Title: In Twilight 
Author: Aduial (imladris@bellsouth.net)
Pairings: Elladan/Legolas, some Glorfindel/Elrond
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir must foster a year in Mirkwood, but 
Elladan finds something beneath the beech trees of the Greenwood 
he did not expect to find.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien except the ones I have 
created. Song lyrics belong the anime .hack//SIGN.  I am only 
borrowing them.
Authors Note: Story takes place 100 years after Celebrian's 
departure into the West.  Elrohir, for this story, is the younger twin.  
Most of the events taking place follow book canon. Big thanks to 
my beta reader Ilye who corrected my grammar, spelling and 
elvish.
/ / denotes thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~ denotes changes in scene



Chapter 1: Reluctance
Summary: Elrond announces to his sons his decision of sending them to Mirkwood
for a year; the twins are none too happy, but accept with reluctance.

“I refuse to go, Ada!”

“I too!  We are not children, you cannot force us into this!”  Elrond sighed in
exasperation at his sons as he slowly tried in vain to sink slowly deeper into
his chair, like the piece of furniture could hide him from the scornful looks he
was receiving.  He knew the twins would not take his news with good grace, but
their firm resistance was beginning to wear on him after an already long and
tiresome day.  Passing a hand over his eyes, the elder peered over his slim
fingers at his twin sons, weathered warriors standing tall and firm before him,
defiance in their matching stormy gray eyes.  Convincing them would be far from
easy, but he had to try as best he could.

“Listen to me, both of you,” the lord of Imladris said in an even, calm voice,
straightening just a little in his chair.  “I know you would rather spend your
time hunting down Orcs to avenge your mother as you have done faithfully all
these years.  You would probably prefer if I sent you to stay with your
grandparents for the year; at least in Lothlorien you can roam, with the
Galadhrim and help protect the borders.  But this is something I need you to do
for me; this is something vitally important.  This will benefit us all, and
perhaps mend any, Elbereth forbid, rifts that might have unknowingly occurred. 
Arwen is residing in Lorien at the moment, so I can ask no one but the two of
you to do this for me.  There is no one else I can ask this favor of.”

“But stay in Mirkwood?  For a whole year?”  It was difficult for Elladan to
disguise the emotion flooding into his voice; in the end he gave up trying,
disbelief and annoyance lacing every one of his words.  “Ada, you and Thranduil
are not exactly what everyone would call ‘friends’; I don’t know if there is a
proper word to describe the…relationship you both have.  The two of you rarely
speak to each other in correspondences, even less when in one another‘s
presence.  Why are you insisting we go and stay in his realm for a whole year?”

“Because it will strengthen ties with Mirkwood.  They are secluded and far to
the north.  They need a strong alliance now more than ever as the darkness grows
in their forest.”

“Why can they not have ties with Lorien?” Elrohir reasoned, though he knew
already the answer to his question.  The Golden Wood was further from the
Greenwood than Imladris was.  It made more sense to establish an alliance with
the Last Homely House than with the Woods of the Mellryn Trees.  Besides, there
were no longer heirs to Lothlorien with the twins’ mother gone over sea.  An
alliance between the Last Homely House and the Northern Woods would benefit more
than merely the two parties involved.  If such a bond between them could be
established, then Mirkwood would have an indirect link to Lothlorien, felling
two birds with a single shot from an elven bow.

“Can you not do this for me?” Elrond tried to argue, ignoring Elrohir’s
question.  “It is only one year.  You will be trying to win the favor of
Thranduil’s children, not the king himself.  An alliance between heirs is more
promising than one between the parents, especially after so many long years.  
“I am not asking you to perform a miracle, merely to help our kin in what little
way you can.  Saes, gwenyn-nîn.”  He looked each one of his sons in the eye,
hard steel gray against not so rough pale charcoal.  The lord silently implored
them to heed his wishes, not as their leader and ruler but as their father. 
Elrond asked so little of his children, save their happiness, that it was
difficult for any one of them to fully reject any requests he laid before their
feet.  With a collective sigh, the twins finally caved in.

“All right, Ada,”  It was Elrohir who spoke.  “We’ll go to Mirkwood as you ask. 
But that does not mean we will like it.  Do not be too surprised if one year
later you find yourself with two very grumpy sons on a warpath when we return.” 
A thankful smile graced the aged yet still youthful face as Elrond gestured for
his sons to approach, wrapping them in a warm paternal embrace when they were
close.

