried.  "Since when have I cared to be parted from you?"

Elrohir gazed at him for a space before answering.  Such declarations
from the archer further cemented his conviction that whatever drove
Legolas to behave otherwise at other times was not something he was
fully cognizant of.  Hence, Elrohir's never faltering love for him
even when he yearned at times to put distance between them.

"I once watched you walk into gathering darkness," he quietly replied. 
"I do not wish to do so again."

Legolas frowned.  "I am as much a warrior as you," he reminded his
spouse.  "Neither of us can refuse our duty even if it should demand
our very lives."

"But I am also a bereth, a spouse, and I cannot deny my heart's desire
to keep you safe and happy," Elrohir gently pointed out.

"That is absurd, Elrohir," Legolas said, his voice taking on a slight
edge.  "I will not have anyone shield me, not even you."

"Yet shield you I will, whether you wish it or not, seron
vell"-beloved -Elrohir replied.  "I cannot help myself anymore than
you can stop breathing."

Legolas opened his mouth to retort.  But he suddenly saw Elrohir's
eyes change from open to wary and became aware that the Elf-knight was
readying himself for a verbal battle.  The prince flushed
uncomfortably.  Contrary to general opinion, he was not wholly
oblivious of the strain in their relationship or that he was oft
responsible for it.

"I suppose you are right," he muttered.  He turned away abruptly to
see to his own preparations.  But he did not turn away swiftly enough
to avoid seeing the pensiveness return to Elrohir's eyes. 

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he paused and looked back at
the warrior.  Elrohir had abandoned his initial intent to bring out
his weapons and had walked onto the balcony instead.  He was staring
down at the cold-withered gardens, obviously attempting to regain his
composure.  Legolas bit his lip.  He had not meant to be so sharp in
his reaction.  It was just that he so disliked being coddled in any
manner.

A flutter of fear hit the pit of his stomach.  He was always uneasy
when Elrohir drew away from him as he did now.  He'd been keeping
secrets from his binding-mate and knew that this had contributed to
their present troubles.  Yet proud as he was he could not bring
himself to speak of the matter that had upended all his notions of his
very self.  It was simply too discomfiting a thing to admit even to
his beloved Elf-knight.     

Sighing, he followed Elrohir and, coming up behind him, wrapped his
arms around the warrior and pulled him back against him.  To his
intense relief and thankfulness, the twin did not resist or pull away
but relaxed into the embrace.  

"I can take care of myself, Aduial," he murmured.  "Surely you know
that."

Elrohir half turned his head to regard him sideways.  "I do," he said
softly.  "If I desire to protect you, 'tis because I love you.  I
cannot bear seeing you take any hurt no matter how much I esteem your
prowess."  He hesitated then plunged on.  "Why can you not accept this
from me, Legolas?"

He felt the lean arms around him stiffen and he steeled himself for
yet another confrontation.  But then Legolas perceptibly forced down
his tension and pressed his lips against his neck.  The sensation made
him shiver involuntarily.

"I will try."

The offer was muted and oh so reluctantly made but that it had been
made at all was cause enough for Elrohir to smile.  He still did not
know what had altered Legolas' demeanor these past few years.  But
moments such as this buoyed his spirit enough to strengthen his
resolve to uncover the reason behind his mate's waywardness and, the
Valar willing, heal whatever ailed him and their relationship.

He turned in Legolas' arms and sealed his lips to the archer's,
catching him by surprise.  After a few heart-stopping moments, he drew
away and peered into Legolas' now darkened eyes. 

"And now whither?" he archly inquired.

Legolas' eyes deepened into indigo. 

"Bed," said he and promptly pulled Elrohir back into the privacy of
their chamber.

******************
Glossary:
Calenlass - Greenleaf
Aduial - Twilight

===========================================

Chapter IV: Traces
The twins led the way once they reached the Ered Mithrin.  Centuries
ago, the brethren had dared to explore this region in their
vengeance-driven questing against orcs and their ilk.  Thus, they
alone knew something of the mountains that were said to harbor dragons
to this day though no worm had evidenced itself since Smaug's demise
over Esgaroth more than a century ago.  Even Gimli had not visited the
Dwarves' old realm in Mt. Gundabad though he had read and heard
extensively about it.  Thus, he depended as much on the twins as
Legolas did.  Their long experience tracking orcs even in the most
hostile of places now served them in good stead as they wended their
way through the frozen and barren hillocks and canyons of the Grey
Mountains.

Whether astride their steeds on wide pathways or leading the animals
through narrow passes, they followed the scanty clues their trained
eyes espied here and there.  Footprints captured in the now cold,
rock-hard soil, distinctly non-orkish in shape and size.  Long strands
of hair caught on low-lying branches.  Torn patches of diaphanous
fabric snagged on thorny bushes.  As they progressed deeper into the
mountains, one thing became ever clearer.  More than orcs had
traversed these paths but not one human brigand had yet evinced his
existence.  Who then other than the goblins called this desolate place
home?

On this peril-fraught journey, Gimli proved a most stalwart companion
if a vociferous one when it came to impugning the merits of the beast
he and Legolas rode.  Never having learned to be completely at ease
upon a horse, he was understandably annoyed at having to ride one now
if only to keep up with his friends.  It did not help matters that he
did not even have the dubious security of a saddle for his peace of
mind since all three Elves, as was the fashion of their kindred, rode
bareback and relied not on bit or reins to control their mounts.

However, he was not in the least troubled by the region's isolation or
weighed down by its melancholic atmosphere as his companions were.  In
this he proved most invaluable, raising their spirits by regaling them
with one humorous story or another.  And of these tales he had a great
store.  As such they were all in a much lighter frame of mind by the
time they reached the quarter mark up the mountains' main trail.

It was not exactly the safest route to take for orcs used it
frequently.  But the clues they had so far found led them along this
road and so they followed it but with utmost caution.  Always one
remained on watch while the others rested and never did they relax
their guard even for an instant so long as they stayed on this path.

On the fifth night of their journey, they made camp some distance away
from the trail for it would be fatally foolhardy to remain close by
especially at a time when orcs were sure to be abroad.

While the others made ready to sleep, Elrohir sought higher ground
from which he could view their surroundings.  He walked up a low
tree-crowned hill several paces away.  He was surprised when Legolas
joined him.

"You should get some rest," he told his mate.

"I will," Legolas replied.  'But I need to do something first."

"And that is?"

"This."

The Elf-knight gasped as he was suddenly thrust against a sturdy tree
and kissed into silence.  A moment later, he was shocked when he felt
Legolas' fingers swiftly undoing the lacing on his breeches and even
more shocked when the prince pressed hard against him and he realized
the latter's breeches were already undone.  He managed to break the
kiss long enough to speak.

"Legolas, why are you doing this?" he whispered roughly.

