Title: My Heart's Desire: Part 2 – If You Go Away. 
Author: Ryo 
Author's Email: izumrud4u@yahoo.com 
Pairings: Haldir/Gidor, Glorfindel/Legolas 
Rating: NC-17 
Summary: Sometimes to find love is easier than to keep it safe. Sequel to "To Wait For 
You".
   

Chapter 15. Within the Reach of My Hand.


Haldir spent the day in a state of longing and indecision. He did not know what to do. He
felt the constant pull of Gildor's presence and had to make a conscious effort to keep
away from the part of the palace where he knew Gildor was staying. He wanted to see him
again, though he was aware that it would be a painful pleasure. He certainly did not wish
to receive another look of the kind Gildor had given him in the yard that morning.
Perhaps he should stay in his room and not attend the ceremony at all, Haldir mused.

When he returned to the chamber he shared with his brother, he still was arguing with
himself what to do. He found Rúmil preparing cheerfully for the ball.

"Where have you been?" Rúmil greeted his sullen sibling with a question. "You should
hurry: you do not have much time to get ready."

But Haldir shook his head and plopped down on his bed. "I am not sure I want to go."

"And why is that?"

"What for?" Haldir replied with a question of his own.

"Well, let me think. You can get drunk on Naurdirith, for instance. Or you can mix with
the locals and pick up a bedmate. You have been practicing abstinence since we left
Lórien. In your case that is certainly an unhealthy sign."

Haldir scowled. Rúmil sighed and put his joking tone aside.

"You have never been a coward, little brother," he said. "I do not see why you should
start now. You cannot avoid him forever. Arda is not that large, you know. Sooner or
later you will have to meet him face to face."

Haldir gave his brother a smirk that lacked mirth. "I already have. He looked at me as if
I were a complete stranger and kissed Thranduil right in front of me."

Rúmil shook his head in disbelief. "You *did* expect him to remain faithful to you… This
is ridiculous, Haldir. When you decided to leave him, you made your bed. Now you have to
lie in it. Alone or with someone else, but not him. He has moved on. So should you. Come
on, get up," he urged his brother. "Put on some pretty clothes and some of that notorious
arrogance of yours. You will not shame yourself by hiding in your room. We shall attend
the ball and enjoy ourselves in spite of everything."

Haldir was not at all sure he would be able to enjoy anything but he accepted the garment
Rúmil took out of the wardrobe and gave him.

"What is this?" he asked, looking in surprise at the dark blue tunic with the silver
pattern of mallorn leaves. "I do not remember packing it in my bag."

"Well, I did it for you," Rúmil replied unabashed. "I always liked the way you looked in
it."

Haldir rubbed the soft silk between his fingers. Gildor used to like it too…

When Haldir entered the grand hall, he threw a quick glance around and instantly spotted
the Imladris delegation. But there was only one golden-haired elf among them –
Glorfindel. Gildor was nowhere to be seen. Haldir found a place in the shadow behind one
of the columns and waited. Time passed but still there was no sign of Gildor. Haldir
realized that there could be only two reasons for that: either Gildor had chosen not to
show up at all – and that was highly improbable – or he would come with the royal family
and in that case… Haldir did not have time to finish his thought for at this moment the
tall doors of the hall opened and a herald announced: "King Thranduil. Prince Aranaur.
Prince Legolas. Lord Gildor of Imladris."

The four of them entered, all gloriously golden-haired and clad in Mirkwood green. The
princes flanked their father and Gildor kept slightly behind, so Haldir could not see him
properly at first. But as they moved forward he got a better look and gaped, his breath
hitching in his throat. Even in his traveling clothes, weary and dirty from the road
Gildor had looked beautiful. Now he was simply stunning. The one who had designed
Gildor's outfit was surely well acquainted with his finer points for they were shown off
most favourably. Haldir's avid gaze slid over the golden expanse of Gildor's chest,
generously revealed by the deep V-cut of his robe. Oh, he knew those sculptured plains so
well! He had mapped every inch of them with his fingers and lips so many times… He
remembered the satiny feel of that skin, its intoxicating taste…

Haldir followed Gildor with his eyes as the Vanya walked past him, the green silk of his
robe surging around his legs and teasingly outlining the luring contours, now of his hip
and then of his thigh. Gildor's golden hair was loose, as he always liked it, and was
held back by a mithril circlet. He looked somewhat pale and vaguely displeased but calm
and utterly indifferent to the effect he was producing. No one Haldir knew would be able
to look so regal and so nonchalant in such a provocative outfit. There simply was no
other like him…

‘How on Arda could I leave him?' Haldir asked himself dazedly.

But then Gildor smiled at Thranduil, the spell was broken and Haldir remembered: he had
left to spare himself the heartbreak of being abandoned for someone else, of witnessing
his rival take place in Gildor's bed, in his heart and in his life. He had left to save
what little of his pride he could by being the one who *forsook* and not the one who
*was* forsaken. But now his fate seemed to have decided to get even with him. Haldir
almost laughed at the irony of it: he found himself exactly in the situation he had paid
such a high price to avoid. The slanted sleeves of Gildor's robe revealed the wide
bracelets on his wrists, both of Mirkwood style. Haldir wondered sadly what happened to
his gift to Gildor. "I'll wear it for as long as I live." The Galadhel would be the first
to admit that Gildor had had every right to break that promise but it still pained him to
see the token of his love gone. Well, there was little he could do now but drink his cup
of poison to the dregs.

He watched Gildor throughout the ceremony, jealously noticing every faint flicker of
emotion on the Vanya's face, every short glance he threw about. But Gildor did not look
around much; he seemed to have eyes only for Legolas and Thranduil, occasionally glancing
Glorfindel's way. During the feast that followed he ate little but drank surprisingly
much. Though he was placed between Thranduil and Elladan, he spoke mostly to the king,
leaving the twins to chatter amicably with the elder Mirkwood prince who was sitting
between them. Judging by the shadow of a smile that graced the Vanya's lips now and then,
he was enjoying his table talk. Once Haldir thought Thranduil must have subtly done
something, for Gildor's eyes widened and he almost choked on his wine. Thranduil laughed
and said something that earned him a look from Gildor, which sent a painful jolt straight
to Haldir's heart. And then Haldir could swear he saw Gildor saying ‘I love you'! The
green dragon of his jealousy raised its head, breathing fire. The Galadhel realized
dejectedly that it was going to prove even a greater ordeal for him than he had foreseen…


As soon as Gildor took the first step into the grand hall, he knew Haldir was there. The
impact Haldir's close presence produced on him was so overwhelming that his head reeled
for a moment. He instantly shielded his mind, preferring to hear and to see only with his
ears and eyes. He was aware that wearing the kind of outfit he had on, he could not give
away even the slightest hint of the unease he was feeling for it would make him look
ridiculous. Only imperturbable self-assurance and nonchalant arrogance went well with his
garment. So he squared his shoulders and donned the familiar mask of cold indifference.
He did not look around, afraid that he would meet Haldir's gaze unwittingly. He could not
trust himself to preserve the pretence of composure, should he find himself face to face
with Haldir again. The wild storm of emotions Gildor believed to have spent itself long
ago was once again raging in his heart.

He watched the ceremony as if in a haze, very little of what he was witnessing
registering with him. He knew it was a special day for Legolas and the guilt he felt
about his inability to focus added to his nervousness. During the banquet he mostly
pushed the food around his plate and what little he managed to force down his throat sat
uneasily in his stomach. Even without *feeling* Haldir's presence he could not forget for
a moment that Haldir was somewhere near. One part of him wished to find Haldir with his
eyes, to take a better look at him, to see if he had changed… But the other part demanded
of him to remember his pride and not to let the Galadhel get even the slightest suspicion
of how miserably he had pined for him all those years. His inner struggle blew up the
fire of his emotional turmoil and Gildor tried to quench it, drinking wine by goblets.

Thranduil talked to him, attempting to distract him by joking and teasing. Gildor was
grateful to him for the effort though it did not help much: he heard only half of what
Thranduil was saying and understood even less. Gildor almost jumped out of his skin when
he suddenly felt a confident hand slide over the bare flesh of his thigh. Thranduil
laughed.

"Ah, finally I have your full attention." His fingers gave another caress to Gildor's
skin before withdrawing. "An extremely convenient detail, those side-slits," he murmured,
his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Gildor scowled and looked away.

"Meleth."

*That* made the Vanya instantly turn back to Thranduil. Never had Thranduil used that
endearment with him. The king's face was serious now.

Gildor, you are the most precious person to me after my family. It grieves me to
so lost and confused. I will do anything to see you happy. Please, know that."

Thranduil's vow caught Gildor completely by surprise and the sincerity and earnestness of
it made him tongue-tied for a moment. He could only look at his friend with eyes full of
gratitude and affection.

"Thank you," he managed to bring out at last. "You know, I always wished I could love
*you*."

Thranduil smiled. "Though I cannot deny that I am flattered, I am not sure you would be
happier, should it ever happen."

And then the feast was over and it was time for the ball. The first dance was Legolas's
and no one had any doubt as to whom he would perform it with. Thranduil watched
Glorfindel swirl his young son around the dancing floor to a slow tune and his paternal
pride was mixed with paternal concern in his heart.

"Do not worry," Gildor murmured by his side. "If Legolas loves him, Glorfindel cannot be
entirely hopeless, can he?"

"I expect not." Thranduil smiled a little self-consciously. "I simply… "

"…love your son so very much."

Thranduil smiled again and nodded. "Well, shall we?" he offered then as other pairs
started joining Glorfindel and Legolas on the dancing floor.

"Oh." Gildor looked at his friend uneasily. "Must we?"

"No, if you do not want to."

"I'd rather not," Gildor admitted.

"Perhaps some more wine then?"

"Yes!" Gildor agreed gratefully and Thranduil raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"If you keep up the pace, you would be dead drunk by the end of the evening."

"I never get drunk."

"Have you ever tried as hard as tonight?"

Bantering, they headed for the table with drinks.


Aranaur also watched his younger brother, and so did the twins.

"Ah," Elrohir sighed. "Our Balrog slayer is as good as married."

"As *bad* as married," Elladan muttered. "We have only two blonds in Imladris and both of
them are off the market now."

"And we, on the contrary, have them in abundance," Aranaur laughed.

Elrohir suddenly grew alert. "Oh! That reminds me! Have you seen Lindir, El?"

"Yes," Elladan looked around. "I think I have seen him somewhere here a couple of moments
ago."

"Lindir?" Aranaur looked at the twins inquiringly. "Who is that?"

"Our minstrel," Elladan answered absentmindedly. "Ah, there he is." He pointed to a
nearby window seat.

"Silly creature," Elrohir gave a mock sigh of frustration. "I thought he would be
exploring the attractions of this fair kingdom. And what is he doing? Keeping close to
*us*!"

Aranaur looked in surprise at the young elf he had often come across in the halls and
passages of the palace during the past few days. "So he is your minstrel?"

"Yes," Elladan confirmed. "Didn't you know?"

"No," Aranaur shook his head. "I have seen him among the elves of your delegation but I
have not heard him perform. Is he good?"

The twins exchanged a mischievous glance.

"Very!" Elrohir said with feeling. "He is very talented and very skilled."

"He is? What instruments does he play?"

"Actually, he can play anything he can put his hands on," Elladan said with the most
honest expression on his face.

"Yes, he can elicit music from any… instrument," Elrohir seconded his brother.

"One is left breathless after Lindir's performance," Elladan continued.

"Literally." Elrohir nodded earnestly.

Aranaur raised an eyebrow, sensing some innuendo in their words, and looked from one twin
to the other. "I am impressed. I think now I simply *must* ask him to perform for me."

"Yes, do," Elladan agreed enthusiastically. "You will see that we have not said a word of
lie."

"Only… be gentle with him," Elrohir asked in a concerned voice. "He is so shy and
bashful, the little thing."

Lindir watched the three princes from under his long lashes, biting his lip. He knew,
just knew they were talking about him! And only the Valar could say what fables the
insufferable twins could be telling the Mirkwood Crown Prince. When he saw Aranaur turn
and walk in his direction, he dropped all pretence of casual indifference. His eyes
instinctively grew wider as Thranduil's elder son approached him unhurriedly.

Aranaur stopped in front of the young Noldo and looked down into the two blue pools of
anxiety. ‘Bashful indeed,' he smiled to himself.

"You are Lindir, aren't you?" he asked in a friendly tone.

"Yes," the Noldo answered cautiously.

"And you are a minstrel?"

"Yes."

"I am surprised I have not heard you singing yet," Aranaur smiled.

Lindir gave a faint sigh, his pink lips parting ever so slightly. "You have not had time
for that, Highness. You have been too busy," he said softly.

Aranaur furrowed his brow. Why did he have this feeling that he had made some blunder and
now an apology from him was due? He tried to shake off the inexplicable sense of guilt
and nodded at the platform where Mirkwood musicians were playing.

"Would you not perform now?"

"Oh no, my Lord," Lindir gave him a little smile. "Today is a Mirkwood holiday so it is
only fair that everyone should dance to *her* tunes."

Aranaur watched Lindir's slender fingers twirl a bead, plaited into one of his dark
braids. He felt intrigued by the pretty youthful creature in front of him.

"But I *do* want to hear you sing," he insisted, smiling. "Tell me what I should do to
persuade you to perform for me?"

"Bed me," Lindir blurted out and instantly wished to swallow his long tongue.

"What?" Aranaur was taken aback. He looked at Lindir in merry amazement. "Was it you who
said that just now?" He started to guess what the twins could have implied.

The deep blush on the young elf's cheeks made the blue of his eyes even brighter.

"Do not mock me, my Lord," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Take my offer
or reject it, but do not mock me."

Aranaur stroked Lindir's face with the tips of his fingers; his skin felt soft and hot
under his touch.