“Thank you, pen-neth--both of you.”  He released them, the warm smile still
etched across his features.  “Now go and prepare yourselves for the journey. 
You leave tomorrow morn.”  With a united nod, the twins turned, dark chocolate
hair swirling around them as they left their father’s study to attend to their
own matters.  Elrond watched them leave, a faint sigh escaping him as a warm,
pale hand descended onto his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“They were reluctant, but they love you,” came the voice of Elrond’s oldest
friend and advisor turned lover.  “In their hearts they would do anything for
you; Arwen as well.”

“Aye, that I know, Glorfindel.”  The blond nodded, a faint smile coming to him
as he knelt next to his lord.  Elrond gazed down at him, drinking in the sight
of deep ocean-blue eyes hiding, a bit mischievously, behind stray strands of
golden-blond hair.  The hand moved from his shoulder as the Elda lord knelt,
cupping Elrond’s knee instead, fingers trailing over wine-colored velvet robes
in its path.  They stared at each other for a long moment, when Elrond finally
let out a sigh, fingers lifting to twirl into golden locks spilling over
Glorfindel‘s shoulder.  “Was I right in asking this of them?  Was I right to
agree to let them foster a year in a place they have no real desire in visiting,
much less living there?”

“It is no secret that you and Thranduil are not the best of friends,” Glorfindel
reasoned in a soothing voice.  “In fact, it’s probably rather a stretch to call
you friends at all.”

“Aye, but I respect him.  He is a king of his own realm.”

“And you are a lord of yours, a well-known and great one at that.  For those
qualities he respects you.  He respects you as the lord of an elven realm, as a
hardened, seasoned warrior and as a great negotiator and lore master.  You
protect your people to the best of your abilities and they love you for doing
such deeds; he can relate to that far too well.  
“Aye he hates the Noldorion blood that flows within you; the same blood that
flows within your children; the blood that began the Kinslayings too many years
ago.  But that is something he cannot help, no more than he can help his own
bloodlines; the great king of Mirkwood should realize that if he does not
already.”

“You are right, a’maelamin.  Yet I am more concerned about his children.”  He
paused, during which time Glorfindel studied his features carefully, one pale
hand reaching up to twirl fingers in the chocolate hair that both twins had
inherited, mirroring the lord‘s own fingers still in his hair.  Elrond sighed at
the faint touch before continuing.  “I have not met any of Thranduil’s children. 
I have heard he has three sons and a daughter.  It makes me wonder how similar
or how different…from their father each one is…”

“Each of your children are different from one another, from you--even the
twins.”

“Exactly.  But there are also similarities between us.  I only hope that none of
Thranduil’s children have inherited their father’s haughty arrogance.  Elladan
in particular does not take kindly to such an attitude.  And they will be
associating with one another on a daily basis.”  As he finished speaking, his
golden haired lover rose on his heels, planting a breezing kiss on his lips.

“The twins are grown, and they handle themselves well in battle and in
diplomacy.  You have taught them, as have Erestor and I.  They will not bring
dishonor to you, your house or themselves.  All will be well, melethron, do not
worry.”  Elrond sighed yet again, leaning his forehead against Glorfindel’s,
smiles crossing each of their faces.

“What would I do without you?”  His lover merely smiled more brilliantly in
return as they drunk in each other’s presence, forgetting the world around them. 
All that existed was one another and the quiet moment they were sharing
together.  Neither moved for the longest time until a chime sounded, signaling
the start of the evening meal.  In unison the two lovers rose, walking
hand-in-hand to the dining hall.  One reassured the other with merely his
presence; the other smiled softly at the encouragement, leaning against his
lover.  Elrond resolved to show Glorfindel his appreciation for the other’s
patience and love after dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this such a good idea?”  Elladan turned slightly in his saddle to eye his
brother, who was riding next to him.  One week had passed since the discussion
with their father.  A mere day later the twins had left their home of Imladris,
laden with a few of their belongings and weapons, for the journey to Mirkwood. 
Barely a week later they could just now make out the tall, aged beeches that
made up the majority of the Greenwood, after leaving the Misty Mountains behind
them.  One more day and they would have reached their destination.  Yet the
twins still questioned whether this year in Mirkwood, a foster year they called
it, would really bring out a strong alliance with the forest king and his heirs.