"What other reason can there be?" the prince retorted.  "It has been a
week since we last coupled, Aduial, and I am nigh ready to burst!"  He
hungrily reclaimed the warrior's mouth.

His words had the desired effect of bringing Elrohir's shaft to swift
and potent arousal.  Yet when Legolas released his lips to nibble at
his throat, he made one last stab at rationality.  

"I am supposed to be on watch," he protested.  Legolas lifted his
golden head.

"Not at the moment," he smugly informed him.  "I asked Elladan to give
us a few minutes together."  Elrohir's eyes widened at the archer's
brazenness.  "So, are you going to cooperate or not?" Legolas purred
challengingly.

Elrohir growled, grasped him by the hips and hauled him back.  There
was no chance for a full coupling here but the warrior was more than
talented at other forms of pleasuring.  Even as he captured the
archer's lips in a pillaging kiss, he wickedly ground their groins
together, sliding their turgid lengths against each other in sensual
abandon.  Jolting bursts of sheer sensation sparked throughout their
bodies until Legolas was moaning with the ecstasy of it.  He groaned
with frustration when the Elf-knight drew away slightly, grey eyes
alight with a rakish gleam.

"Ai, do not torment me, Elrohir!" he nearly snarled.  "Finish it now!"

With breath-stealing skill, Elrohir complied and before very long
Legolas spent himself with a hoarse cry, his seed mingling with the
Elf-knight's as the other came to completion on the heels of his. 
Leaning against the tree for support, Elrohir gathered his prince
against him.  For a minute or so, they remained thus while awaiting
the slowing of their breathing and heartbeats.

At length, Legolas looked up and, with a sweet smile Elrohir had not
seen in so very long, stole a kiss from the twin.  His smile turned
into a satisfied grin.

"*Now* you're on watch," he said.

Elrohir chuckled and released him.  They straightened up and swiftly
fastened their breeches, laughing softly at the telltale stains that
marked them.  After one more deep kiss, Legolas returned to the
others.  Elrohir watched him vanish into the dark with brightened
eyes.  He could not deny he was much heartened by his spouse's
actions.  He settled into his watch with considerably more enthusiasm.  

Hours later he hurried down the hill and hastened to the others.  For
the past several minutes he had been patently uneasy.  From his perch,
he'd seen nothing suspicious but sensed it he did.  Something was
wrong and he was not about to wait for it to happen. 

He was within shouting distance of the camp when he felt the veriest
cold shiver upon his nape.  Instinctively he ducked.  Just as a black
bladed dagger winged across where his head had previously been and
embedded itself in the tree to his side.  Suddenly, more than two
dozen orcs sprung from the shadows.
 	
"Legolas!  Elladan!  Gimli!"  Elrohir cried out even as he swung his
sword at a goblin, cleanly slicing off its head.
	
Legolas was off his back like a shot, hands fitting arrows to bow in a
blur of movement.  He took down several of the creatures before he was
fully standing.
	
An orc pounced on Elladan only to be impaled by the warrior Elf's out
thrust sword.  Elladan jumped to his feet and slashed swiftly at two
more of the creatures, taking off the arm of one and the hand of the
other.
	
Gimli, slower to rise than the Elves, wasted no time stumbling to his
feet but grabbed his axe and swung hard at a goblin as it flung itself
at him.  He had the grim satisfaction of watching its head fly in the
opposite direction from its body before applying himself to ridding a
few others of their heads or limbs.

The melee was fast and furious.  Though surprisingly well-armored and
bearing curiously elegant weapons, the orcs were no match for the
Elven warriors and their Dwarf friend.  More accustomed to ambushing
unwary travelers or raiding poorly defended hamlets, these goblins
were ferocious but hardly skilled in combat.  In minutes, the small
clearing was littered with stinking corpses and various mismatched
heads and appendages.  The victors took a moment to catch their
breaths before moving to sift through the remains to discern if these
orcs had anything to do with their mission.
	
Elladan lifted one of the enemy swords in puzzlement, ran his fingers
over the black breastplate of a fallen goblin.
	
"This is wrought from galvorn," he remarked.  He tossed the sword to
Elrohir who examined it with great interest.   

"I beg your pardon, but what is galvorn?" Gimli inquired, brow creased
in perplexity.

"It was a metal invented by the Elven-smith, Eöl, in the First Age,"
Elladan explained.

"The First Age?!" Gimli echoed with some amazement.

The Elf-lord nodded.  "It was as hard as steel even when thin and was
ideal for armor."  He nudged the orc on the ground before him with his
foot.  "Were these goblins more skilled, we would have been hard-put
to best them, protected as they were."

"But how did these orcs get hold of such weapons?" Elrohir wondered,
as he admiringly hefted the sword.  "Galvorn is all but legend now. 
The secret of its making is believed to have died with Eöl."
	
"Perhaps they were plundered from the ruins of your ancient elven
cities," Gimli suggested.
	
"Nay, these are of recent make," Elrohir said.  "And the only extant
example left of a weapon wrought of this metal in the Elder Days is in
Cirdan's Halls at the Grey Havens, left by the last survivors of
Gondolin." 

"Er, Gondolin?" Gimli repeated.  "Forgive me but I know little of your
people from those days.  Why Gondolin?"

"Eöl was wed to Aredhel, sister of Turgon, king of Gondolin," Elrohir
said.

"Was he?" Legolas questioned.  "The tale I heard in Greenwood is that
he took her by force."

Elladan shrugged.  "The truth is lost in the mists of time.  But she
lived willingly enough with him for many years to give credence to his
claim that she was his wife."

"Why did he have to make a claim?" Gimli asked, getting more and more
confused.

Taking pity on the Dwarf, Elrohir elucidated the matter more
thoroughly.  "Eöl was one of Thingol of Doriath's kin who chose not to
reside within the Girdle of Melian."  When Gimli nodded his
comprehension of that part of elven history, he continued.  "Aredhel
wandered into the forest of Nan Elmoth, which Eöl called home.  'Tis
said he lured her to him and took her as wife.  More than that no one
knows.  She bore him a son but later abandoned him and returned to
Gondolin with their child.  When he followed them and came nigh to the
city, he was captured and brought before Turgon.  At the time, it was
forbidden for anyone who came upon Gondolin to leave the city again
lest its location became known to Morgoth.  Turgon gave Eöl the choice
to remain in the city with his family or face death.  He chose death
but also attempted to kill his son with a poisoned dart.  Aredhel took
the dart, sickened and died.  And so they threw Eöl from the Caragdûr. 
'Tis said that before he fell he cursed his son for having turned
against him."

"And that last weapon at the Havens?"

"It belonged to his son, Maeglin," Elladan put in.  "Recovered after
he was cast from the Caragdûr by Tuor."  At Gimli's startled
expression, the older twin added: "He betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth and
brought about the city's ruin.  It seems he nursed a passion for our
foremother, Idril, Turgon's daughter."