"I wonder if this was how Glorfindel saw my brother for the first time: a lot of
surprises under the surface of innocence and youth," he murmured thoughtfully.

"My Lord?" Lindir said in a tiny voice, looking up at the prince uncertainly.

"Stop calling me ‘my Lord' if you want to come to my rooms tonight."

A bright smile bloomed on Lindir's face. "Oh, whatever you say… Highness."

Aranaur shook his head. "A brat. Just like my brother." He pulled Lindir up by the hand.
"Come dance with me."


Haldir followed his erstwhile lover subtly around the hall. He had almost forgotten how
inexorable Gildor's pull on him was. He tailed the Vanya as if he were bound to him.
Well, perhaps bound was not the best word to use in this case… Haldir wished his
resistance to Gildor's spell would be strong enough for him if not to leave the ball,
then at least to stay in one place. But instead, he was shadowing Gildor around the
chamber, Gildor's pale beauty a joy and a torment for his eyes. It was almost like it had
been back in Lórien, Haldir mused silently; back in Lórien, when his madness was not
raving yet and when he still believed Gildor to be Glorfindel's lover… Now it was very
much the same: he was once again stalking the cold Vanyarin beauty, who did not as much
as notice his presence. And once again there was a golden-haired elf by Gildor's side,
who was well aware of what Haldir was about. Only this time it was not Glorfindel but
Thranduil.

Several times during the evening Haldir found Thranduil looking at him. But it was not
the sort of look Haldir would expect from a victorious rival. It seemed the king was
waiting for something. But Haldir had no idea what Thranduil could possibly want of him.
He would avert his gaze uneasily only to find himself some time later pinned once again
by the intense green gaze of the Mirkwood ruler. Each time their eyes met Thranduil
seemed to grow more and more inpatient, even angry; then surprised and finally
disappointed. Haldir was entirely at a loss as to what it all could mean.

As evening ripened into night, the ceremonial ball evolved into a merry party. The pieces
the Mirkwood musicians were playing now were no longer elaborate compositions but lively
rhythmic tunes and slow sultry ballads. The dancing was in full swing. All the windows
and terrace doors were open to let in cool night air and a light breeze from the gardens
brought the sweet scent of roses and phloxes.

"Your brother is one of the best partners I have ever danced with," Aranaur told Elladan
as Elrohir and he joined the elder twin by the table with drinks.

"Yes, Ro is a very good dancer," Elladan said proudly. He raised Elrohir's dark tresses
from his neck and blew on the damp skin to cool it a little. Elrohir purred in pleasure
and lowered his head, inviting his brother to continue. But at the first notes of a new
tune he instantly straightened up.

"Oh! Telien-e-mael?" He turned to the Mirkwood prince. "I had no idea the Sindar could
dance it too."

Aranaur grinned. "Well, *some* of us can." He looked around, searching with his eyes for
his father.

Gildor also recognized the music at once but before he could say anything Thranduil was
already pulling him forward. "Come on, let us dance!"

"Thranduil!" Gildor almost dug his heels in the floor. "You cannot be serious!"

"Why is that? We have done it before and I do not remember you ever objecting."

"We have never done it in front of half your kingdom."

Thranduil laughed. "Are you concerned about your reputation or mine? Oh, come on, when
did you become such a prude?"

Thranduil wrapped his arm around Gildor's waist, his hand resting confidently on his hip.

"You have just spoken to me of love and now you are grudging me one little dance. What am
I to think?"

Thranduil gave Gildor a teasing smile, his hand sliding a little lower over the slippery
silk of Gildor's robe. They were almost in the middle of the dancing floor now, the crowd
splitting before them, making way and drawing aside.

"You are insufferable," Gildor muttered. "But then it is no news."

He swirled from under Thranduil's arm and took a step back. Thranduil followed at once,
easily settling into the sensual rhythm of the dance. They were facing each other now,
gazing deep into each other's eyes. The expression of reluctance and annoyance had
slipped off Gildor's face and a little meaningful smile was curving up his lips. Suddenly
he turned away in a quick spiraling sort of movement, stepping forward on his right.
Thranduil came after him but before he could touch Gildor, the Vanya turned sharply with
a hip-twist to face him again and took another step back, flirting, toying with him,
enticing. They moved in a smooth, slinky glide, their bodies flowing with the music;
weaving the spell of Telien-e-mael and being just as much caught into its ancient magic
as all the on-lookers.

The sensual tune inflamed, aroused and tormented. Haldir felt its sultry beat in his
veins as he watched Thranduil pursue Gildor, who was as fiery, luring and evasive as a
flickering tongue of flame. The pair still did not touch though they never broke their
eye contact and the air between them seemed to thrum with passion. Haldir felt a surge of
need rough and wild sweep through him, leaving him hard and wanting. He wished for the
foreplay taking place in front of him both to stop instantly and to go on forever. He
dared not guess what would follow once Thranduil had enough of Gildor's teasing.

As if he had heard Haldir's thoughts, Thranduil suddenly caught Gildor's hand and jerked
him to himself, cutting short the prelude and getting to the main part. Gildor tossed his
head defiantly and pushed himself away from Thranduil. But he got only as far as the
length of their outstretched arms for Thranduil was still holding him fast by the hand.
Thranduil gave Gildor another sharp pull, making him spin back to him. Haldir thought he
saw a flash of bare skin above the edge of Gildor's high boot. Gildor had no more chance
to escape – Thranduil was pressing him tight to himself, their hips swaying and gyrating
in a most erotic way. The music became even more passionate and spicy.

All the spectators were ensnared by the sensual magic of Telien-e-mael, their heartbeat
matching the primitive rhythm of the dance. Involuntarily they started clapping their
hands in time with the tune and it intensified the power of the spell even more, making
their blood race through the veins, singing with wicked heat. The tension grew almost
unbearably high. Lust was a living, breathing thing in the hall now.
Thranduil caught Gildor's wrists and brought his hands to press against his chest.
Gildor's fingers curled into the lapels of Thranduil's robe as his left foot crawled up
Thranduil's leg. The king grasped the back of Gildor's knee, lifting his leg to hook it
around his own hip. His other arm snaked swiftly round Gildor's waist as he leaned
forward, making the Vanya bend his back in a perfect arch, the tips of his golden hair
sweeping the floor. The music swelled triumphantly and then died away, spent.

For several moments the audience kept on clapping in unison but then it erupted into a
storm of applause, cheering and whooping.

Thranduil pulled Gildor up and smiled into his startled face. "See? You have not died.
You are still alive. Every bit of you is, actually."

They were standing very close and Thranduil could feel the hard proof of the effect
Telien-e-mael had had on Gildor. The Vanya did not answer, staring at Thranduil with wide
dilated eyes, shocked by his body's unexpected reaction and slightly giddy with the long
forgotten sensations.

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. "A drink perhaps?" he offered then.

"Oh yes," Gildor breathed and Thranduil led him away from the dancing floor.

He left the Vanya by a column near the table with refreshments. "Stay here, I shall fetch
you your wine."

Gildor nodded, leaned back against the pillar and closed his eyes. The evening had been
too straining. He felt exhausted. His treacherous body was still thrumming with the dregs
of arousal. He *was* alive after all… But he did not *want* to be alive. Gildor sighed,
opened his eyes and… met Haldir's gaze. The world around him grew suddenly still, the
noise of the crowded hall fading away. Time stopped. All Gildor could hear was the
frantic pounding of his heart. All he could see was Haldir's face, beautiful, tense,
pale; the Galadhel's jaw set, his eyes dark with desire, jealousy, anger, hurt… Oh,
Gildor knew the mixture all too well! Love was not there... But then, why should it be?

Haldir cursed himself for his inability to turn and walk away from the cause of his
longing and torment. But Gildor's magnetic pull was too strong for him to resist. And
after the dance it became absolutely impossible. The remnants of Haldir's will power had
been burnt in the fire, ignited by Gildor and Thranduil's incredible performance. He was
shocked by the intensity of his jealousy. He had no right to feel that way but the dark
and acutely painful emotion refused to comply with his logical reasoning.

Haldir tailed Gildor and Thranduil furtively as they moved off the dancing floor. Then
Thranduil went to the table with drinks and Gildor remained by a pillar, leaning against
the carved marble, his eyes closed, his face serene and slightly bored. Haldir was very
close to him now but Gildor did not seem to be aware of it. The Vanya had never failed to
feel his presence before but now he did not care enough to do it. Or perhaps he simply
ignored him, Haldir decided bitterly. It felt vaguely as if a wound had opened somewhere
on his body and all the blood was draining out of him, leaving him cold and empty and
hollow. At this moment Gildor opened his eyes. Shock and something else flitted so
quickly through the liquid green that Haldir was not quite sure what he had seen before
it had been hidden. The next instant Gildor's face was void of any emotion and he was
looking at Haldir like at a complete stranger.

It seemed to Gildor their silent duel was going on forever. He could not turn away – his
eyes were trapped by Haldir's blazing look. The world started to reel slightly around
Gildor and he was grateful for the solid bulk of the column behind his back. Suddenly
Thranduil stepped into his line of vision and mercifully broke his eye contact with the
Galadhel.

"I hope you are not going to faint?" the king asked his friend, offering him a goblet of
wine.

Gildor shook his head mutely and drained the liquor in one gulp.

"I think you can use some fresh air," Thranduil told him. "Let us take a stroll in the
gardens."

"But we cannot leave yet," Gildor argued weakly. "Legolas... "

Thranduil chuckled. "My son has used the distraction we provided and is now well on his
way to exploring the pleasures of adult life. So come on, let us go out."

He pulled Gildor away from his column and they exited through one of the terrace doors.
Haldir watched them leave, fighting the urge to go after them, telling himself it was too
late for an attempt to change anything, and... followed them nevertheles.


Chapter 16. Revelations.



Thranduil chose one of the alleys that led away from the palace and Gildor followed him,
not paying much attention where they were going. Any route was fine with him as long as
it allowed him to put some distance between himself and Haldir. They walked along the
path that was taking them deeper and deeper into the darkness of the park, and the din of
the revelry was gradually fading away. Neither of them spoke. Thranduil kept watching his
friend furtively. He felt Gildor's tension: the Vanya was strained like an overly bent
bow. Add just a little more pressure - and it would snap.


Thranduil was at a loss as to what to do: obviously Gildor was nearing his breaking point
and Thranduil did not know how to help him. Glorfindel's report of the events prior to
Gildor and Haldir's split-up had led Thranduil to assume that the reason for it all was
major misunderstanding and miscommunication. The Mirkwood ruler had believed Haldir's
feelings for Gildor to remain just as strong as Gildor's for him. Thranduil earnestly had
thought that all it would take to remedy the situation was a good push in the right
direction. But Haldir's inaction baffled and worried the king. He started to fear it
truly could have been no more than an infatuation for the young Galadhel; something
Haldir had mostly got over by now. Thranduil was not going to judge Haldir; neither was
he going to analyze his behaviour in order to perceive his motives. All he was interested
in and concerned about at the moment was Gildor's feelings and the pain his friend had to
deal with.


Gildor heard the soft murmuring of water and turned in that direction, following the
sound. It led him to a secluded glade with a tiny fountain that chirruped cheerfully and
tumbled down into a small basin of pale rosy marble, shaped as an open water lily. Gildor
walked up to the fountain, scooped a handful of cool water and splashed it in his face.
Thranduil came up to his friend and turned him around by the shoulders.


"Gildor... " Thranduil wiped the water from the Vanya's cheeks and curled his hand around
Gildor's neck, pulling him forward to press their foreheads together.


But Gildor suddenly tilted his head up and caught Thranduil's mouth in a desperate kiss.
Thranduil froze for a moment, taken by surprise. However, he was quick to realize that
Gildor's kiss was nothing else but a plea for understanding and support and Thranduil
could not possibly refuse him *that*. He wrapped his arms around Gildor's form, feeling
his nervous shivering, pressing him closer reassuringly, and opened to him, allowing
Gildor to drink his fill from his lips.


After a while Gildor pulled away, panting, and looked up into Thranduil's eyes.


"Take me," he said in a hoarse whisper.


"What?" Thranduil could not believe his ears: he was least of all prepared to hear *that*
sort of request.


Gildor took a couple of steps back, unfastening his belt, and shrugged off his robe. The
slippery fabric streamed down in a shimmering waterfall and pooled on the grass around
his feet.


"Take me. Now." Gildor's eyes were feverishly bright. "Is it not what you have always
wanted?"


Thranduil's gaze wandered without his bidding over Gildor's perfectly shaped form. He
took a careful breath and exhaled slowly, his own body reacting acutely to the splendour
of Gildor's nudity and to the temptation of his offer. Still when he spoke, he managed to
do it in an even tone.


"Are you sure this is what *you* want?"


"Yes... "


Gildor once again stood close to him, his deft fingers swiftly undoing the clasps on
Thranduil's robe, shifting the material aside, sliding under the silk of Thranduil's
shirt. The king was unable to suppress a gasp at the familiar tingle spreading over his
bare skin from the touch of Gildor's hands.


"You want me to purge your old memories for you and to give you new ones, don't you?"
Thranduil asked huskily.


Gildor's wide dilated eyes met Thranduil's questioning look for a moment.


"You know me so well," he murmured then, his lips barely an inch away from Thranduil's.
"Yes, this is what I want... "




‘This is what comes of spying on people,' Haldir told himself as he had to witness Gildor
kissing Thranduil the second time during one day. ‘One often sees something that one
would rather not see.'


He watched the kissing pair from the deep shadow of an old tree on the edge of the glade.
He felt pained but impassioned at the same time.


‘What are you waiting for?' he mocked himself. ‘Go away, move! Don't stand like a
monument to your lost happiness. Go, Haldir, leave!'