“Well we can’t turn back now,” Elladan replied, turning his attention back to
the path in front of them as Arien sunk lower in the sky, announcing the
approaching nightfall.  A chill breeze rose, partly from the mountains they had
just passed and partly from the approaching winter.  The twins were glad of one
thing; they would make it to Mirkwood long before the white cold settled in, and
for that they were thankful.  “We promised Ada we’d do this for him, so we must. 
Besides, we’ve come this far, and the Greenwood is only just in front of us.”

“It still makes me wonder.”  Elrohir absentmindedly flicked a stray strand of
hair off his shoulder as he spoke.  “We’re either really going to enjoy this
year and live it as if it were our last, or botch things up and hate it
miserably.”  He sighed heavily.  “I would rather be hunting Orcs than doing
this.”

“As would I, gwenneth.  However, we are doing this for Ada.  Besides, there will
be plenty of Orc to hunt later.  Perhaps we should view this foster year as a
retreat.  After all, we have been roaming the lands for nearly a century now,
with barely any time to relax.  My body is beginning to protest under all the
strain of riding and hunting.  Let us try to enjoy this year until something
ruins it for us completely.”

“You’re right.  Let’s try our best to make the most of this time away from home
and in the company of our kinsmen.”  Elladan flashed his brother a bright smile
in agreement.  Wordlessly, they reined their steeds in, dismounting to break
camp for the night.  Mirkwood was close, but the home of its king lay deep
within its woods; it would take nearly half a day of riding before they reached
their destination.  As much as they would have liked to rest inside, in a warm
bed away from the chilling winds, Elladan and Elrohir relished the last camping
night they would have in a while.

Neither spoke as they unburdened their horses, one twin setting out bed rolls
while the other lit a fire and divided the remaining lembas.  They ate enough to
satisfy themselves, leaving the rest for the morning.  Still silent they lay
themselves down to sleep, identical pairs of eyes lying awake for a few more
moments to gaze up at the stars shining down upon them.  They felt little of the
cold, weary as they wer but stayed near one another and the fire nonetheless.  

“Elladan?“

“Yes?“

“What do you think Thranduil’s children are like?”  The elder twin thought on
the question a moment.  He wasn’t quite sure how to answer, so took his time
formulating a response.  Elrohir waited patiently for his brother to speak,
keeping his eyes fixed on the stars above.  Eärendil shone down brightly on his
beloved grandsons from above, providing the twins with a sense of love and
comfort in the cold and lonely night.

“I expect they would look like the king,” Elladan began.  “They might even have
a few of his mannerisms.  Mirkwood elves are said to be proud warriors, relying
on their own strengths before asking for the help of others.  His sons must take
such an attitude, and maybe his daughter to an extent.”

“Do you think they are as arrogant as he?”

“I hope not.  You know how I find distaste in such haughty, overbearing
attitudes.”  Elrohir answered with a curt nod.  “I have heard stories that his
sons are well respected among the border patrols, and the hands of his sons and
daughter are sought after by many a prospective suitor and lady.”

“Sounds a great deal like us.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”  Silence fell between the twins again as each became lost
in their own thoughts.

“Elladan?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think Ada is trying to tell us something by sending us away for a year?” 
Elladan smiled, marveling, not for the first time, how their minds seemed to
walk down similar paths.

“I think he is.  ‘Settle down, stop chasing after Orcs and trying to get
yourselves killed.  Maybe fall in love with some nice elf.  Just keep your heads
attached to your necks for the next thousand years and I shall be content.’ 
Something like that, I believe.”  He smiled again, hearing the amused chuckle
coming from his double at the imitation of their father’s voice.  Elladan
continued in a more subdued tone once they had calmed down.  “But I think he is
trying to gain Thranduil’s alliance.  By asking us to foster with the king, he’s
hoping to gain a trusted comrade in arms and smooth over any rough edges his
sons might have.  Ada means well.  He loves us and Arwen dearly.”

“I know he does.”  Visions became blurry at the end of Elrohir‘s words, eyes
turning blank as the elven sleep claimed them, the embers of the fire playing
mischievously across their hair, turning chocolate strands into golden-red as it
died down.  