"But you Elves do not wed with such close kin," Gimli mused.

"Exactly.  It was a forbidden passion fed not least by ambition.  I
wager he hoped to gain the throne of Gondolin by a marriage to his
uncle's sole heir.  But she married Tuor of the Third House of the
Edain and he was frustrated in his desire.  It played no small part in
his betrayal of his people for he tried to take Idril when she fled
the sack of the city with her son by Tuor, our grandsire, Eärendil. 
But Tuor caught him and they battled on the walls and, at the last, he
was thrown down the slopes of the Amon Gwareth as his father had been
before him."

Gimli grimaced.  "That is a grim tale," he commented.  "I had read of
Gondolin's fall but not of the treachery that wrought it."

Elladan picked up another sword and swung it experimentally.  It was
perfectly balanced and wickedly sharp to boot. 

"There is another mystery here that needs answering," he said.  "An
enemy who possesses such knowledge would be formidable."

"What do you think then?" Gimli grunted.  "Do these scum have aught to
do with the women we seek?"

"Too soon to say," Elrohir replied.  "Though the very notion sends a
chill up my spine.  If these orcs and those women answer to one
master... "  He shook his head.  "'Tis a daunting thought."

*******************
Glossary:
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)

===========================================

Chapter V: Blow Up
Abandoning the main trail, which they now deemed much too hazardous
despite their need, they made use of the less-travelled byways.  Every
so often one of the twins would return to the trail to seek clues as
to where the non-orkish denizens of the mountains most often headed. 
A pattern soon emerged and they journeyed in a northeastern direction.

Three days after their encounter with the orc band, they set up camp
in a relatively secure glade far from any of the mountain paths.  Here
they would rest for a spell and get their bearings.  Even the twins
needed a respite from relentless tracking.  But they still maintained
their guard, constantly conscious that they were in enemy territory
and an enemy of whom they knew next to nothing at that.

It was on the morning of their second day of encampment that trouble
of another sort broke out.  Elrohir awoke to find Legolas gone.  The
prince had taken the last watch of the previous night.

Alarmed, he roused the others and, after a quick perusal of the
grounds, swiftly picked up the archer's faint trail.  Leaving Elladan
and Gimli behind to guard the camp, he raced off.  He had not gone far
when he saw the archer poised on a high ridge, partially hidden by the
bare branches of a stunted tree.  He was watching something.

Elrohir sucked in his breath as a half-dozen goblins came into sight. 
They were hurrying along a narrow track just below, oblivious of the
Elf warrior who watched them with cold blue eyes.  He gasped as
Legolas raised his bow.

Cursing beneath his breath, he sprinted toward the prince, grabbed him
by the arm before he could loose his arrow and hauled him down. 
Legolas could not help a soft startled yelp.  Immediately the orcs
stopped and looked up in their direction.  Elrohir let out a shrill
birdcall, hoping the orcs would not perceive the difference between it
and Legolas' earlier cry.  The two Elves lay as still as possible.  At
length, they heard the orcs move off, the heavy thuds of their
trudging, dragging feet fading into silence.

They stood up and peered carefully about them.  There were no orcs in
sight.  Elrohir's ruse had worked. 

He took Legolas by an arm and pulled him back to the camp.  "Valar! 
What were you thinking?" he demanded.  "Why did you come here?"

Legolas frowned, disliking the warrior's brusque manner.  "I heard
them approaching and thought to waylay them before they discovered our
location," he said.

Elrohir scowled.  "They were not even aware of our presence.  You
would have called their attention to it had I not stopped you.  That
was a needless chance you took, Legolas."

Legolas bristled at the apparent criticism.  "I did what I deemed
best," he retorted.  "I feared they would pass our way and alert the
rest of their band.  Better to deal with that small number than a
whole den's worth!"

"Better not to deal with them at all if we can help it!" Elrohir
countered.  "We are far from help and 'twould be wiser to avoid any
confrontations if we can."

"This from one who took on whole tribes of orcs in his days of
errantry!" Legolas almost taunted.

Elrohir felt his temper begin to flare.  "Elladan and I never took on
more than we knew we could handle!  As you know full well, Legolas!"

"And I could have taken on that pitiful group as you know full well,
Elrohir!"

"A witless risk to my mind.  I will not have you imperil yourself so
readily!"

By now they had reached the camp.  Elladan and Gimli looked at them in
consternation upon hearing their less than civil exchange.  Legolas
was in a veritable stew, his pride struck hard by Elrohir's
interference.  He yanked his arm out of his mate's grip and faced him,
eyes flashing angrily.

"I am not a child for you to whisk away at the first whiff of danger!"
	
"Nor am I a fool to let you plunge into peril mindlessly!"
	
"I am a warrior, Edhel."-Elf.  "I will not be treated thusly!"

Elladan rolled his eyes and signaled to Gimli to follow him.  The
Dwarf stared at him in surprise then worriedly glanced back at the
arguing pair. 

"We can't leave them like this!" he protested.  "Let us make them see
reason."
	
Elladan placed a firm hand on his shoulder and insistently propelled
him away from the vicinity.
	
"Never come between two quarrelling Elves," Elladan grimly advised
him.  "Especially if one is a Peredhel and the other a Thranduilion."

"But what if orcs-?"

"We will stand watch.  In the meantime, 'tis best to let them have it
out."  When Gimli still hesitated, he added: "Would you bear witness
to what they might say to each other?"

Gimli heaved an exasperated sigh and allowed Elladan to lead him out
of earshot of the pair. 

Meanwhile, Elrohir and Legolas' verbal battle had not abated one whit. 
If anything, it seemed in danger of escalating further.
	
"Our binding does not give you the right to dictate to me what I may
or may not do!" Legolas blasted at the twin.
	
"But it does give me the right to protect you when I feel the need to
do so!" Elrohir countered acidly.
	
Legolas exclaimed vexedly: "Elbereth!  How did I ever wind up with a
jailer for a binding-mate?!"
	
Elrohir's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "You should know, Legolas," he
retorted, "since 'twas you who begged that we bind to each other."
	
Legolas took umbrage at such a charge.  "I would never lower myself to
beg for anything," he spat irately.  "And certainly not from an
overbearing, half-breed Elf!"
	
As soon as the words left his mouth, Legolas knew he'd made a
potentially fatal mistake.  Elrohir's face whitened and his mouth
tightened ominously.  His eyes blazed with unholy rage.  Legolas
attempted to stave off the onslaught of the darkling Elf's fury.
	
"Elrohir, I did not-"
	
He did not get to finish the sentence.  With a snarl, Elrohir tackled
him to the ground.  Instinctively, he fought back and they rolled on
the withered grass, wrestling savagely for mastery.
	
But Elrohir had the advantage of his anger to aid him.  After a brief
struggle, he forced Legolas onto his stomach, grabbed his arms and
pinioned them at an angle designed to break them if the archer
attempted to free himself.
	