But his feet refused to obey him. At this moment Gildor stepped back, shucked off his
robe and stood in front of Thranduil, dressed only in his high boots, mithril adornments
and moonlight. The emerald drop on his choker was trembling ever so slightly over the
hollow of his throat. The sight he presented was almost barbaric in its beauty and
sensuality.


Haldir felt his lungs burn and realized that he had stopped breathing. He took a hungry
gulp of air, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat. But the next instant he received yet
another shock.


"Take me." Gildor's voice rang in the quiet of the glade. "Now."


Haldir gasped aloud. Take me? Take??? No one but *him* had ever taken Gildor! A red haze
started to gather around the edges of Haldir's vision. This could not be happening, could
it? But he knew Thranduil would not be able to resist. No one would, being in one's right
mind... Gildor was already opening Thranduil's clothes, impatiently pushing the fabric
aside. As his hands disappeared under the silk of the king's shirt, Haldir saw
Thranduil's chest start heaving faster. He could not take it, just could not! Haldir's
vision went completely red and he rushed forward - but two strong hands grabbed him by
the arms and held him back. Haldir fought blindly.


"Let go! He cannot do this!"


"Who do you think you are, to decide what he can or cannot do? Eru almighty?"


The sound of the familiar hateful voice penetrated Haldir's hazed brain; he blinked and
found himself facing the twins.


"Oh, is that *your* exclusive prerogative then?" Haldir hissed, jerking his arms free.
"Do you *ever* leave him alone?"


"*Someone* had to take care of him after your disappearance thing," Elladan remarked
sarcastically.


"Your ‘care' will kill him one day!" Haldir spat.


"It is *you* who will kill him," Elladan growled. "You have done it once and you are
still doing it."


"What?!" Haldir stared at him in confusion and fury.


Elrohir gave his brother a warning look: they were becoming too loud. Elladan nodded.
They once again grabbed Haldir by the elbows and dragged him away. Haldir fought to free
himself but the twins' grasp was implacable. They pulled him deeper into the park, away
from the fountain glade, and then shoved him against the thick trunk of one of the trees.
Haldir turned to face them, infuriated.


"Just try to touch me again and... "


"And you'll do what? Challenge us?" Elladan inquired sarcastically. "Oh please, do us a
favour. I have been waiting for a chance to spill your blood."


Haldir was slightly taken aback by the elder twin's ferocity. "Why do you hate me so?"


"Have you not heard what I told you? You killed Gildor. You killed him!"


Haldir stared back at him, confused and shocked by the horrible accusation. "What are you
talking about?"


"When you left Imladris, Gildor went after you," Elrohir started explaining, his voice
deceptively calm. But it was chill calmness. "He found you. But you were so obviously…
busy at that time that he decided not to bother you."


Haldir winced. "It was not what he thought."


His excuse sounded so lame that neither of the twins bothered to answer to that.


"Gildor never came back," Elrohir continued dispassionately. "We found him only the next
day, unconscious and hardly breathing. By the time we reached Imladris, he was dead."


Haldir stared at him, wide-eyed, all colour gone from his face.


"Adar managed to bring him back but Gildor has never been the same ever since."


Haldir was shaken to the core. "But why did he die? Was he attacked? Did he take a
wound?"


"Oh no, Marchwarden," Elladan replied, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotions. "Gildor
was not attacked."


"Then why, for the Valar's sake?"


"The wound he got was not a bodily one. He died of a broken heart and that was *your*
doing."


Haldir gave him a bitter smile. "You are exaggerating my powers, prince Elladan. I never
meant that much to Gildor. He never really loved me."


The twins looked at him in mute bewilderment.


"What makes you think so?" Elrohir asked finally.


Haldir shrugged. "He never told me he loved me. Not even once."


"Manw? and all the Valar!" Elladan burst out. "Did you have to be *told* that? Didn't you
have eyes to see the obvious??"


"When you first arrived in Imladris, you were wearing the braids that Gildor had made for
you, weren't you?" Elrohir asked.


"Yes. So what?"


"Those braids were as good as a silver ring on your finger!" Elladan growled. "He wanted
to bind himself to you, you idiot!"


Haldir's head swam with yet another shock.


"How was I to know?" he shouted back, his nerves frayed. "I am not a Vanya to know all
their traditions!"


"Neither are we," Elrohir replied coldly. "But we know, because we asked. Did *you* ever
take the trouble?"


Haldir stared back at them, momentarily silenced.


"Did you ever take the trouble to ask what *he* wanted and what *he* felt?" Elladan asked
accusingly.


"He did not need *me* to ask him all that. He had *you* to take care of such things,"
Haldir replied bitterly. "Each time I looked away, you instantly stepped in between us."


"You looked away too often for your own good then. Otherwise you would have seen what
there was there to see. He complied with your every whim. He broke and remoulded himself
to be what you wanted him to be. He gave himself to you completely to use as you pleased.
Do you think it did not take any toll on him? He came to us because with us he could be
himself once again. In fact, he did not come to us to be *with us*. He came to us to be
*away from you*."


"Oh yes?" Haldir sneered. "Was it for the same reason then that he chose to sleep with
you?"


Once again the twins were bewildered beyond speech. Finally Elladan shook his head as if
trying to clear his brain.


"Sleep with us? You must be crazy!"


"I am not!" Haldir stood his ground stubbornly. "That night during the thunderstorm. The
one you spent together in the cabin. I saw you!"


"No, you did not." It was Elrohir who answered. "Because if you had seen us, you would
have known what exactly happened that night."


"I saw it all in Lady Galadriel's Mirror," Haldir admitted. "Even before it all came to
pass."


"Didn't she warn you that the Mirror was a treacherous source?" Elrohir asked
incredulously. "That it is not enough to manage to see something in it – one should also
know how to interpret what one has seen?"


"Do you want to say you did *not* sleep together that night?"


"We did," Elrohir replied calmly. "Literally. Sleep was exactly what we did. We all were
cold and drenched to the skin so we huddled together for warmth. Gildor was off to
Imladris as soon as the storm ended."


"Only to find you gone." Elladan stared at the Galadhel inimically.


Haldir felt the ground sway under his feet. Could it be true? Could he have committed
such a grave blunder?


"I did not know," he murmured. "I could not even imagine… "


"Of course you could not." Elladan's lips twitched contemptuously. "You just assumed the
worst."


"I heard gossip of him and you even before I came to Imladris!" Haldir defended himself.


"Hm? Shall I tell you what we heard of *you* even before you came to Imladris?"


"It all does not matter now," Haldir sighed dejectedly. "Even if he did not sleep with
you then, he does it now."


"Yes, he does. Shall I tell you why?"


Haldir kept silent, sensing he would not like what he was about to hear.


"He has been having constant nightmares ever since his return from the dead. He wakes up
screaming if left alone for the night. We share a bed with him to give him a chance to
get some sleep."


Yet another blow added to the shock Haldir had already got and he started to feel numb.
He tried to process what he had just been told but his mind refused to function properly.
He was able to understand only the simplest and most obvious things at the moment. He
looked from one twin to the other, searching their faces. "You mean… you are not his
lovers?"


Elladan gave a huff of frustration. "Sweet Elbereth, give me patience… Why are you so
obsessed with the idea? Will it please you to hear that Gildor has not taken any lovers
after you deserted him? Not even a single one. And not for the lack of candidates,
believe me. *You* have not been that abstinent as far as we know."


Haldir did not answer: it was a fair accusation, no matter what reasons lay at the root
of his promiscuity.


"All these years he has believed himself to be dead," Elladan's voice became dark and
dangerous. "And now that he has finally come to the only person who can prove to him that
he is wrong, you show up in his life again! When he has at last allowed himself to feel
something else besides pain and despair, you have the impudence to say ‘he cannot do
this'!"


The twins' faces were those of avenging fiends. Their pale silver eyes seemed to glow in
the moonlight.


"Don't you dare come near him again," Elladan snarled at Haldir. "If you even as much as
try to hurt him or rob him of his chance to find peace, if not happiness, I swear I'll
risk being cursed as a kinslayer."


Elrohir did not say anything but his face was just as grim and resolute as his brother's.
Seeing that Haldir was not going to reply, the twins turned as one and disappeared
soundlessly into the darkness.


Haldir slid down slowly to sit on the grass and buried his face in his folded arms. He
was trying to wrap his mind around all he had learned but the revelations were too
sudden, too incredible, too painful… Gildor *had* loved him… Gildor had loved him enough
to want him for his soulmate; enough to die of a broken heart after he had left him.
Haldir moaned in mortification. He had been blind and deaf and had ruined everything with
his own hands. Elladan was right: *he* was the cause of all Gildor's afflictions. The
guilt and remorse Haldir felt were choking him. He leaned back against the tree, taking
in slow painful breaths.


He knew he could not approach Gildor now, even if only to tell him how bitterly sorry he
was and to explain that he had left him not because he did not love him enough but
because he loved him too much. No, he was not intimidated by Elladan's threat. His entire
concern was for Gildor: Haldir did not wish to cause him any more pain or trouble. He
hoped with all his heart that Thranduil would be able to heal Gildor's wounds, to teach
him to feel the joy of life again, to make him whole and happy. Gildor deserved all the
happiness in Arda…


Haldir closed his eyes. The pain in his chest was searing, unbearable and… welcome. It
was the punishment *he* deserved.


A short distance away, in the glade with the fountain, Gildor was weeping in Thranduil's
arms. For the first time since his return from the dead…






The Crown Prince of Mirkwood was lying in his bed, propped on one elbow, and studying the
elf that was sleeping by his side. The young Noldo looked sweet and innocent. Ah, how
deceptive appearances could be sometimes…


In spite of Lindir's bold offer Aranaur had not really expected him to keep their date.
But the Imladris minstrel knocked at his door later that night and when he opened it,
Lindir entered without hesitation. The young elf was beautiful in an exquisite, delicate
way and at first Aranaur treated him like something fragile and vulnerable. But soon he
found to his surprise that the Noldo could take as much as he could give him. Lindir was
generous in giving of himself and his passion burnt bright and pure. The Imladris princes
had known what they were talking about when they praised the skills of their minstrel:
his technique was honed almost to perfection and his stamina could shame quite a few of
Aranaur's warrior lovers. But Aranaur sensed there was more to the little musician and
that mystery kept him intrigued and fascinated.


The Mirkwood prince twisted one of Lindir's dark strands around his finger and gave it a
gentle tug. The young Noldo sighed, blinked and the mist of reverie cleared from his
eyes.


"Finally you have chosen to wake up," Aranaur grumbled in mock displeasure. "It was not
very polite of you to fall asleep on me, you know."


Lindir blinked again. "I did not mean to," he mumbled guiltily.


"I am only teasing," Aranaur smiled. "You did need to catch some sleep. And you well
deserved it too."


Lindir's cheeks coloured a little. The prince pretended to study him closely.


"You look thoroughly… er… ravished," he announced then and watched, pleased, Lindir's
charming blush intensify.


The young minstrel indeed bore the telltale evidence of a night of passion. His braids
were in ruins and only the Valar knew where the beads that had been woven into them were
now. His lips were still swollen from kisses and there were shadows of fatigue under his
eyes. He looked endearing in his morning-after state. And absolutely irresistible. The
prince gave in to the temptation, bent down and caught Lindir's mouth in a kiss. The
young elf sighed softly under his lips, opening to him willingly. When Aranaur pulled
back finally, Lindir looked up at him with wide bright eyes.


"I love you," he said, his voice a little hoarse.


"Oh." Aranaur was slightly taken aback. One could usually make such impulsive avowals in
the sultry darkness of the night but not in the sober light of the morning.


Lindir read his thoughts easily. "You do not believe me." He bit his lip, trying to
conceal his anxiety.


Aranaur found that Lindir's dejected look was too much for him to bear. "I believe you,"
he hurried to assure him.


Lindir's eyes searched the prince's face. "Please, do not think I have made this
declaration on the spur of the moment. I have come to Mirkwood to tell you I love you."


Aranaur felt confused. "Wait, what do you mean you have come to tell me? How could you…?
Have we met earlier then? I do not remember seeing you before."


"Of course you do not," Lindir smiled a little sadly. "We met in L?rien thirty eight
years ago. To be more exact, we did not *meet* in the full sense of the word. We were
there at the same time. I saw you but you had eyes only for Haldir then."


"Ah, *that* time," Aranaur murmured. "I see… Do you mean to say you fell in love with me
thirty eight years ago?"


"Yes." Suddenly Lindir grinned. "The twins thought I was pining for your father."


"What?" The prince laughed incredulously. "Why would they?"


"There is a likeness of your father in one of the frescos in Imladris. They often caught
me admiring it. Only they did not know that when I looked at him, I saw *you*."


For some time Aranaur studied Lindir's face silently.


"You do not have to do anything about it; or to say either," the minstrel assured him
quietly. "I simply wanted you to know… "


Aranaur nodded, gave him a quick kiss and rolled off the bed.


"Oh, I am sorry. I must be delaying you." Lindir sat up. "Surely you have things to do."


He looked around, trying to spot his scattered clothes.


"Yes," Aranaur answered as he rummaged through his wardrobe. "Ada is expecting me for
breakfast in his chambers. This is sort of family tradition," he explained, turning to
Lindir with some garments in his hands, "to gather for a late breakfast on his terrace
the next morning after large celebrations."


"I understand." Lindir suppressed a sigh, pushed away the coverlet and crawled to the
edge of the bed to get up.


"Good." Aranaur dropped the clothes he had been holding on the mattress in front of
Lindir. "I do not think I can find anything in my wardrobe that will fit you, so this
will have to suffice. We do not have time for you to go to your room for your own
clothes."


Lindir sat back on his heels and for a moment simply stared at the prince in amazement.


"You mean… you want me to go with you?" he managed to bring out at last.


"Yes. Or do you have other plans, perhaps?" Aranaur grinned as he pulled on loose silk
pants and bound the cord.