He bore down on the prince, using the full length of his body to pin
the other down.  Legolas bit back a cry of pain as the ache in his
arms worsened from Elrohir's merciless hold on them.  He felt the
twin's warm breath against his ear, felt the raven tresses brush his
nape and cheeks.
	
"Get off me!" he howled furiously.
	
"Why, Legolas?" Elrohir hissed tauntingly.  "Does it gall you to lie
beneath a *half-breed Elf*?"
	
The archer froze at the bitter words.  He attempted to speak.  "'Tis
not-"
	
Elrohir cut him off.  "Has it been a torment to you all these years,
ernilen?"-my prince?-he seethed.  "To be bedded by a mere Peredhel? 
To be taken by an Elven mongrel, a lowly adanedhel?" -man-Elf?
	
Shocked, Legolas protested vehemently.  "Nay, that is not so!  I - ah,
Elrohir, you will break my arm!" he said through gritted teeth.
	
For an agonizing moment, he thought his left arm would snap.  And
then, Elrohir abruptly released his arms and got off him in one fluid
motion.
	
Legolas painfully pushed himself off the ground, panting slightly.  He
glanced at Elrohir.  The twin was sitting cross-legged, arms resting
loosely on his thighs, his dark head bowed.  Tentatively, Legolas
reached out to touch him but the Elf-lord pulled back his arm, evading
his hand.  Vaguely alarmed Legolas crept to him and knelt before him. 
He stared wordlessly at his mate.
	
Raw hurt radiated from the Elf-knight's hunched form.  Legolas cringed
inwardly, regretting his harshly spoken words.  What has become of me? 
I am no better than Melthoron in his arrogant youth, he thought,
recalling his once ill-tempered brother's vile tongue.  He held his
breath when Elrohir raised his head to look at him.  His twilight eyes
glittered and his cheeks were streaked with silent tears.  Legolas
could have whipped himself for hurting the Elf-warrior so grievously
that he would weep before him.

"I am sorry I hurt you," Elrohir whispered.     

Legolas flinched at the apology.  He shook his head.  "'Tis I who
should ask for forgiveness," he said contritely.

Elrohir did not seem to hear him.  He lowered his eyes once more,
stared unseeingly at his hands. 

"Elladan and I were called many things by those who thought themselves
our betters," he murmured, his voice low and dull.  "They did not
trouble me for I cared nothing for their opinion or esteem.  But I
never thought that you-"  He broke off as his voice caught and he
shuddered visibly.

"I did not mean it," Legolas said remorsefully.  '"Twas my anger that
spoke, not my heart."

The darkling Elf heaved a sorrowful sigh.  "Bound but for ten years
and already you rue it." 

Shocked into speechlessness by the allegation, Legolas could only
stare at him.  He reached out to take Elrohir's hand but again the
twin evaded his touch.  Legolas exhaled in frustration.

Elrohir looked away, staring into the distance though it was clear he
saw nothing.  "There is no breaking such a bond in Arda," he continued
dispiritedly.  "But for you..."  He swallowed hard, "I will try to
find a way."

The unexpected offer snapped Legolas out of his daze.  Consternation
coursed through his veins like burning ice.

"Nay, I do not desire that!" he cried, forcibly pulling Elrohir into
his arms, refusing to let the twin evade him once more.  "Elrohir, I
love you!"  He pressed his face into the Elvenlord's neck.  "Do not
speak of cleaving us apart."

He felt Elrohir's arms curl around him but the embrace was tentative,
as if the warrior was unsure whether to hold him close.  Legolas drew
back and gazed at him, anxiously looking for any sign that he had
assuaged some of the terrible pain he had inflicted so callously.

The light in the mithril-hued eyes was muted, the vibrancy stilled. 
Love still glowed in their depths but the trust - his Elrohir's trust
was profoundly shaken.  Legolas cupped his mate's face, wondering how
to heal the wound he'd so thoughtlessly dealt. 

"Please, Aduial, do not shut me out," he implored.  When still the
twin failed to respond, he almost sobbed.  Pridefully forcing back his
treacherous tears, he pleaded: "Forgive me, beloved, forgive me.  I
did not mean those words.  Please, Elrohir, I love you."

Impulsively, he crushed his lips against the Elf-knight's and kissed
him with a violence neither had ever thought him capable of.  Even
Elrohir's pain could not withstand the heat and force of the prince's
passion.  He moaned when Legolas refused to relinquish his lips,
gasped as the archer tore at the clasps of his tunic.  He tried to
pull away but Legolas pursued him with all the tenacity of a rÿn, or
hunting hound, on the trail of its prey. 

"Legolas, avo…"-don't-he entreated, breaking away momentarily.  He was
silenced by an even more possessive kiss while the archer's hands
yanked his tunic from his shoulders and down his arms.

Desperate needs required desperate measures.  In the first years of
their espousal, Elrohir had led the way in their couplings more oft
than not.  But that had changed in recent years as was evident now. 
Legolas seized the role, exerting his mastery, forcing his desire upon
the Elf-rider.  He wanted to erase the anguish of his brutal words,
longed to bridge the yawning chasm that had opened between them and
seemed to widen with every passing second.  But after such a primal
confrontation, only something equally elemental would breach the walls
of Elrohir's resistance.  He bore the warrior down, marshalling all
his elven strength to subdue him.

Without breaking their kiss, he reached between their bodies and
tugged at the lacing of the twin's breeches.  Feeling the loosening of
his clothing, Elrohir managed to free his mouth from Legolas'
demanding custody.

"Nay, I cannot do this," he protested, struggling to get out from
under the archer.

Legolas pinned him down by sheer force of will.  "Do not fight me," he
pleaded roughly.  "Let me love you.  Please, Elrohir."

Elrohir stared at the prince uncertainly, reluctant to render himself
vulnerable in the wake of the latter's unbidden verbal assault.  Love
battled it out with pride for primacy.  He drew in a shaky breath as
the prince pressed kisses to his damp cheeks and nuzzled his neck.  In
the end, his love for Legolas won.  It always will, he thought
helplessly.

Resignedly, he lay back, unresisting.  With swift, able hands, Legolas
divested him of his remaining clothes then stripped himself bare as
well.   With their raiment shielding his mate from the chill ground,
the prince began an assault of another sort, bent on reclaiming the
Elvenlord, intent on making their bodies one.  He maintained a
relentless pace, withholding even a moment's respite from Elrohir lest
the twin retreat from him anew.  What he lacked in long experience, he
more than made up for in gut-feel and remorse-driven passion.