Lindir felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. "No, I do not have any plans. But I
cannot go with you."


"Why not? This is not any official occasion, just a family meeting."


"Exactly." Lindir plucked at the coverlet uneasily. "I do not belong there."


Aranaur came up to stand in front of him and the young elf had to raise his head to look
him in the face.


"Gildor is going to be there," the prince told him. "And so is Glorfindel, I am sure.
Your princes are likely to be present as well."


Lindir shook his head slightly. "Gildor and Glorfindel are as good as members of your
family. And the twins are royal guests. I am neither family nor royalty."


But Aranaur shrugged off his objections. "You are my guest so you have all the right to
be there."


He pulled Lindir up by the elbows, making him rise on his knees.


"Stop denying me," he murmured against Lindir's lips darkly, sending delicious shivers
down the minstrel's spine.


Lindir felt his member twitch and swell eagerly at the prince's imperative tone. He
exhaled sharply and Aranaur's mouth instantly covered his, Aranaur's tongue sliding
confidently in between his parted lips. Lindir brought his hands up and laced his fingers
around the prince's neck, moulding himself to his solid form.


But Aranaur did not take it further than a heated kiss. He pulled away and commanded a
little breathlessly, "Get dressed."


Lindir climbed out of bed reluctantly and picked up the clothes Aranaur had chosen for
him. He looked dubiously at the loose pants and the dressing gown and then turned his
questioning eyes to the prince. Aranaur laughed.


"Do not worry. Everyone is going to be dressed like that. I told you it is an old family
tradition. No formalities whatsoever. When I was younger and Legolas was just a little
elfling, we used to have breakfast in bed. In Ada's bed, that is." Aranaur smiled at the
fond memories.


Lindir pulled on the garments and looked down at himself. The prince had been right: his
clothes were far from a perfect fit for the smaller minstrel. Aranaur came up to him and
helped him roll up the sleeves. Then, surprising Lindir to no end, he slid down to one
knee and turned up the legs of his pants.


"You owe me," he smiled, rising.


"I could have done it myself," Lindir argued half-heartedly.


"Not for this, silly!" The prince laughed and Lindir relished the rich sound. "We struck
a bargain, remember? I have met my end of it. Now it is your turn. I still have not heard
you sing."


"Oh." Lindir felt his cheeks colour in embarrassment. "Very well. Name the place and the
time."


"My rooms. Tonight."


The minstrel's heart missed a beat. "Is that an invitation?"


"No, this is an order," Aranaur replied imperiously. "A royal order."


"I obey, my Lord." Lindir bowed his head in an exaggerated obeisance.


"Good. Now we must hurry," the prince urged him, opening the door. "Or my brother will
finish all the cinnamon cakes by himself, the little glutton."


But it turned out Aranaur worried for nothing. Just as they went out into the hall, they
saw Legolas and Glorfindel exit Legolas's suite. The Crown Prince chuckled to himself:
his brother had the same freshly ravished look as his own Noldorin lover. But to make the
picture even more impressive Legolas sported a vivid love-mark on his throat. As they
exchanged greetings Aranaur playfully made a face.


"Eek, little brother, that must have been painful. Perhaps you should see a healer about
it?"


Legolas smirked. "No. This is a mark of honour. I shall wear it proudly for everyone to
see."


He beamed at Glorfindel and the Elda wrapped his arm around Legolas's waist possessively,
unwilling to let go of his prince even for a short time.


"I think you are simply jealous, Naur," Legolas teased his elder brother as they all
started walking along the corridor, "because no one has marked *you* as his own."


Aranaur gave a huff of mock indignation and turned to Lindir.


"See what I have to put up with?" he exclaimed accusingly. "This is all your fault!"


"Mine?" Lindir feigned total lack of understanding.


"Of course! Why haven't you left me any token of your admiration?"


"But I have," the minstrel argued, giving him a mischievous side-glance.


"That does not count," the prince said quickly. "I cannot flaunt it in public."


"Oh well… "


Lindir stepped in front of Aranaur, making him stop, curled his arms around the prince's
waist and latched his lips to his throat. When he pulled away in several moments, there
was a purple bruise on the golden skin.


"Better?" he asked with a smile.


"Yes, now I look more respectable, don't you think, little brother?"


As Aranaur turned to Legolas, Lindir met Glorfindel's eyes. The Balrog slayer quirked an
eyebrow, looked at the elder prince quizzically and then back at Lindir. The minstrel
blushed, smiled and gave a slight shrug. Glorfindel grinned and winked at him. The
bantering princes totally missed the exchange.


When they reached Thranduil's chambers, they found the king on the large terrace in the
company of Gildor and the Imladris princes. The twins grinned broadly at the sight of
Aranaur's and Legolas's matching love-bites but refrained from any comments in the
presence of the king. Glorfindel ignored their knowing looks, since long immune to their
teasing, but Lindir sighed, feeling a hot blush spread over his face and neck.


Aranaur took the young elf by the hand and pulled him forward.


"Ada, this is Lindir, Lord Elrond's… "


"…minstrel," Thranduil finished. "I remember that, ion. We have been introduced."


He turned to Lindir. "I hope you are enjoying your stay in Mirkwood, Lindir?"


The minstrel wondered if the king's question had a double meaning but then he saw
Gildor's reassuring smile and decided he was simply imagining things.


"Yes, Your Majesty, I am, and very much so. Thank you."


They all moved to the table that was served for breakfast and took their seats around it.
During the meal it was the younger generation that did most of the table talk. Thranduil
and Glorfindel made occasional remarks but Gildor was quiet, just smiling silently now
and again. The Mirkwood princes were surprised by his unusual taciturnity but did not let
it show, taking their clue from their father who was behaving as if everything were as it
should be.


After the meal was over, the company moved to the wicker settees and armchairs in the
shaded part of the terrace for the sun was already high and it was getting hot. Elladan
dropped a cushion on the floor by his brother's feet and sat down cross-legged, resting
his arm across Elrohir's lap.


"So, Aranaur, have you heard our minstrel sing yet?" he inquired merrily.


"No, not yet," the prince smiled.


Elladan shook his head in mock reproach. "For shame, Lindir!"


"I had no occasion for that," Lindir murmured, his cheeks colouring slightly under the
amused looks he received.


"Perhaps you could sing for us now?" Elrohir suggested.


"Perhaps I could. But I am afraid that it will not be a very good performance: my voice
is somewhat hoarse… for some reason… "


"Oh." The twins did not try to hide their mirth.


Aranaur came to the minstrel's aid. "Well, little brother, maybe *you* will treat us to
one of your songs?"


He looked inquiringly at Legolas, who was resting casually against Glorfindel.


"No, I must beg to decline," Legolas laughed. "It seems I am in bad voice today too."


"This is becoming suspicious," Elladan muttered. "Is this ‘bad voice' thing contagious?
Gildor, can *you* sing?"


"I?" Gildor looked taken aback. "No!"


"Of course you can," Thranduil said confidently, wrapping his arm around the Vanya's
shoulders. "If you could dance yesterday, you can very well sing today. You are not dead,
remember?" he added then in a soft murmur so that only Gildor could hear him.


"Must you always have your own way?" Gildor sighed.


Thranduil grinned. "Yes, when my way is the right one."


Legolas jumped to his feet. "I shall bring you a lute." He knew his father had one in his
suite. He was back within moments and handed the instrument to Gildor who accepted it
with a sigh.


"So what would you like me to sing?" the Vanya asked, resigning himself to the
inevitable.


"'If you go away'," Lindir asked eagerly and instantly realized his blunder when the
twins turned sharply to glare at him. "I am sorry," he mumbled. "Perhaps this is not the
best choice… I simply love the song so much… " He fell silent, realizing unhappily that
he was making things even worse with his apologies.


Gildor's face remained placid. "There is nothing to be sorry about, Lindir. It does not
really make much difference to me what to sing, and that song *is* beautiful. My
compliments to the author." He smiled at Legolas.


Then he touched the strings of the lute tentatively. His fingers were more used to the
string of a bow nowadays than to those of a musical instrument.


"I only hope I have not entirely forgotten how to do it," he murmured.


The first chords he played were halting and uncertain, but gradually his fingers
remembered the skill and the sweet music they elicited from the lute flowed smoothly and
fluently. The poignantly beautiful and sad melody of Legolas's song had never failed to
enchant Gildor. This time was no exception either and by the moment he started singing he
forgot all about his audience. His voice was a little husky from the lack of singing
practice, but this little imperfection strangely added to the effect it produced on the
listeners.


"If you go away as I know you must,
There'll be nothing else in the world to trust.
Just an empty room, full of empty space,
Like the empty look I see on your face."


Legolas's eyebrows crawled up: those were not *his* lyrics. He heard Glorfindel give a
heavy sigh. Worried, the young prince turned to his father but Thranduil was watching
Gildor, looking as upset as Glorfindel sounded.


"I'd have been the shadow of your shadow
If I thought it might have kept me by your side… "


Suddenly Gildor became aware of the tense silence around him. He pressed the strings of
the lute with his palm, breaking off the music abruptly.


"I am sorry, Legolas, they were the wrong words, weren't they?" he said quietly. "I must
have forgotten all the songs."


At this moment Thranduil's steward appeared at the terrace door.


"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the L?rien delegation is preparing to leave."


Thranduil nodded. "Thank you, Lamdil. I shall get dressed at once and go out to see them
off."


"Well, I think Legolas and I should join you, Adar," Aranaur said, rising. "So we'd
better get dressed too, little brother," he added, addressing Legolas.


Lindir caught Aranaur's hand. "I need to get my clothes… from your room," he whispered.


"Let us go then." The prince pulled him up to his feet.


"I think I shall also go out and say good bye," Glorfindel announced.


The twins rose as well as they were princes and had to observe the formalities. In
several moments Thranduil and Gildor were the only ones left on the terrace.


"Do *you* not wish to go out and say good bye?" Thranduil asked.


Gildor shook his head. "I said my good byes long ago."


Thranduil sighed but did not press further. "I shall not be away for long," he promised.
"I shall come back as soon as they leave."


Gildor nodded, plucking at the strings of the lute absently.






"Haldir."


The Galadhel looked over his shoulder to find Glorfindel by his side.


"Seneschal," he greeted him in an even tone and turned back to his horse.


"You cannot leave like this," Glorfindel said. "You should talk to him."


"Talk to whom?" Haldir asked in the same disinterested voice, checking the girth of his
horse.


"Gildor," Glofindel replied, trying to be patient. "He loves you."


Haldir turned around to face him. "He *loved* me," he corrected, his eyes opaque and
unreadable. "And what do you want me to talk to him about, anyway? Yes, I am sorry we
parted like that. I am even ready to admit that it was my fault. Probably I should have
done it differently. But I doubt that hearing me say this will change anything for
Gildor." He shrugged. "Believe me, things are better left the way they are. Perhaps he
can be happy again yet."


Glorfindel stared at him in mute disbelief: could the young Galadhel be really as cynical
as he sounded?


Haldir did not look disposed to continue the conversation. "Forgive me, Seneschal, I have
to go now. It is time for us to start on our journey."


He swung himself up into the saddle.


"I thought you loved him," Glorfindel said bitterly.


Haldir looked down at the Elda dispassionately. "I did. Farewell, Seneschal."


He turned his horse around and rode away to take his place at the head of the L?rien
party.




Two days later the Imladris delegation departed too. Prince Legolas left with them,
setting off on his first – and prolonged – visit to another elven realm.



Chapter 17. The Ways Of Love.



Lindir sighed for what must have been the hundredth time since their party crossed the
border, leaving the Woodland realm. He knew he had no reason to be as downcast as he
felt. When he had come to Mirkwood, the most he could hope for was a chance to see his
beloved prince and maybe to tell him about his feelings. He could not imagine even in his
wildest dream that Aranaur would like him enough to take him to his bed and keep him
there for three wonderful nights.

"Do not be sad, my pretty one," the prince told him in the morning of their parting. "We
shall meet again. I shall come to Imladris to visit my brother… and you. If you have not
forgotten me by then."

"Forgotten you??" Lindir looked shocked by the mere idea and Aranaur laughed.

"Then you have nothing to worry about – you shall see me again."

Lindir did not doubt Aranaur's words but he still felt sad: he knew the prince would not
have a chance to keep his promise very soon. The minstrel sighed for the hundred and
first time and looked around. However, the landscape he saw did little to lighten his
mood. The forest on both sides of the road was indeed murky, sinister and unnaturally
quiet. Lindir had heard many a tale about the horrible creatures lurking in its depths.
He tried to push aside the uneasy feeling that the forest was watching them and biding
its time.

Even the weather had taken a turn for the worse. There was a thunderstorm brewing, and it
meant that they were going to get drenched to the skin very soon, as they were unlikely
to find any suitable shelter nearby. Lindir's horse was getting nervous, sensing the
coming storm, and the minstrel clutched harder at the reins. He was not a very good rider
and never felt safe on horseback.

It was rapidly getting dark. Gusts of wind shook the trees and made their branches sway
as if they were trying to grab at the travelers. And then the storm was upon them, with
flashes of lightning and ear-splitting peels of thunder. But no rain fell yet.

"We must keep going!" Legolas shouted to Glorfindel over the din on the tempest. "We
cannot stop here, it is not safe!"

Glorfindel nodded in agreement, half-turned in his saddle, making a signal for the others
to press on, and led the way forward. The elves were struggling through the violent
storm, expecting every moment a heavy shower to come down upon them from the pitch-black
clouds above their heads. Their frightened horses neighed and tossed their heads,
champing their bits and trying to break into gallop in a blind effort to get away from
the storm.

Lindir abandoned his attempts to control his mount and simply prayed to the Valar that he
would not fall off. Suddenly a deafening thunderclap sounded right above their heads.
Lindir gave a start, jerking on the reins unwittingly. His horse, who was already on the
edge of panic, took the bit between its teeth and bolted, pelting away from the road.
Lindir gasped and dropped the reins, instinctively clutching at the horse's mane. The
frightened animal was carrying him headlong into the dark wood, forcing its way through
the undergrowth and jumping over fallen trees and thick bushes. Lindir did not manage to
stay on horseback for very long though. An overhanging branch caught him across the chest
and sent him off the saddle. Stunned, he remained lying on the ground while his terrified
mount raced away without him.

Gildor was riding with the twins in the rear guard of the company. When he saw Lindir's
horse bolt into the forest, he cursed and followed at once. Elladan gave a sharp whistle
to alert Glorfindel and then he and Elrohir came after Gildor. Luckily, owing to his
white colour, Gildor's stallion was easy to track in the dark.

When they found the minstrel, Lindir was already able to scramble up to his feet though
his head was still reeling. Elrohir took him by the hand and hauled him up to mount
behind himself. Gildor was scanning the wood around them intently, his senses warning him
of some danger very close by.

"Let us get out of here," he commanded.

Suddenly Silivren gave an alarmed neigh. In the blink of an eye Gildor had his bow in his
hands.

"Retreat to the road!" he shouted, shooting an arrow at the moving blotch of darkness.

The next moment they were under a swift attack. About dozen spiders emerged from the
trees, trying to encircle them. However a volley of arrows from the elves made them fall
back.

"Go, go!" Gildor yelled.

They turned their horses to dash for the road when a spider the size of a large dog
plummeted from a nearby tree at Gildor, sending him off his saddle. Even as he fell,
Gildor managed to plunge a dagger into the spider's belly. He hit the ground with his
shoulder, rolled and leapt to his feet only to face yet another, much larger and much
more formidable enemy. He jumped back barely in time to avoid the frightful pincers and
as he drew his sword he took a quick view of the monster in front of him. This spider was
as large as a horse. Its bent legs had great knobbed joints and there was a claw at each
leg's end. Its swollen body was covered with a chitinous spiky shell and there were large
horn-like projections on its head. Gildor wondered briefly at the new sort of devilry
breeding in the depths of Mirkwood but the next instant the hideous creature pressed hard
on him and he was engaged in a fierce fight for life or death.

Elladan's arrow struck the spider in the side, but though it did pierce the shell, it did
not go deep, the spider's hard case being as solid as armour. Elladan shot again and
again, trying to drive his arrows into the interstices between the plates of the
monster's shell. In the meantime Elrohir was keeping off the smaller spiders. Lindir,
pale as death, held tight to Elrohir's belt, trying not to fall off the horse and at the
same time not to impede Elrohir's movements.

Finally, as the giant spider reared up, Elladan managed to send two arrows in quick
succession into its belly and at the same instant Gildor ducked under its pincers and,
sinking to one knee, plunged his sword to the hilt into the monster's abdomen. He had to
roll swiftly out of its reach as the spider thrashed in agony and beat the air with its
forelegs. But its wounds were mortal and soon everything was over. Gildor came up to it
to jerk his sword out.

"Come on, let's go!" Elladan called urgently: no one knew how many more spiders could
descend upon them any moment.

Gildor's stallion was trained for war so he had not run away. Gildor vaulted into the
saddle and they made a hasty retreat.

The Imladris elves were relieved to see all four of their companions emerge back from the
forest, even if Lindir and Elrohir were riding double.

"We have lost Lindir's horse," Elladan told Glorfindel. "But it is no use looking for it.
In fact, I think the faster we start moving from here, the better."

Glorfindel urged his mount closer to Elladan's to be able to talk without raising his
voice.

"What happened?"

"Spiders," Elladan replied tersely.

Glorfindel cursed and turned to give their company a quick scrutiny.

"I think Lindir can ride with Maegened," he said then. "They are both slender so the
horse will be able to carry them without much difficulty."

Gildor listened to the exchange silently. The heat and excitement of the fight were
leaving him gradually and he started feeling cold. He shuddered under the harsh blast of
the wind and then there came pain. It spiked through his body, leaving him gasping and
reeling. He looked down at himself and saw a long gash in the side of his leather jerkin.
He wondered vaguely how he had failed to notice it. He pressed his hand to the cut and
when he looked at his palm, it was red with blood. Gildor sighed. The world around him
was swaying mercilessly as if he were on board of a ship amid a stormy sea. He tried to
grasp the horn of his saddle to steady himself but his numb fingers refused to obey. His
vision started getting blurred and darkening.

‘So this is it then,' he thought. ‘Finally… '

Then everything went black and he slid off his horse, sinking to the ground.

At first no one noticed Gildor fall as rain chose this very moment to come down upon them
in a heavy pour. But then Glorfindel heard Gildor's stallion give a desperate neigh and
turned to find his saddle empty. His first thought was that Gildor had been taken down
with an arrow – so sudden was his collapse. Glorfindel scanned swiftly the forest around
them for any sign of enemies but there were none.

When he looked back at his friend, he found Elladan and Lindir holding a spread cloak
over him, shielding him from the rain, and Elrohir checking him for wounds.

"A nasty gash in his side and a sting wound in his neck," Elrohir said, looking up.

"How bad is that?" Elladan asked anxiously.

"I do not know, El," Elrohir admitted uneasily. "The wounds are not mortal in themselves,
but there is poison in his blood… "

"We must go back," Legolas interjected. "Our healers know how to fight the spider poison.
But we must not tarry. Time is crucial in such cases."

As soon as Elrohir dressed Gildor's wounds, the Imladris party turned their horses,
heading back for Thranduil's realm and riding as fast as they could. But still they were
moving too slowly for Elladan's liking. Gildor was still and cold in his arms, and
Elladan remembered only too well a similar ride Elrohir and he had had fourteen years
ago. They failed to bring Gildor alive to Imladris then and the thought that they could
be late once again scared Elladan to no end.

The Mirkwood border guards were surprised to see the Imladris elves come back and
aggrieved to learn the reason for their return. They offered an antidote for the spider
poison they had in their first aid kit and for a moment everyone's hope soared high. But
the medicine did not seem to have any noticeable effect on the unconscious Vanya. The
twins then left their weary companions to finish their way at a more sparing pace while
they galloped to Thranduil's palace in a hurry to get Gildor to the help he so badly
needed. The captain of the patrol gave them fresh horses and sent a guard ahead of them
to alert the king.

When they arrived, they found Thranduil waiting for them, surrounded by his best healers.
The king looked composed and calm but his eyes were dark with worry. He took over Gildor
from Elladan and strode swiftly to the surgery, where everything was prepared for
examination and giving any required aid. As soon as Thranduil put his friend's still form
down onto the surgical table, his Chief Healer Maengam ushered him out, kindly but
resolutely. The twins in their sodden dirty clothes were not even let through the door.

"Please, wait here, My Lords," Maengam said. "You cannot be of any help to us in there."

"Wait!" Elrohir stopped the healer before he could disappear into the surgery. "You
should know: that was not an ordinary spider that gave Gildor those wounds."

Elrohir briefly described the creature Gildor had had to fight. Thranduil listened grimly
to the account of a new evil at his doorstep. When Elrohir finished, the Chief Healer
nodded.

"Thank you. That could be useful. I assure you we shall do the utmost in our power to
save Lord Gildor's life."

He entered the surgery and closed the door behind him. That door remained shut for many
long torturous hours…



Elladan rubbed his face with his hands and then jumped to his feet to pace the waiting
room again. He could not stay in one place. The longer they had to wait, the more anxious
everyone became and the weaker their hope grew.

"He was smiling," Elladan said, talking to no one in particular. "He was unconscious and
bleeding but he was smiling… I should have known… He has been seeking death so
persistently that he was sure to find it."

"This is all my fault," Lindir whispered, sick with remorse.

"Hush, this is not your fault." Aranaur pressed Lindir's tear-stained face into his
shoulder. "Nobody blames you, except yourself."

"This is the third time I see him hovering on the edge between life and death in a mere
fifteen years," Glorfindel sighed. "This is a bit too often for my liking."

The Elda had lost the air of his usual cheerfulness; his eyes were ancient and weary.
Legolas squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Gildor will be all right," he said confidently but threw a glance at his father in the
hard-to-overcome childish belief that his Ada could put just *anything* right.

Thranduil lowered his lashes hiding the expression of helplessness: it was not in his
power to save his friend. He was not the one who could challenge Mandos for Gildor's
spirit…

At this moment the door to the surgery finally opened and Maengam came into the waiting
room, looking drained and not too happy. Their hearts sinking, everyone rose to their
feet. Thranduil stepped forward.

"How is he, Maengam?"

The healer sighed. "Lord Gildor is alive. His wounds are not mortal and it seems we have
managed to find an antidote for this new sort of venom."


isn't there?"

Maengam nodded. "But his state is still precarious. We have done everything in our power
to help him. We can do no more. In order to survive, he has to fight for his life but...
"

"…he does not want to fight," Elrohir finished quietly.

"Do you want to say there is no hope?" Glorfindel asked incredulously.

The healer shrugged wearily. "Under such circumstances I would not risk making any
prognosis."

"There is always hope," Thranduil said firmly, demonstrating more confidence than he
really felt. "I shall have Gildor moved to his suite," he informed Maengam. "I do not
want him to wake up in a ward. He will hate that. But I would like a healer to be in
constant attendance by his bedside, starting tomorrow morning. I shall stay with him
through the rest of this night."

When Gildor was placed comfortably into the vast bed and only Thranduil and the twins
remained in the room, the king allowed himself a moment of weakness. He sank down into an
armchair and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wishing he would wake up to
find that it all was only a bad dream.

"Gildor, please," he heard Elladan's voice, "you cannot do this. You must not do this!"

Thranduil opened his eyes. The elder twin was kneeling at Gildor's bedside, holding the
Vanya's lifeless hand in his.

"Do you think we can reach him, Ro?" Elladan asked his brother, who was sitting, perched
on the edge of the mattress.

Elrohir shook his head.

"But we did it before!" Elladan argued desperately.

"That time Ada was with us," Elrohir replied softly, stroking his twin's shoulder in
consolation.

Thranduil bit on his lip, thinking deeply.

"You must farspeak with Haldir," he said then, "and ask him to come here."

The princes turned their heads simultaneously to stare at him in silence.

"Do you not realize that Gildor still loves him?" the king went on urgently. "If there is
one person who can reach Gildor and bring him back, it is Haldir."

There was a long pause. The twins' faces were carefully expressionless but the very lack
of emotion suggested there was deep speculation going on behind their narrowed eyes.

"No," Elladan said finally. Thranduil gave an exclamation of pure frustration but the
elder prince ignored it. "We are not that good at farspeaking," he explained evenly. "We
cannot talk to anyone we choose."

He rose to his feet and walked to the window to stare into darkness. Thranduil looked at
Elrohir inquiringly but the young elf gave a helpless shrug.

"This is true," he confirmed.

Then he got up as well and went to join his brother by the window. They stood, talking
quietly between themselves. Thranduil leaned back and rested his head against the high
back of his armchair. The pressure that had been building behind his eyes reached its
pinnacle. He knew he had to find a way out and fast or it would be too late. He heard the
twins come to stand in front of him and looked up.

"We shall farspeak with our grandmother," Elladan informed him gravely. "We can do that
much. Let *her* decide what to tell or not to tell the Marchwarden."



Ever since they had left Mirkwood, Rúmil had been watching his younger brother with an
uneasy feeling that kept growing. He felt that something was very wrong. He had lost
sight of Haldir during the ball in Thranduil's Grand Hall and when they met again in the
chamber they shared, Haldir looked quite normal, if a little distant. Rúmil wrote off
Haldir's lack of sociability as the result of emotional strain and weariness. However,
all the way back to Lórien Haldir remained silent and withdrawn as if he were somewhere
very far in his thoughts. Rúmil did not like his brother's quiet in the least. It was not
the quiet of peace and contentment, Rúmil could say that much. It almost felt like Haldir
were dead on the inside of his still breathing and still pretty-looking shell. Rúmil
tried to approach him with questions but did not get more than Haldir's usual retort of
"I am fine".

On their way home Haldir stood all the night watches and even when he was not on guard,
he did not sleep. He ate little and only when Rúmil made him. By the time they reached
Lórien Haldir looked jaded, even frail. Orophin, who met them at the border, was shocked
by his youngest brother's appearance. He dragged Rúmil aside and demanded to explain to
him what in the name of Manwë had happened to their sibling, but Rúmil could not tell him
much.

The elves of the delegation continued their way to Caras Galadhon but Haldir stayed with
his patrol, saying he had no urgent business in the city and could as well return in a
few days' time when their shift was over. Rúmil stayed too, not wishing to make their
alarmingly depressed younger brother entirely Orophin's responsibility.

Haldir was sitting on a flet with his back against the trunk of the tree, sharpening his
sword with a grindstone. The monotonous rhythmic motions helped him to clear his mind of
all thoughts and memories. Rúmil, who was tending to his bow nearby, had tried to engage
him in a conversation but Haldir ignored his attempts and finally was left alone. As long
as Haldir managed to keep his mind blissfully blank, he felt almost no pain. He was
grateful for this little respite. Suddenly he felt someone touch his thoughts gently and
then heard Galadriel's voice.

‘Haldir, you might want to go back to Mirkwood.'

Before he could ask anything, a quick sequence of images was flashed before his mind's
eye.

Gildor fighting a monstrous spider; Gildor lying on the ground with his eyes closed, the
rivulets of rain turning crimson as they ran down his jerkin; Thranduil putting Gildor
down onto something that looked like a surgical table; an elf in the robe of a healer
shaking his head with a grim expression on his face; and finally, Gildor lying in a large
bed, pale and frighteningly motionless…

Rúmil was fixing a new string to his bow when he heard his brother gasp. He looked up to
find Haldir frozen on the spot with his eyes wide and glazed over, blood swiftly draining
from his face.