Elrohir gasped as the archer's lips and teeth left yet another crimson
mark on his flesh, joining the myriad others randomly scattered on his
throat, shoulders, chest and abdomen.  More made their appearance on
the creamy skin of his groins and thighs.  When Legolas took him into
his mouth, he groaned from the sheer acuteness of the sensation.  The
archer suckled him rapaciously, almost forcibly awakening his body. 
Pure pleasure blurred his thoughts, blunted his will.  But even as he
felt his body surge to life, he knew he could not bear to be brought
to release in this manner.   It made him feel too completely at the
prince's mercy and this he could not endure.  Not now.  Not when he
felt so fragile within.

He reached down desperately, saying beseechingly,  "Legolas, not like
this, please.  I cannot..."

Instinctively, Legolas understood his plea.  Though he regretted
foregoing the chance of bringing Elrohir to completion thus, he also
knew it would only undo what he had so far achieved.  Breathing
raggedly, he moved between Elrohir's thighs, lifted the twin's hips
and sheathed himself completely within the Elf-knight, melding their
slender, powerful forms into searing union.  For several moments, all
that existed for them was the shared symphony of their impassioned
outbursts, the harmony of their pounding hearts and the counterpoint
of their writhing loins.

Their coupling was as fierce and blistering as their fight had been. 
It needed to be for just as they eased their furies and expended their
energies on the fields of battle, so now did they need to resolve
their differences and spend their raging emotions in another arena. 

Overwhelmed by the crashing, unrestrained waves of Legolas' spiraling
rapture that swept over and through his body, Elrohir swiftly found
his release, the force of it buffeting his lean bulk, partially
winding him in its intensity.  A bare second later, Legolas came to
explosive completion as well, spending himself deep within the younger
twin.  After a few moments' reprieve, the prince slowly eased himself
from his mate.  And then, to Elrohir's astonishment, he leaned down
and licked the Elf-lord's taut belly clean of his seed.

Only then did he creep up to lie beside the darkling Elf, insistently
drawing him into the circle of his arms.  Elrohir's eyes were closed,
his mouth trembling though he strove to still it.  Legolas brushed his
own mouth gently against the quivering lips.  The caress stilled the
trembling and the Elf-knight opened his eyes to look at his golden
spouse.

"Please tell me you forgive me," Legolas whispered, his eyes
imploring.  "I will beg this of you if you demand it."

Elrohir drew in a shuddering breath.  "I would never allow you to
bring yourself so low as to beg," he said.

"Let me hear the words then," the prince murmured anxiously.  "Assure
me that I have not lost your love this day."

Elrohir regarded him somberly.  For the dreadful space of a heartbeat,
Legolas thought that what he feared had already come to pass.  But
then the twilight pools softened and the tense mouth relaxed somewhat.

"I told you I would never cease to love you," he quietly reminded the
archer.  When Legolas continued to gaze at him pleadingly, he
murmured: "Aye, I forgive you." 

Nearly swooning in heartfelt relief, Legolas held tight to his mate. 
He did not delude himself that all was right between them.  With one
fell swoop, he had crippled the trust they had built over most of the
last age.  In his oblivious spite, he had revealed to the twin a side
he himself had not even realized he possessed; the knowledge gutted
him to the core.  It would take time before Elrohir fully trusted him
once more.

/He deemed me worthy of him yet I have just proven how undeserving I
am of his noble heart./  Legolas felt tears of shame and apprehension
sting his eyes though he stubbornly hid them from the raven-haired
Elf. 

For uncounted years, Elrohir had loved him without condition, both his
perfections and his flaws, even when he had hurt him in his
thickheaded refusal to accept that love.  But Elrohir had known his
fears, understood his reluctance and patiently borne his misguided
attempts to escape the trap of his own unacknowledged love for the
Elf-knight. 

This was different.  He had deliberately struck at his binding-mate,
knowing he would draw blood, nay, counted on it.  He guiltily admitted
to himself that had not the Elf-lord been roused to such a fearsome
rage, he would have savored the effects of his well-aimed blow.  He
felt shriveled inside from the baseness of his previous intentions.   

/What if this has tainted me in his eyes?/  Legolas could not bear to
even think of the consequences.

*******
Elladan and Gimli waited in the small clearing to which they had
retreated while the pair tussled.  Elladan stood quietly to one side. 
But Gimli could not keep still and fidgeted and paced and demanded
every few minutes what in Durin's name was happening.     

At length, Elladan let out a rather weary breath.  He looked at Gimli,
his countenance grave and troubled. 

"They are done.  Let us go back," he quietly said.

"How do you-?"  Gimli stopped then grunted.  "Ah, you sense your
brother's feelings, don't you?"  At Elladan's nod, he said: "I wonder
how they settled their argument."

"With swordplay," Elladan softly replied.

Gimli stared at the Elf-lord in shock.  "What?  And we left them to
it?" he nearly sputtered.  "Confound it, Peredhel, they could have
killed each other!"

Elladan turned sage eyes on him.  "Not all swords kill, Master Gimli."

Gimli stared at him uncomprehendingly at first.  Then enlightenment
came upon him and his mouth formed an 'o'.  His ruddy cheeks flushed
with embarrassment.

"Dratted Elves," he muttered as he followed Elladan back to the camp.

******************
Glosssary:
Peredhel - Half-elf, Half-elven
Aduial - Twilight (Legolas' pet name for Elrohir)

Chapter VI: Fraying Edges
The day passed awkwardly for the quartet but weighed most heavily on
Legolas. 

He was acutely aware that he had not managed to bridge the gap that
had opened up between him and Elrohir.  The Elf-knight now kept aloof
from him, emotionally if not physically.  Not that Legolas blamed him. 
He had uttered words that had struck at the very heart of their
relationship and thus given Elrohir reason to doubt him.  His
subsequent actions had not been anything less than reprehensible. 
Now, with his mind cool and lucid once more, he reviewed what he had
done and cringed at its sordidness.

What had he been thinking when he took Elrohir after having so
demeaned him?  True, his mate had yielded but what else could he have
done in the face of Legolas' insistent overtures?  Reject him? 
Elrohir had never been one to turn him away when he was in need. 

That was what smote him hardest.  It had been his need that had been
answered, not Elrohir's.  He'd gained the warrior's forgiveness and
assurances of love.  But what had Elrohir received in turn?  The
archer sighed dolefully.  In his panic, he had not taken the time to
weigh his actions.  He had wanted to prove his love to Elrohir but he
had hardly chosen the most advisable way.  There were times when
wounds could not be mended by the joining of two bodies.  He should
have realized that before forcing his desire upon his spouse.

He would have to bide his time until Elrohir saw fit to trust him
again.  He could only pray it would not take too long for his mate's
distance hurt him grievously. 

His sense of isolation was further aggravated by Elladan's wary
demeanor around him.  Legolas knew that Elrohir would never betray the
details of their quarrel to anyone, not even his twin.  The days when
they had openly shared everything were no more now that they were both
espoused.  There were certain matters that had to remain in confidence
between binding-mates alone and the brethren observed this constraint
as assiduously as when they had confided in each other.  But the bond
between them remained strong and they oft knew the other's feelings or
thoughts because of it.  Elladan would not know the exact nature of
Legolas' transgression against his brother but he would have sensed
that there *had* been one and would therefore respond accordingly.  In
this case, that meant being as mistrustful of Legolas as Elrohir now
was.