"Haldir?" Rúmil called, worried. "What is wrong?"

His brother did not seem to hear him, remaining still and silent, and Rúmil grew
genuinely alarmed.

"Haldir!" he called again, reaching out to shake him by the shoulder.

Haldir's sword slipped out of his numb fingers, clattering down to the floor, and he came
to himself. He looked around with wild eyes, grabbed his weapon and rushed to the ladder.
Rúmil barely managed to catch him by the arm.

"Where are you going? What happened?"

"Mirkwood. Gildor is dying!"

He shook off Rúmil's hand and was down the ladder in the blink of an eye.

"How do you know?" Rúmil called, bending over the edge of the platform.

"From the Lady!"

Rúmil picked up his bow and slid down the rope, hurrying after his brother. He almost
bumped into Orophin at the base of the tree.

"What is going on?" Orophin asked as he steadied Rúmil. "What is all this rush about?"

Rúmil explained as briefly as he could. "We cannot let him go alone, can we? So I am
going with him," he finished.

Orophin nodded tersely. "You will need a fresh horse. Take mine."

Soon Rúmil found to his distress that though he was riding a fresh mount and Haldir was
not, he was gradually falling behind. It was the first time he saw Haldir's stallion
being put on a real trial and now he understood why his brother treasured his horse so
much. Gloss seemed to have grown wings. He was carrying Haldir forward swiftly and
tirelessly.

Rúmil tried to persuade his sibling to keep together but Haldir refused to slow down the
pace, anxious to get to Gildor as soon as he possibly could. So after a time Rúmil was
left irrevocably alone and could do nothing but pray to the Valar that his crazy brother
would reach his destination safely; and so would he. Only when he made it to the border
of Mirkwood and learned from the guards that Haldir had entered the Woodland realm ahead
of him, being still in one piece, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. He decided he
could make a stop and give a well-deserved rest to his – or to be more exact – to
Orophin's horse.

It was the middle of the night when Haldir reached his destination. Like the Mirkwood
border guards, the sentinels at the city gates did not try to stop him. He crossed the
sleeping city to Thranduil's palace and rushed up the main staircase, leaving his horse
in the yard. The intelligent animal trotted to the stables, remembering the way to the
place where it had been lodged during their previous stay.

Haldir hurried along the corridor, some unerring feeling leading him through the maze of
passages and halls. Finally he reached the door he needed. He did not stop to knock,
simply opened it and walked swiftly through the empty front chamber. Then he threw
another door open – and saw Gildor. The Vanya looked exactly like in Haldir's vision:
deathly pale and unnervingly still. Haldir crossed the bedroom in three long strides and
fell to his knees by Gildor's bedside, frantically trying to determine if the Vanya was
still breathing.

"He is alive," he heard a soft voice and looked up to find an elf in the robe of a healer
by his side.

Haldir nodded gratefully, turned back to Gildor and took his hand. It was cold and weak.
Haldir had to swallow around the lump in his throat: he remembered this hand warm and
strong and so wickedly skillful…

"Gildor, wherever you are now, please, hear me," he pleaded hoarsely. "You have always
been a fighter. You cannot give up now."

The healer slipped out of the room quietly and closed the door behind himself. Haldir did
not notice him leave. He stroked Gildor's hair that used to be so lustrous and soft but
was dull and tangled now.

"Please, meleth, do not go." Haldir's voice cracked. "I know I hurt you badly and
unjustly… I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to cause you any pain. Please,
believe me. I love you! I have always loved you. If only I knew… Please, do not die! I am
not worth dying for. Please! You cannot die. Not you… " Tears started running down
Haldir's face. "Gildor, please, do not leave me! I cannot live without you. I love you so
much… "

Haldir pressed his forehead to Gildor's lifeless hand, sobs shaking his body.

"I must be really dying if they have you come here and speak to me of love."

Haldir' head shot up; his eyes wide, his eyelashes wet and spiky. When he saw Gildor
staring at him, he felt almost giddy with relief, though the Vanya's tone was cold and
his look was unfriendly.

"You have heard me," Haldir whispered gratefully. "Thank the Valar… "

Gildor's lips tightened. "What are you doing here, Haldir? Don't you have to be at some
other place, doing… whatever you have been doing all these years?"

Haldir shook his head slowly. "My place is here, by your side."

Gildor's eyes became hard and cold. "I have more nurses than I like, as it is. Go away
and leave me alone."

"No," Haldir said resolutely. "I will not leave you again of my own free will. If you
want me gone, you will have to drive me away by force. Till you are able to do it, I will
not go. So there is no use trying to get rid of me. Even if you decide to depart for the
Halls of Waiting, I shall follow you there."

"Are you attempting blackmail?" Gildor's expression was one of arrogant disbelief.

"No," Haldir replied quietly. "I am trying to tell you that I love you too much to lose
you again."

Gildor's eyes flashed with fierce anger. "Enough! I shall have no more of those lies."

Haldir winced inwardly but refused to waver. "You do not believe me. And you have every
right not to. But I am not lying. I love you!"

Gildor suddenly felt exhausted and hopeless. "We have been there before, Haldir," he
sighed. "So, for pity's sake, do not start it anew. I have lost blood, I am in pain and I
have neither strength nor wish to go through it all again."

Gildor's tired indifference rattled Haldir more than his rage.

"You do not believe my words but there is a way I can prove to you I am not lying!" he
said passionately. "You can read my mind if you wish, can you not? You can look into my
heart and see if love is there, is it not so? Do it then! You said you did not use your
gift of mind reading without an invitation but now I am asking, no, begging you to do it.
You cannot refuse me in *this* request."

Gildor looked at Haldir with narrowed eyes for a long moment, contemplating his offer. He
wished so much to believe him … Surely if Haldir was willing to open his mind to him, he
must be sincere, and this meant… Wild hope made his heart pound in his chest. He pushed
himself up and moved backwards to lean against the headboard.

"Very well," he said in a suddenly hoarse voice. "I shall do as you ask."

Haldir let out the breath he had been holding and smiled. "Thank you."

Their eyes locked and Haldir tried to relax and open his mind to Gildor. The Vanya's
presence felt different from Galadriel's. His touch was not as gentle as hers but it felt
so right and so welcome. Haldir did not try to conceal anything from Gildor; neither what
he had felt and done nor why, even the things he found shameful or regrettable. He did
not know for how long it all went on. Finally Gildor closed his eyes and sagged back
against the headboard.

"Damn you, Haldir," he murmured, his voice thrumming with hardly suppressed anger. "You
never trusted me! Damn you… "

"I am sorry," Haldir mumbled guiltily.

Gildor's eyes flew open, fury and hurt mingling in them. "As you should be!"

A heavy punch in the jaw caught Haldir completely by surprise and toppled him over onto
his rump. The sharp movement left Gildor gasping and clutching at his side. Haldir
instinctively made to get to him but then changed his mind and stayed prudently out of
Gildor's reach.

"What was that for?" he asked sulkily, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw.

Gildor gave him a dark look. "For Mergil. And for all the rest."

He tilted his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes. Haldir's heart sank.
He cautiously crept back closer to the bed.

"What now?" he asked hesitantly.

"Hm?" Gildor looked at him from under his long lashes. "Will you bind yourself to me?"

Haldir's aching jaw dropped.

"No!" he exclaimed when he finally regained his speech.

Gildor raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"I mean – no, it should be the other way round," Haldir hurried to explain. "It is *I*
who should ask *you*!"

Gildor chuckled. "Oh well. I do not mind. Especially as you are the one in the right
position for such a question."

Haldir frowned in confusion but then realized he was sitting on one knee and laughed.
"Yes, I suppose I am." Then he grew serious again and took Gildor's hand in his. "Gildor
Inglorion," he began, looking deep into Gildor's eyes and seeing them darken, "will you
do me an honour and bind yourself to me?"

"Oh yes, Silfael, I most certainly will," Gildor replied and Haldir could not decide if
it sounded more like a promise or a threat.

"I have no silver ring to give you at the moment," Haldir said apologetically.

Gildor chuckled again. "It does not matter: with a ring or not, you will *have* to marry
me now. There is no way out left for you."

"I wish no way out," Haldir murmured, kissing Gildor's hand. But it deftly slipped out of
his fingers, brushed his cheek and slid under his long tresses to curl around his neck.
The next moment he was pulled up forcefully and his mouth was taken in a hungry,
plundering kiss. Haldir had to brace himself on his hands, placed on either side of
Gildor's form, not to press onto Gildor's wound. His lover did not give him a chance to
be anything but passive in the exchange and Haldir yielded to him, moaning at the
familiar taste of the kiss and feeling his whole body sing with the sensation he had
longed for and failed to find in anyone else's arms. Lost in each other, they did not
hear the door open.

"You goblin, get off him!" there came an angry command.

Gildor threw aside the curtain of Haldir's silvery hair. "Peace, Elladan! He is not
hurting me."

Haldir slid down to sit on the floor with one leg folded under himself. The twins looked
at Gildor, taking in the colour on his cheeks and the light in his eyes. It seemed
Thranduil had been right.

"So," Elladan drawled, folding his arms, "I take it you have changed your mind and are
not dying after all."

"No, I am not," Gildor confirmed laughingly.

Elladan's heart made a summersault at the sound of his laughter but he preserved his cool
outward appearance.

"Good." He turned his eyes to Haldir. "As you have chosen to come and claim him after
all, he is entirely your responsibility now."

‘Do not muck up things yet again.' Elladan did not voice it but Haldir understood the
implication.

"Yes, he is mine now," Haldir confirmed softly, giving Gildor a meaningful glance.

"This is really a relief," Elrohir said conversationally. "He was becoming quite a burden
of late."

"What?!" Gildor exclaimed in mock affront. "You said you *loved* taking care of me!"

Elrohir grinned. "Yes, but… it has become sort of… er… too much of a good thing."

"Well, thank you very much, Ro!"

Elladan felt his brother squeeze his hand. He understood what Elrohir wanted to say. His
own heart swelled with joy at the sight of the Gildor they loved so much: derisive,
playful, alive. He wrapped his arm around his twin's shoulders.

"As we have finally got him off our hands, tôren, I think we can go and enjoy a sound,
undisturbed night's sleep in our bed, which is all our own again." [my brother]

"Great idea," Elrohir agreed merrily. "Good night to you both," he winked at Gildor and
Haldir.

"Try not to overtax yourselves," Elladan added as they turned to leave.

"Elladan!" Haldir called after him.

The elder twin looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Goblin yourself."

"Hm?" Elladan raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of his father. "We shall discuss
this issue later, Galadhel, when you are not hiding behind an invalid's back."

"Hiding!" "An invalid!" Haldir and Gildor exclaimed together.

Elladan darted out of the room swiftly and the pillow Gildor hurled at him hit the closed
door instead. In the front room the twins looked at each other silently for several
moments.

"Is it all really *over*?" Elrohir whispered. "Is everything all right now?"

Elladan grinned and nodded and the next instant they were in each other's arms, laughing
and kissing.

Suddenly Elrohir remembered something and pulled away from his brother. "Wait a moment,
El."


Haldir went to pick up the pillow Gildor had thrown at Elladan.

"You really should try to avoid sharp movements," he chided when he saw Gildor holding
his wounded side. "You only keep hurting yourself."

Before Gildor could reply, the bedroom door opened again. However, it was not Elladan who
appeared on the threshold this time but his twin.


"I thought you would want this back," Elrohir said, tossing something onto the bed, and
closed the door once again.

Gildor shook his head in amusement and looked at the thing lying in his lap.

"What is it?" Haldir asked curiously.

Gildor thought he already knew. He untied the string and turned the leather pouch upside
down. Two curved silver plates slipped out of it and fell onto the bedcover. Gildor
raised his eyes to Haldir's face.

"It can be fixed so that I can wear it again," he said softly.

"I thought it was gone for good," Haldir murmured.

"So did I."

Haldir was surprised. "You did not know they saved it for you?"

Gildor shook his head. Haldir gave him a lopsided smile.

"I think I can start liking the twins."

"They are not that bad, really."

"If you say so… " Haldir leaned forward to give Gildor a gentle kiss. "You know," he said
then," Elladan was actually right about not overtaxing your strength. You look like you
badly need your healing sleep."

Gildor hated to admit it but it was true. He felt drained and his side was throbbing with
pain. He sighed and nodded.

"Good," Haldir smiled. "Then lie down and try to fall asleep. I shall join you after I
have had a bath."

"I also could use a bath," Gildor grumbled, tugging at his dirty hair.

"You will have it in the morning. And now… " Haldir kissed him again. "Sleep well,
melethen." [my love]

Haldir thought he would not be able to find rest, lying in bed by his regained lover, but
he was proven wrong. As the strain, under which he had lived the last week, left him, he
felt worn out and weak. He made a quick job of bathing and as soon as his head touched a
pillow, he sank into deep reverie.


Gildor was slowly surfacing out of his dreams, which for once had been peaceful and
filled with light and laughter. He must have slept for a long time for he felt well
rested and strong. He remained for a while in the boundary realm between sleep and
wakefulness, relishing the feeling of well-being. But the pull of the real world on him
was gradually becoming stronger and soon he could already say that he was lying in a bed.
Ah, this meant the twins and he were not in the wilds at the moment. However, there was
only one body in bed by his side, and *this* meant the place at which they were staying
was not quite safe. But the next instant Gildor was suddenly fully awake as a clear
recollection of what had happened flashed through his mind.

"Haldir!" he gasped aloud.

"I am here, meleth." [love]

Gildor turned over and met Haldir's warm gaze.

"I thought it was only a dream," he whispered.

"I am not a dream," Haldir assured him with a smile.

Gildor smiled back. "Hm. I can feel that."

Haldir leaned forward. "Are you going to do anything about it?" he murmured seductively
against Gildor's lips.

The Vanya pulled back. "Perhaps," he answered vaguely. "Later."

"Perhaps?" Haldir exclaimed, feigning affront. "What do you mean: perhaps? And how much
later?"

"First, I am going to have a bath," Gildor started enumerating. "After that – a
breakfast. And then I shall have *you*."

For a moment Haldir was silent, absorbing the message in Gildor's words and coming to
terms with it. Then he gave his lover a jokingly sulky look.

"I am not too high in your list of priorities, am I?"

Gildor laughed. "Come on, Silfael! I do need a bath; otherwise you simply will not want
to touch me."

"That is not true!" Haldir argued.

But Gildor ignored his remark. "And I need a breakfast just as badly, because I need
strength for what I have in mind for you."

"Very well," Haldir complied reluctantly. "But I think you should ask for lunch, not
breakfast. It is well past midday now."

"Oh. Have you been awake for long?"

"For some time."

"Why did you not get up then?"

"I did not want you to wake up alone, in an empty bed."

"That was very thoughtful of you." Gildor stroked Haldir's cheek.

Haldir leaned into the touch. "As you insist on having a meal first," he said, "I suggest
we have it together and then, while you are having your bath, I shall go and see
Thranduil."

"About what?"

"I entered his kingdom without permission, under the cover of the night. The least I can
do now is to go and say hello."

Gildor chuckled. "Well, if you think you must, do. But I am sure he knows everything
about your coming here."

"Perhaps I also should ask a healer to come and examine you?" Haldir suggested.

"What for?" Gildor looked genuinely surprised. "I am fine. The wound was not serious from
the very beginning. And there is no poison in my blood any longer. There is nothing to be
concerned about."

Haldir did not look convinced but Gildor considered the issue closed.

"Have you come to Mirkwood alone?" he asked.

"No. Rúmil has come with me."

"Hm." Gildor stroked Haldir's jaw with the tips of his fingers. "Then I think I'd better
take care of this bruise before your brother sees you."

"I have a bruise?"

Gildor smiled instead of replying and Haldir felt a light tingle spread over his skin
from Gildor's fingers.

"No!" Haldir caught Gildor's wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. "You should go
sparingly on yourself, meleth. Do not exhaust your strength on trifles."

Gildor looked pointedly at Haldir's hand curled around his wrist and Haldir instantly let
go.

"You seem to doubt my strength," Gildor sighed sadly.

The next moment Haldir found himself on his back with Gildor holding his jaw in a tight
grip and kissing him breathless. In spite of the serious distraction the kiss created,
Haldir could feel the warmth emanating from Gildor's fingertips, and the characteristic
prickling it caused.

When Gildor let him go at last, Haldir looked up at his willful lover.

"Must you always have your own way?" he sighed.

Gildor suddenly burst into laughter. "Yes, when my way is the right one."

Finally they got out of bed. Haldir was surprised and Gildor was delighted to find a
table served for them in the front chamber. After the meal Gildor drew himself a bath and
Haldir left him reluctantly and went to find out if his brother had arrived and to talk
to the king.

Gildor did have to see a healer in the end. Thranduil's Chief Healer Maengam paid him a
visit while Haldir was away. But he only confirmed what Gildor already knew: there was no
poison left in his blood and his wound was rapidly healing. They parted, very much
pleased with the results of the examination.

Though Maengam assured Gildor that there was no need for him to keep to bed any longer,
it was exactly what he was planning to do, at any rate till the next morning.
Anticipation made his blood run faster in his veins as he waited for his lover to come
back.

When Haldir returned, he found Gildor sitting on a broad windowsill, watching twilights
gradually envelop the park outside. Gildor was dressed in a silk bathrobe. The slippery
material slid off one of his shoulders, baring the golden skin of his upper arm and
chest. His shining hair streamed down in lush waves and Haldir instantly wished to touch
it and to wind his fingers in the silky strands.

"You have been away for long."

The quiet comment made Haldir shift his gaze to Gildor's face. "Yes. I had to talk to
Rúmil. He had a lot of questions."

"Is everything all right now?"

"Yes."

Their conversation was casual and calm but it seemed to Haldir that the air between them
was thrumming with pent-up energy. Never had he seen Gildor look more like a beautiful
and dangerous predator than he did now, in spite of his relaxed pose. Haldir tried to
shake off the impression and smiled.

"I have something for you."

He came up to Gildor and showed him a small wooden box.

"Hm… And what could that be?"

Haldir raised the carved lid and Gildor saw two silver rings. "Where did you get that?"
he asked in surprise.

"Thranduil gave them to me."

"I see… " Gildor murmured.

Haldir smiled again, this time a little self-consciously. "He said that as I had not been
kicked out of your room the first couple of moments after my arrival, he knew we would
need them."

Gildor laughed. "His logic has always been unerring."

He rose to his feet, took one of the rings out of the box and slipped it on Haldir's
finger.

"This is for everyone to see that you are entirely mine now."

"As you are mine," Haldir answered, putting a ring on Gildor's finger in turn. "Now our
pledge is complete."

"Not quite, Silfael."

Gildor walked up to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

"Get undressed," he ordered softly.

Haldir raised an eyebrow. "Get undressed? Just like that?"

"Haldir," Gildor all but purred, but that purring was akin to a growl of warning, "you
have fourteen years of abstinence to compensate me for. So I suggest you do not waste
time; or breath either."

Before Haldir even realized it, his fingers started unfastening his tunic. Gildor watched
every movement of his hands, his intent gaze sending shivers down Haldir's spine: the
young Galadhel knew he is going to be eaten alive and would like every moment of it.

Finally Haldir stood in front of Gildor completely naked. He did not know what kind of
spell had been cast on him but he felt snared by Gildor's stare. His heart was suddenly
racing in his chest but he remained motionless, awaiting his lover's next command. Gildor
neither moved nor spoke. He was devouring Haldir's body with his eyes and the deep hunger
in them hit Haldir like a hot wave, which set his blood aflame and made it head down in
such a violent rush, that he gasped aloud and bit hard on his lip, trying frantically to
regain control over his body and not to climax there and then.

Gildor allowed him to take several deep breaths and then called: "Come here."

When Haldir obeyed and came closer, Gildor rose to his feet, undid Haldir's braids and
ran his fingers through his silvery tresses. Haldir gave a shuddering sigh as the silk of
Gildor's robe brushed over the head of his leaking erection. Gildor stroked his lover's
cheek, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Do not worry, melethronen, I shall take care of that," he promised. "Get onto the bed."
[my lover]

Gildor's voice was soft, as was his touch, but there was something about his manner that
compelled immediate obedience; some aura of ancient power, kind but awesome, which
enveloped him like a mantle. Haldir wondered why he had not felt it before. Had Gildor
hidden it so well or had *he* been so dumb that he failed to see a panther under the
guise of a kitten in his lap?

As Haldir lay down on the bed, he suddenly grew self-conscious and apprehensive like an
elfling, who was about to be laid for the first time. But then Gildor shrugged off his
bathrobe and Haldir forgot about everything else but the sight of his lover's predatory
splendour, bared to his eyes. He had seen Gildor like that many times in his dreams over
their years apart and now he held his breath, afraid that this dreamlike image might
vanish once again, leaving him needy and aching.

Gildor gritted his teeth against the immense pressure building in his body but he did not
wish to rush it. He wanted his young lover to submit to him completely and willingly and
to *enjoy* his submission. He had waited for this for a long time; he hoped he could be
patient for a little longer. He climbed the bed and straddled the tops of Haldir's
thighs. For long moments he looked down silently at the magnificent body, spread out
under him.


Haldir felt his taut muscles ripple and quiver under Gildor's steady gaze. He clamped his
teeth tight on his lower lip and breathed in shallow, urgent pants. Finally he could take
it no longer.

"Touch me!" be begged hoarsely.

Gildor smiled and ran his fingers lightly over Haldir's stomach. The feathery touch did
nothing to assuage Haldir's longing. He growled, caught Gildor's hand and pressed it flat
to his own chest. With a quick twist Gildor freed his wrist and the next moment Haldir's
both hands were pinned to the mattress on his sides.

"No touching," Gildor warned him, his voice deceptively soft like the brush of dark
velvet over bare skin. "Not till I say you may."

He leaned forward, bracketing Haldir's head with his hands.

"This is *my* game now," he murmured against his lips. "We play by my rules or we do not
play at all."

Haldir smiled weakly at this reminder of their first close encounter back in Lórien.
Gildor traced Haldir's jaw with his lips.

"Though, I promise you will enjoy yourself in the end," he whispered into his ear. "And I
promise that I will finish it properly this time." He bit slightly on the sensitive tip
to accentuate the promise.

Haldir gasped and arched under him, wadding the sheet in his fists as a surge of rough
need swept through his body. Gildor's lips traveled unhurriedly back along Haldir's jaw
line and then down his throat to the hollow between his collarbones.

Haldir felt Gildor's hard stomach rub like satin against his own, the soft, smooth feel
of his skin a remembered and longed-for pleasure. Haldir moaned aloud as their arousals
slid sleekly against each other. Though the contact was momentary and too light for his
liking, even that little was enough to propel him up to the edge of climax. He sucked in
a gulp of air in anticipation as his body tensed, preparing itself for blissful release,
but Gildor suddenly straightened up and caught the base of his erection in a merciless
grip. Haldir cried out in frustrated lust.

"Why?!" he exclaimed, vexed.

"Too soon," Gildor answered in a strained voice, trying to remain as still as possible in
order to bridle his own raging desire.

"Do you want to hear me begging first?" Haldir asked, a tinge of desperation creeping
into his tone. "If this is what you want, I am willing to start right now."

Gildor chuckled darkly. "No, Silfael, to have you begging is not my aim, though if you
feel like doing it, you are most welcome. What *I* want," he went on, his voice dropping
to a husky whisper, "is to give you pleasure so overwhelming and so intense that it would
purge all your memories of the others with whom you shared your body, if not heart."

"I have no memories of others. There has always been only you. Please?" Haldir tried to
plead.

But Gildor shook his head. "Too soon, Silfael, and too easy."

Haldir gave a huff of resentment and turned away. Gildor's lips curled up at his lover's
little show of displeasure but he still remained motionless, waiting for Haldir's pulse
to slow down, and in the meantime admired his profile, his incredible cheekbones and the
supple curve of his ear.

"Haldir," he called softly.

The closed eyelids flickered, lashes dancing on pale skin, but the young elf neither
opened his eyes, nor spoke. Gildor slid down to lay fully atop of him and framed Haldir's
face with his palms, gently making him turn his head. Then he kissed him, lightly and
tenderly, thumbs rubbing across the line of his jaw.

"You can touch me now," he murmured against Haldir's lips.

Haldir let out a shivering breath. His hands let go of the sheet to sweep hungrily over
the curves of Gildor's firmly muscled shoulders, then down his arms to the elbows and
back up to his shoulders. Then he laced his fingers around Gildor's neck, pulling his
head down insistently. Gildor complied and claimed Haldir's lips in an open-mouthed kiss
with a power that reflected his burning desire. Their kiss tasted like fire and Haldir
shivered with a sudden rush of pleasure. His hands came alive again and left Gildor's
neck to roam his strong back and to massage the full swell of his backside.

They were locked in a desperate kiss, their tongues sliding against each other, tangling
and warring, until they nearly blacked out. Then Gildor released Haldir's lips to attack
his throat, to trail a fiery line of licks and light bites across his chest, to swirl his
tongue around Haldir's nipples, which instantly grew puckered and hard. Haldir lay back
under the onslaught, dizzy with want. Gildor's skillful ministrations created lust filled
sensations that reached his blood and made it boil.

Gildor slowly moved lower and lower along Haldir's body, enjoying the way the powerful
muscles rippled and bunched under his lips and murmuring words of admiration and
encouragement as he explored every contour of the Galadhel's well defined stomach and the
sensuous line of his hip bones. Haldir's gasps escalated into moans, which took on an
edge of desperation as Gildor continued to ignore the pulsing heat between his tense
thighs.

Abruptly Gildor sat up, depriving Haldir of any contact and leaving him panting in an
agony of need. Haldir looked up and his breath hitched in his throat at the beautiful
sight Gildor presented in his impassioned state: wild, fervid lights flashed in his dark
emerald eyes; his lips were bright and wet; his hair fell in shining cascades, draping
across his chest in golden tendrils, and his turgid arousal throbbed visibly between his
legs.

Gildor flashed Haldir a predatory smile and suddenly flipped him over in one dominating
swoop. Haldir gave a startled gasp but offered no resistance when Gildor resumed his
titillating ministrations. Gildor swept Haldir's hair away from his shoulders, baring his
neck. The young Galadhel buried his head in his folded arms and gave in to a new surge of
desire as Gildor kissed his neck, nipped at his shoulder blades and traced his spine with
his hot velvet tongue. Haldir felt his body sing like a lute in his lover's wickedly
skillful hands. He had to bite on a pillow to stifle a needful moan when Gildor's tongue
delved into the crevice between his buttocks. However he was unable to keep quiet for
long. Impassioned cries started spilling from his lips along with delirious pleasure talk
as Gildor's tongue teased his tight opening and slid wetly in and out of his body.

Gildor felt his self-control rapidly waning, Haldir's moans and pleas fuel to the flame
of his own desire. Blood started singing in his ears and the hungry demands of his body
became inexorable and impossible to ignore. Unable and unwilling to wait any longer,
Gildor sat up and snatched the jar of salve from the bedside table. Haldir felt Gildor's
hands on his hips pulling him up on his fours.

"Wait! Let me turn over," he begged.

"I do not wish to hurt you," Gildor replied breathlessly. "The discomfort will be less in
this position."