If not for Gimli, he would have felt utterly alone.  Not for the last
time was he grateful for his Dwarf friend's company. 

They broke camp at first light the following day and were soon on the
trail of their prey once more.  But unlike before, the brethren seemed
grimmer and more taciturn.  Not even Gimli could pierce the shroud of
reticence that enfolded them for long.  This served to dishearten
Legolas further.

It would have been easy for him to believe that, despite Elrohir's
claim to the contrary, the Elf-knight had ceased to care for him. 
Even during the worst times of their tension-fraught relationship in
the past two years, he'd always left the door to reconciliation wide
open.  But now, it seemed no longer the case.  The woodland prince
struggled with a burgeoning fear that the door was slowly closing. 
Indeed, he'd have thought it shut already in the light of Elrohir's
demeanor with him.  Except...

Every once in long while, Elrohir would look at him.  And though his
eyes were now hooded as they had never been before, he could not hide
what lay deep in his heart.  It glimmered still in the innermost
reaches of those twilight pools though its brightness had been dimmed
by hurt and disillusionment.

He still loves me, Legolas told himself almost desperately.  He had to
believe that Elrohir did.

He refused to think of what would become of him should that doom come
to pass.  That after all these centuries, the love that had succored
him so tenderly even when he had not known it should now be withdrawn. 
And there would be no one to blame but himself.

In the days that followed, he took on more than his share of duties. 
He extended his hours on watch, sometimes even taking on whole nights
instead of waking anyone for a turn.  He saw to their steeds whenever
the twins headed out on foot to track their elusive quarry.  And he
insisted on seeing to their supplies, hunting on his own here and then
to add to their spartan stores.  Anything and everything to ease the
ache that troubled his heart whenever he reached out to Elrohir with
his spirit only to receive a gentle but firm rebuff.  

Their bond was still in place but it was shaky at best.  He guarded it
relentlessly, watchful for any sign of further weakening.  Matrimonial
bonds could not be broken but they could be damaged to the point of
hollowness. 

Each night, as he lay by Elrohir's side, he longed to reach over and
hold his mate in his arms.  But he could not disregard the warrior's
tacit reluctance to be held or even touched by him.  As his confidence
of Elrohir's love eroded, so did his sense of security in their
relationship flag.  It did not take long for him to begin to despair
that he had irrevocably ruined what they shared.  But his innate
tenacity refused to allow him to give up hope and so he clung to the
tenuous strands of affection he could still sense radiating from his
distant spouse. 

The fifth night descended accompanied by the coldest weather they had
yet experienced.  For several days now, the temperature had been
steadily dropping.  The chill climate had troubled the Elves little
thus far and Gimli, hardy as he was, had needed only his thickest
jacket to stave off its worst effects.  But they were all disturbed
anew by the lack of snow or even frost despite the plunging
temperature.  Here up high there should have been ice at the very
least yet this was not so.  For the first time, they began to consider
the possibility of a connection between this strange winter and their
present mission.

It seemed sorcery was at work.  Dark sorcery.

"The passes and paths remain clear as do the roads below," Elrohir
commented as they discussed the matter before taking their rest. 

They were seated around a small fire, the first they had stoked since
their ascent into the mountains.  It was for Gimli's sake for the
Dwarf, while admirably resistant, was at last feeling just the least
bit chilled.  At least, they were camped in a hollow surrounded by
boulders and gaunt leafless trees and the glow of the fire could only
be faintly discerned from without.

"Mayhap that is the intent for the lack of ice and snow," Elladan
mused.  He pulled out a few pieces of the diaphanous fabric they had
found along the way.  "Blocked passes and trails would hinder not only
the predators but their prey as well."

"Traffic on the northern roads have been higher of late than in
previous years," Legolas said in a hushed voice.

"Aye, and the attacks only began very recently," Elladan said. 
"Whoever or whatever is behind them has taken care to ensure that the
victims could be taken with ease despite winter's onset."

"Not to mention in greater than expected numbers," Gimli grumbled. 
"Even my kindred were not spared!"  He glanced at the Elves.  "But no
Elf has thus been slain yet it seems."

Legolas shook his head.  "None so far.  We may very well prove the
first," he added grimly.

He started when he felt a firm hand grasp his thigh, imparting
fortitude with a slight squeeze.  He looked at Elrohir who sat nigh to
his side, almost not daring to hope that the Elf-knight had opened up
to him for at least this moment.  His hope was rewarded by the flash
of argent eyes regarding him gravely.  But gently.

Before Elrohir could withdraw his hand, he quickly clasped it in his
and held it there, relishing the warm touch upon his leg.  The warrior
gazed at him with veiled eyes but Legolas glimpsed the still
flickering affection in the grey wells.  It vastly comforted him.

As was his wont of late, he insisted on taking the first watch.  The
others reluctantly agreed, aware he could very well stay on guard the
whole night.  But in this Elrohir voiced his disapproval.

"Wake me, Legolas," he said.  "I will not have you wearing yourself
out again."  When the archer would have demurred, he placed two
fingers against his lips.  "Wake me," he repeated.

The intimate sensation of the Elf-rider's fingers upon his lips
effectively silenced the prince.  He nodded then wordlessly left to do
his duty.

It was but a few hours later that Elrohir awoke.  Much too soon to
take his turn at sentry duty.  What had roused him? 

Unable to sleep any further he decided to relieve Legolas instead. 
Rising, he caught up his sword and headed for the archer's position. 
But he grew uneasy when he neared it and Legolas was nowhere to be
seen.  It was then that he heard the faint sounds of strife further
on.  Concerned, he hurried towards the source of tumult.

His concern was well founded. 
    
Little more than a few yards away, Legolas was engaged in a bruising
fight with three goblins.  The archer looked quite capable of
dispatching them on his own but Elrohir was of no mind to take
chances.  Hesitating only a moment to touch his sleeping brother's
mind, he plunged into the fray and downed one with so savage a blow to
its neck that the snapping of it was loud enough to hear.  By now
Legolas had gutted one of his opponents and hewed the feet out from
under the other.  With a swift downward stab of his sword he slew the
legless orc.

Before either Elf had a chance to catch his breath, a swarm of orcs
converged on them.  One launched itself at them only to scream in pain
when an arrow struck it full in its throat.  Elrohir had a moment to
grin as Elladan and Gimli showed up, the Dwarf obviously spoiling for
a fight.

As before the orcs were well protected and armed.  But again, they
were not of the same caliber as the goblins Sauron and Saruman had
employed in the Great War.  These were ambushers and pillagers, not
true soldiers of war.  Nonetheless, they were formidable in numbers
and strength if not in skill.  They were not to be taken for granted.

Elrohir espied one orc as it broke ranks and sped away.  With a scowl,
he raced after it.  They could not afford to let even one of the
creatures escape anymore than they could afford to be captured. 
Surprise was their best weapon at the moment and he was of no mind to
let this foul creation of Morgoth's carry tales to its master whoever
he may be.

One of the fleetest of the Firstborn of Middle-earth, he easily caught
up with the orc.  Though obviously no match for the Elf-lord in pure
skill, the creature fought back with sheer brutality.  In that, it was
a force to reckon with and Elrohir had to bring all his power and
strength to bear to subdue his opponent.

At last, he overcame the orc, knocking its black sword from its clawed
hand and tripping it so that it fell to its knees.  Attempting to
rise, the goblin went utterly still as it felt the cold of sharp steel
against the leathery skin of its neck.  The creature, faced with a
sword to its vulnerable throat, cravenly sued for mercy. 

Eyeing it warily, Elrohir demanded that the orc tell him who its
master was.

"Lomion," the creature rasped.  "Its name is Lomion."

"It?" Elrohir snapped.  "Do you not know if your master is man or
woman?"

"It is impossible to tell," the orc said.  "It changes.  We do not
know what it is."

Puzzled, Elrohir nevertheless continued to question his captive. 
"Where is its stronghold?  Speak!" he commanded when the orc
hesitated.

"High in the mountains near the eastern pass," the creature finally
answered.  "A black fortress with high walls and a great tower."

"Does Lomion not fear the cold-drakes in the mountains?" Elrohir said. 
"That is perilously close to where they lie if they still live."

The orc cackled.  "Worms are no more," it spat out.  "It took care of
them all right."

Elrohir narrowed his eyes in disbelief.  The cold-drakes had driven
the Dwarves from the Ered Mithrin.  What power did this Lomion possess
that would enable him to destroy them?  He wondered if the orc was
telling the truth or not.

"What of the women?"

"Women?"

"The women who have been preying on travellers along the northern
roads."

"Don't know what you're babbling about!"  It yelped as the blade
pressed in enough to draw blood.  "Lomion's pets!  They're his, aye!"

"How do they kill their victims?"

The orc could not help snortling with malicious glee.  "Suck them
dry," it crowed.  "Drains them."

Elrohir frowned.  "They feed on them?" he demanded, revulsion mingling
with incredulity.

"Not on *them*," the orc retorted contemptuously.  "On their *lives*."

Elrohir stared in utter horror at the now evilly grinning creature. 
"Their lives," he repeated.  "You mean their life's force?" he added
in spiralling shock.

"Aye, now you've got it.  Not so bright for an Elf, are you?" the orc
sneered.  "Couldn't figure it out on your own."

Elrohir scowled but refused to be provoked into a careless rage. 
Straightening, he released the creature, sheathing his sword.  He
stepped back from his foe.

"Very well, then," he snapped.  "Be gone and never return to these
parts if you value your wretched life."

He turned his back on the cowering orc.  In that instant, the creature
suddenly grabbed its fallen sword and lunged forward aiming a
murderous blow at the Elf-lord.  Elrohir spun around, his arm swinging
out in a graceful, lethal arc.  His stroke neatly sliced the orc's
throat open. 

It sank to its knees in shock and stared open-mouthed at the Elf. 
Elrohir glared back at it, his grey eyes cold and merciless.

"You did not really think that I would trust you, did you?" he calmly
said.  It was so much better when these creatures gave one a reason to
kill them. 

The orc toppled over onto its face, its dark blood forming a pool
around its head.  Elrohir slammed his sword back into its sheath and
turned to rejoin the others.

Legolas was the first to mark his return.  The Wood-elf hastened to
him, blue eyes anxious. 

"What happened?" he asked.  "We lost sight of you and-"  He broke off,
patently shaken.

Elrohir placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  "I only followed a
goblin that sought to flee.  I did not think it wise to let it get
word of our presence to its master."

"You slew it then," Elladan ascertained.

"Aye, and more."  Swiftly he recounted what the orc had revealed to
him under duress. 

Their shock was understandable as he related the nature of the women's
manner of killing their victims.  They found it as repulsive and
horrifying as he had.  But when he revealed the name of their nemesis,
Elladan suddenly turned paler than he'd ever thought possible. 

"Gwaniuar!"-older twin!  "What is it?" he demanded worriedly.

The older twin shook his head dazedly.  "You must be mistaken.  That
could not have been his name."

"The creature uttered it quite clearly.  Elladan, what is wrong?  Why
should that name discomfit you so?"

"Ai, gwanneth"-younger twin-"have you forgotten who bore it?"

Elrohir stared at him in puzzlement for several seconds before his
eyes widened in disbelief.  "Nay, 'tis not possible.  He has been dead
for more than two ages of this world!"

"Precisely!  'Tis why I questioned you."

Gimli interrupted impatiently.  "What are you talking about?  Who is
dead?"

Elladan let out a shaky breath.  "Only one Elf ever carried that name. 
Lomion was Aredhel's name for her son, Maeglin."

Legolas started.  "How do you know this?"

"We heard it from Father and he in turn learned of it from a few of
the survivors of Gondolin who came to Lindon.  They'd had occasion to
hear her call him by that name."

"But how can this Lomion and Maeglin be one and the same?" Elrohir
objected.  "He died in that fall; struck the mountainside several
times before pitching into the flames below.  There were witnesses to
this.  Glorfindel saw it happen with his very own eyes!" 

"I have no explanation for such an impossible occurrence," Elladan
admitted.  "But if Lomion is indeed Maeglin, that means he survived
that terrible fall against all odds."

They stared at each other in deep perturbation.  If their foe was
indeed Eöl's son returned, his very existence begged a host of
puzzling question.  How *had* he survived that fall?   And how he had
subsisted all these millennia they could not even begin to imagine. 
But subsisted it seemed he had, and now had emerged a perilous
adversary and a terrible threat to all.

===============================================

Chapter VII: Snare
They came to a rocky trail that made riding difficult.  Their horses
were hard-pressed to keep from stumbling as large loose pebbles
constantly gave way under their hooves.  Dismounting. they led their
steeds along the narrow track, gingerly guiding the understandably
skittish animals.  At length the path began to climb up a steep
incline and they were perforce compelled to take turns ascending it. 

Elladan went first with his mount followed by Gimli.  Elrohir was just
moving forward, coaxing his horse along, when Legolas stopped him.

The archer had been brooding all morning, feeling his mate's reticence
more sharply than ever.  Elrohir had briefly opened up to him just two
evenings ago but had since retreated behind his taciturnity anon.  It
grated on Legolas' nerves, unused as he was to being cut off from the
Elf-knight's loving regard.  It had come to a point where he could no
longer hold his tongue. 