"I want to see you… Please…" Haldir looked at his lover over his shoulder, his eyes wide
and pleading.

Gildor hesitated. Suddenly an idea came to his mind. "You *shall* see me," he promised
with a mischievous grin, leaving the bed.

Haldir sat back on his heels and watched in wonder as Gildor took the large mirror off
the wall and placed it on the bed in front of Haldir, propping it against the headboard.
Then he climbed the bed again, kneeled behind his lover, wrapped his arms around his
waist and smiled, looking into the mirror over his shoulder.

"Can you see me now?" he asked, kissing the juncture between Haldir's shoulder and neck.

"Yes," Haldir breathed as Gildor's lips found the frantic pulse on his throat. "Oh yes… "

Gildor pushed the young Galadhel forward with the gentle pressure of his hand between his
shoulder blades. He wanted Haldir so badly that his body shook with the force of it.
However he prepared his lover thoroughly and as unhurriedly as he could possibly manage,
all the while preserving their eye contact via the mirror and murmuring soft love words
and endearments.

Haldir felt neither doubt nor apprehension any longer. Gildor loved him and wanted him
for his own – that was all that mattered. When Gildor's clever fingers touched some
special spot inside his channel, a bolt of pure pleasure shot through his body, washing
away the remnants of his tension in a wave of burning desire. The next moment Gildor took
a firm grip of Haldir's hips and pushed gently against his entrance, forcing his flesh
apart and inching his way into the surging heat of the tight, smooth channel till he took
full possession of his lover's body. Haldir moaned, clenching his teeth against the sheer
sensation of being stretched, filled, claimed and heard a quick deep groan in response
from above.

Gildor stretched himself out along Haldir's back and pressed his forehead to his lover's
shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. The unbelievably hot and tight pressure of Haldir's
passage was so intense that it was almost painful. It was enough simply to be there, not
moving, just feeling the pulsing warmth encasing him.

"So tight… " he managed to bring out.

"So full… " Haldir breathed in answer.

Gildor raised his head and met Haldir's dilated eyes in the mirror. He smiled, as his
hands stroked Haldir's tense shoulders and back, and murmured endearments, mixing words
in Sindarin and Quenya and not even noticing it. His voice, deep and mellow like fine old
vine, never failed to have its enchanting effect on Haldir. When Gildor felt his lover
relax under his touch, he started rocking his hips, making shallow thrusts and moving
with excruciating slowness, all the time holding Haldir's gaze in the mirror. Haldir
moaned in response to the minutest movement of Gildor's hard length inside him. It felt
so good, Valar, so very good… However, his moans soon started getting a desperate note to
them: the tip of Gildor's sex was only brushing his pleasure node slightly when he wanted
it pounded. His whole body was screaming for release and fulfillment but Gildor was
keeping him balancing on the brink of climax, just an inch away from the edge and a
freefall into oblivious bliss. Cursing Gildor's stamina, he tried to push back and set
the pace harder and faster but his relentless lover held him firmly in place. Begging did
not take him anywhere either. He could endure it no longer. He reached with his hand for
his own neglected arousal but Gildor caught his wrist and brought his hand back to the
mattress.

"No touching!" he growled.

"You bastard!" Haldir felt the tears of frustration prickle at his eyes. "I hate you!"

Gildor gave a breathless laugh. "But you still want to marry me?" he panted.

"Yes," Haldir hissed. "Oh yes!" he cried out as Gildor dragged himself backwards until he
was nearly free of Haldir's body and then surged forward in a powerful commanding stroke,
hitting Haldir's pleasure spot with deadly precision.

"More?"

"Yes!"

Gildor flung off all restraint then, shoving hard into Haldir's welcoming heat. He was
gripping Haldir's hip with one hand so tightly it was going to leave a mark, while his
other hand raked across the sweat soaked muscles of his lover's back. Gildor's curls fell
in damp tangled tendrils, sticking to his shoulders and chest in places. Beads of sweat
trickled down his face, his eyes were closed in concentration and his teeth were clenched
in need.

The force of Gildor's thrusts brought Haldir down and pressed him flat to the mattress.
Haldir's painfully hard member got caught between his stomach and the crumpled sheet,
each friction adding to the blinding, overwhelming sensations he was experiencing. The
entire bed was vibrating with the power of their love-making and the mirror started
sliding down till it finally fell to lie upturned on the coverlet, reflecting the canopy
above their heads.

Resting his weight on his arms placed on each side of Haldir's trembling form, Gildor
shoved fast and hard into the surging heat of his lover's body as if he were going to
split him in two.

Haldir knew he was screaming aloud, could feel pain in his protesting throat, but he was
utterly beyond caring. Blood was roaring in his ears; he was close, so close… All his
world was now centered on Gildor impossibly deep inside him. One more powerful thrust –
and lightning cracked through Haldir's body and stars burst before his eyes. Pleasure,
the like of which he had never experienced before, fountained through him, leaving him
limp and gasping, his entire body convulsing with orgasmic shocks.

Gildor felt the tight grip of Haldir's channel pulse about him, mercilessly squeezing his
engorged length. Haldir's name fell from his lips as he buried himself to the root for
the last time and spilled himself inside his lover. Then his trembling arms gave way and
he fell atop Haldir, exhausted and utterly spent.

They remained joined for a long moment as they lay, drifting in and out of reality. Then
Gildor rolled off Haldir and pulled his lover against his chest, murmuring words of
praise and endearments.

Haldir was basking in the sweet relaxing warmth, enveloping his body.

"I have never thought… " he murmured.

"…that giving yourself to the one you love can be so utterly satisfying and pleasurable?"

"You said you never eavesdrop on people's thoughts!" Haldir exclaimed in mock
indignation, squirming a little and struggling to turn his face towards Gildor. Gildor
laughed and dipped his head to plant a quick kiss on Haldir's lips.

"Your thoughts are too loud. I cannot help hearing them."

Haldir chuckled and put his head back onto Gildor's shoulder.

"Then you should know what I am thinking right now."

"Yes," Gildor drawled, his hand stroking lazily up and down Haldir's arm. "I love you
too."

"You have said it," Haldir whispered. "Finally… "

"Yes, I have said it." Gildor smiled into the tangled mass of Haldir's hair.

"I still can hardly believe that this all is true," Haldir admitted quietly. "That I am
really so lucky and you love me… "

"Hm? Then I shall have to prove it again, don't you think?" Gildor pulled Haldir closer
to himself. "Are you sore?" he whispered sultrily into his ear.

Haldir shivered in pleasure and closed his eyes.


Epilogue. Ever After.



The door of the room was suddenly pushed open and Gildor gave a sigh of frustration. It
seemed no work could be done in peace today; actually, *nothing* could be done in peace.
But when he saw who his unexpected visitor was, he swiftly got up from behind his desk,
hastily adjusting his robe.

"My lady!" he exclaimed, catching the little girl into his arms as she ran up to him.
"Why are you running wild about the house when you are supposed to be prettying yourself
for your big brother's wedding?"

"Where do you see a lady here, Gildor?" Elladan grumbled, entering the room. "Your sight
must be failing in your old age. A nasty little orc, that is what she is."

The girl, who knew about the orcs only that they were evil and ugly, stuck her tongue out
at the elder twin.

"See?" Elladan gave a rueful sigh. "Why does it always have to be me who baby-sits with
this little monster?"

"Because you love her?" Gildor offered with a smile, hugging the child affectionately.

It was true. When Thranduil's reunion with his wife had been blessed with one more child
– a daughter this time – it was a joyous surprise not only for the family but for his
friends too. They all doted on her, the twins especially so for she filled the void which
had been left in their hearts by their sister's choice to follow Luthien's path.
Surrounded by a crowd of adoring males, Meren accepted their worship like the most
natural thing in the world. Her parents awaited her coming of age with trepidation,
foreseeing hard times for themselves ahead. It was of little consolation for them that it
was a long while yet before that came to pass.

"At any rate," Thranduil once told Gildor laughingly, "now there is a strong chance I
shall have grandchildren after all."

Gildor smiled in understanding. Both Thranduil's sons had chosen males for their soul-
mates. Legolas had been bound to Glorfindel ever since the beginning of the War of the
Ring. And Aranaur stopped resisting Lindir's charms, once the sacred duty of providing an
heir to the throne ceased to loom over his head. About a year ago Aranaur and Lindir
finally got engaged. Aranaur joked that now it was Lindir for whom it was going to be a
misalliance: he was a Crown Prince no longer while Lindir still remained a talented
minstrel, one of the best even in Valinor. When Lindir heard that, he got angry and told
Aranaur he did not want to hear about mismarriages again: he had fallen in love with an
elf and not a title.

"So, pen dithen," Gildor looked at the girl, "why do you make Elladan chase you about the
house? I thought you were with aunt Írissë. She promised to braid your hair and to dress
you for the celebration as your Nana has her hands full with the ceremony and all."
[little one]

Írissë was Gildor's sister, whom he had met for the first time only when he returned to
Valinor. She was bound by then and had two grown-up sons. Her husband, though, was
someone Gildor knew very well. He was none other than Ermenor. Gildor's homecoming was
happy indeed... Having no daughter of her own, Írissë had easily fallen prey to the
charms of Thranduil's precocious off-spring.

"I don't want my hair braided!" the girl announced, tossing her tousled locks.

Gildor raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

"Because you never braid yours." She stroked Gildor's unbound silky tresses
affectionately.

"Oh," Elladan drawled wickedly, folding his arms and putting his shoulder to the
doorframe. "The golden idol of a child's dreams."

"Hm?" Gildor gave him a look. "Elladan, I very well remember the time when *you* were a
child and also had certain dreams."

Elladan chuckled. "It would be folly to hope you will ever forget, eh?"

Gildor smirked and turned his attention back to the little girl in his arms.

"I am a male, pen dithen, so I cannot wear all those beautiful ribbons and flowers aunt
Írissë promised to weave into your hair. I would look ridiculous, should I try it."

The girl gazed at him, not quite convinced.

"While such a pretty young lady like you," Gildor went on in his most heartfelt tone,
"will look like Lady Elentári." [Star-queen, Varda]

Meren gave him a bright smile. "Will you marry me then?"

Gildor's eyebrows crawled up again and Elladan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from
laughing.

"I am afraid I am already bound, pen dithen," Gildor replied in amusement.

But the girl waved off his argument. "Haldir is not a pretty young lady," she pointed out
with admirable aplomb.

Elladan was unable to suppress his mirth any longer.

"I wish Haldir could hear that!" he laughed. "Here is Thranduil's child: all quick wit
and flawless logic."

Gildor managed to preserve a serious expression on his face. "I am honoured by your
proposal, my lady, but elves cannot change their soul-mates once they are bound. Perhaps
you could marry Elladan instead?" he suggested earnestly. "Or Elrohir? Or both?"

Meren threw a quick glance at the elder twin and pouted. "He has dark hair!"

Elladan shook his head in mock annoyance. "This is simply amazing: goldilocks' charms
never fail to work."

Gildor gave him an arrogant smirk and turned back to Meren.

"I promise we shall find you a golden-haired mate, young and very-very beautiful. But for
now, pen velui, give me a kiss and let Elladan take you to aunt Írissë. Aranaur and
Lindir will be most upset if you miss their wedding." [lovely one]

The girl wound her little arms around his neck and gave him a smack on the cheek. Gildor
returned the kiss and handed her over to Elladan.

"Put me down," Meren ordered regally. "I shall walk!"

But for this once Elladan was not inclined to let her have her own way. "I think not, my
Lady," he retorted. "We have no time for any more chasing, so do me an honour and let me
carry you."

The girl pouted but complied. Gildor showed them to the door and when the pair exited, he
fastened the bolt.

"You can get out now, lover," he said laughingly.

"Erestor warned me long ago that I would have to take care of locking the doors myself,"
Haldir grumbled, extricating himself from under the desk.

"Oh?" Gildor folded his arms and leaned back against the doorpost. "Let me remind you
that I had no reason to bolt the door. I was trying to work when you came in, dressed
like… this," Gildor's eyes roamed appreciatively up and down his lover's stark naked
form, "and… distracted me."

"Oh, forgive me!" Haldir replied archly and mirrored Gildor's stance, leaning back
against the desk. "I had an impression you actually welcomed the distraction."

Gildor smiled. "I did. You know I cannot resist your charms."

Haldir chuckled. "Even though I am not a pretty young lady?"

"Hm, that is a horrible flaw, of course. But you know what they say about love being
blind," Gildor murmured, crossing the distance between them with the gliding gait of a
large feline on the prowl.

"Yes, I know… " Haldir breathed, drowning a little in Gildor's bewitching green eyes. He
still was startled by how quickly he was aroused by Gildor's proximity, the ravenous
hunger that would instantly sing in his veins. "But now we have no time left," he
complained, his disappointment almost a palpable thing.

"I do not agree," Gildor purred. He suddenly hoisted Haldir up on the desk, pushed his
legs apart and stepped in between them, wrapping his arms around Haldir's waist.

"We have all the time in the world, melethen," he whispered into Haldir's ear, making him
squirm in pleasure. "All the time in the world… and an hour before the wedding, to finish
what you so recklessly started." [my love]

"Valar, I love you so much!" Haldir said huskily, taking Gildor's face between his hands
and looking deep into his eyes, which had become almost black with passion.

"Hm? Prove it then," his lover challenged him provocatively.

‘This is how I would wish to spend eternity,' Haldir told himself happily.

‘My thought exactly, Silfael,' came the instant reply. ‘Start already, will you?'



"If you go away on this summer day
then you might as well take the sun away;
all the birds that flew in the summer sky,
when our love was new and our hearts were high.
But if you stay, I'll make you a night,
Like no night has been, or will be again;
I'll sale on your smile, I'll ride on your touch,
I'll talk to your eyes, that I love so much.
Never go away… "