Furthermore, a vague foreboding had been steadily growing within him. 
Like all his kindred, he possessed to some degree the gift of
foresight.  While not as blessed as those of Elrond's house, he could
and did sense when good or ill was in the offing.  Now was one of
those instances and though the twins did not seem to feel as he did,
he was convinced trouble lurked close by. 

He did not desire this distance between them when Eru only knew what
awaited them.  Come what may, he had to know whether he still stood a
chance of winning back the full measure of Elrohir's affections.

"Please, Aduial, can we talk?" he pleaded. 

Elrohir looked up the incline.  Gimli was almost at the top.

"About what?" he asked, eyes still on the Dwarf.

"About what happened," Legolas said.  "What I said and..."  He sighed
guiltily as Elrohir turned his attention to him.  "I did not mean it,
Elrohir.  Twas only because I was so..."
	
"Angry," Elrohir finished for him.  "Aye, I know."
	
Legolas peered at him trying to read the impassive argent eyes.  "You
said you forgave me," he reminded the twin.
	
"I did forgive you," Elrohir replied evenly.
	
"Yet you remain so aloof from me," Legolas said.  "And show me so
little trust besides.  How can I believe that you have pardoned me?"
	
Elrohir paused then gravely regarded the prince.  "You are right," he
conceded.  "I forgave you your anger that drove you to utter such
ill-spoken words.  But I do not trust you as I once did."
	
Legolas felt the sting of his mate's admission keenly.  He gritted his
teeth in frustration.  "Can you not forget what happened?" he queried
in desperation.
	
"Forget?" Elrohir sounded quite incredulous.  "And will you have me
forget your egregious demeanor with me these past two years as well?!"
	
Legolas was nearly rendered speechless.  "My- What do you mean?" he
demanded apprehensively.
	
Elrohir let out an exasperated breath.  By now, Gimli had reached the
top of the path and was disappearing from his sight.  "This is hardly
the time to discuss this," he snipped and made to follow the Dwarf. 
	
Legolas began to boil within.  "Then when is the time?" he challenged,
grabbing the warrior's arm.  "When we are both dead and languishing in
the Halls of Waiting?"
	
"Legolas, please, we will speak of this later," Elrohir said
dismissively.
	
He gasped when the archer suddenly pushed him rather brusquely against
the bare rock of the cliff side.  "Now, Elrohir," Legolas growled. 
"Before we face whatever evil lies beyond, I want to know where I
stand with you!"
	
The Elvenlord's eyes blazed of a sudden, his patience giving out. 
"You want!" he retorted.  "I should not be surprised for that is all
you ever cared about.  And seldom considered my needs while you were
at it."
	
Legolas stared at him, aghast.  "What-?"
	
Elrohir was seething.  "'Tis always what you want, what you need, what
you desire!" he spat.  "When have you thought to ask what *I* might
want?"
	
The archer was shocked.  He had never seen Elrohir thusly in all their
years together.  The warrior did not bother to mince his words.
	
"You accepted my attentions only when it suited you, spurned my
attempts to protect you, balked when I so much as asked what you were
about!" he hissed.  "Yet you scarcely gave me solace in return.  A
loving word or a soothing touch at the end of the day was all I craved
but even those you more oft than not denied me.  Only in bed did you
deign to show me some affection and even then 'twould only be until
you had spent yourself!"
	
Struck dumb, Legolas did not think anything could be more hurtful than
Elrohir's tirade.  Until the twin's next words proved him woefully
wrong.  

"You are a wonderful seron, Legolas,"-lover-the Elf-knight ground out. 
"But as a bereth"-spouse-"you leave much to be desired."
	
With that, he abruptly thrust Legolas away, grabbed hold of his mount
and went up the mountain path after Elladan and Gimli.
	
Legolas stared after him in, breathing heavily and painfully.  Then
gritting his teeth, he hurried after him.

The path led onto a wide level stretch, barren for the most part but
for a few straggling bushes, mostly bereft of greenery.  But a thick
wood loomed beyond, the surprisingly hardy trees still clinging to
much of their foliage.  As he caught sight of his companions, Legolas
swallowed his impulse to assail Elrohir once more.  He could hardly
reopen their argument in front of Elladan and Gimli.

Just as he approached them, they heard a moaning cry.  Startled, they
all turned to see a woman fall to her knees as she emerged from the
forest.  She was clothed in naught but a badly rent gown, her hair
loose upon her shoulders and back, and she looked pale and tired and
lost.

Gimli gave a soft shout and began to walk to her, his instinct to give
assistance overriding caution.  But Elladan held him back. 

"Wait, meldiren"-my friend-he cautioned.  "Let us first learn what she
is doing here.  This is no place for a woman and even less for a lone
one."

He neared her but still kept some distance between them.  The woman
looked up at him beseechingly.

"Help me," she pleaded.  "Get me away from here, I beg of you."

Elladan frowned uneasily.  "What do you flee from, my lady?" he
queried.

"From the feeders."

"Feeders?"

"They who feast on the life force of beings."

The statement was enough to send shivers up their spines.  Legolas
came to Elladan's side.

"How did you come to be here?" he softly inquired.  "Were you taken
here?"

She did not answer but rose to her feet and sought to approach him and
Elladan.  When they backed away, she said: "Why do you fear me?  I ask
for aid and you retreat before me."

She looked at each of them entreatingly.  It was when she laid eyes on
Elrohir that the younger twin gasped and recoiled from her stare.

"'Tis her!" he exclaimed.  "The one I glimpsed in the dead man's
thoughts!  Beware, she brought him to his death!"

In that instant of recognition, the woman underwent a startling
transformation.  She cast off the rags of her raiment, revealing a
gauzy grey gown that clung to a lissome white body.  It became all too
apparent just how she had lured her victim into her arms and to his
death.  But while the three Elves and Gimli acknowledged her allure,
they had no liking for it, knowing as they did that she was one of the
creatures they had been tracking. 

She had apparently comprehended their immunity to her charms from the
start for she made no attempt at seduction of any kind.  As they
cautiously watched her, her countenance altered, her skin paling to
bone-white and her eyes losing all color or detail until nothing but
black wells stared out at them.  She emitted a piercing feral shriek.

Of a sudden, others like her appeared from the cover of the wood,
swiftly moving to encircle the four.  A score in all, they were also
clad in grey, almost transparent gowns that had been obviously created
for the purpose of temptation rather than to lend warmth.  Indeed, the
women did not seem to feel the hostile wind that whipped through the
clearing. 	

Their wicked intent notwithstanding, the very nature of their origins
left the four in a quandary.  They had no doubts now that these must
have been among the women abducted from years ago, transformed by the
blackest of arts into creatures of death.  Did they deserve death
themselves when they had not sought to become what they now were?

Their dilemma was readily resolved when one of the creatures pounced
on Gimli without warning.  Instinctively, the Dwarf swun