The twins slept the night away, weary from travel yet hidden from dark eyes. 
Ears were alert even in sleep for signs of an attacker, but none came, allowing
the brothers to get a restful night’s sleep, their weapons unneeded yet within
easy reach.  As Arien approached to claim the sky yet another day, they awoke in
unison.  As silent as the night before, they packed their things, readied their
horses, and set off into Mirkwood, nibbling on some lembas as they approached
their foster home, steeling themselves for any sort of welcome they might
receive.

Translations:
Ada-father
Saes, gwenyn-nîn-Please, my twins
Pen-neth-Young one
A’maelamin-My beloved
Melethron-Love/lover
Gwenneth-Younger twin (endearment for Elrohir)




Chapter 2: Beneath the Beeches
Summary: Thranduil ponders his relationship with the Lord of Imladris while
waiting for his sons to arrive; the feast to celebrate the Peredhel twins’
arrival proves most interesting.

Sunlight playfully danced against the tall canopy of the forest, sneaking past
leaves to glitter across the ground and in the hair of five tall and fair forms,
Mirkwood’s king and his children.  Thranduil, as usual, was clad in robes of the
rich greens and browns of his realm; a gold circlet adorned his golden head, set
on his brow just above a pair of deep blue eyes.  An elaborate ring of mithril
was wrapped around his neck in curling waves.  His face was youthful, but an
aura of pride and royalty floated around him, creating a commanding presence
that few failed to notice.  He was an elven king, who loved and greatly admired
riches; yet today, for the most part,  he went unadorned.  Pristine and regal,
it was easy to decipher who was the proud king and father from the children who
gathered around him.  His eyes lighted in faint delight as they rested on each
of his beloved offspring in turn.

Arondil was the eldest, and nearly the spitting image of his father.  He had
inherited nearly all of Thranduil’s physical features, as well as a few of his
personality traits.  He was arrogant at times, but not to the extent of his
parent, his presence just as commanding yet holding a note of calm and
gentleness.  Like his father, he too sported robes of green, golden hair braided
away from his face.  To his side stood Celeron, Thranduil’s second son.  Rather
than possessing golden tresses and sapphire eyes, he had taken after his mother;
silvery locks swayed in the faint breeze, the air lifting them in the way of
green eyes.  His attire of a white tunic and moss-green leggings underneath a
long brown cloak was less formal than his brother and father’s, but just as
regal on his person.  He served as advisor to his father and his siblings;
Celeron knew well when to keep a secret and when one should be exposed.  He was
playful and mischievous, loving challenges, but also knew when to be serious and
quiet.

Celeron smiled in fondness as he watched his sister, and Thranduil’s youngest
child, Nimriel, skip from tree to tree, peering out in hopes of catching the
first glimpse of their guests.  She was a spoiled child, being the king’s only
daughter--and his youngest.  Nimriel tended to get her way without even trying;
it didn’t matter how much her parents or brothers would protest, she always
seemed to get what she wanted in the end.  Like her mother, she possessed an
innocent beauty for her young age, but one that hid a deep understanding and
sympathy for others; Nimriel often knew more than she let others believe. 
Streams of hair, a mix of gold and silver, cascaded in waves down her back,
green eyes, flecked with gold, wide and staring into the surrounding trees. 
Many a suitor had visited the king in the past, asking for his daughter’s hand
in marriage, though Thranduil had deemed none worthy enough for his child.  So
engrossed in her search was she that Nimriel ignored the fallen leaves and
branches beginning to snag in the ends of her white robes as she nearly flew
from behind trees, her appearance becoming more disheveled each passing moment.

“Lighthearted as ever, is she not, Legolas?” Arondil said with a smile,
addressing his youngest brother.

“Aye,” came the reply from Thranduil’s other side.  The king’s youngest son
possessed both the king’s colors and his mother’s regal beauty.  Spun gold wound
its way down his shoulders, braids entwined, within the tresses.  Eyes that
seemed to glow with a Silmaril’s light flickered left and right in blue flashes. 
Ever-alert ears listened to the surrounding forest for signs his sister might
miss.  He was dressed less formally than the rest of his family, preferring the
comfort and practicality of a  warrior’s clothes rather than the formal robes he
found too constricting or too billowing at times.  He was a stunning beauty
compared to his brothers’ regal handsomeness; some even said Legolas’ beauty
paled that of his mother and sister.  Most agreed, however, that Legolas
strongly resembled his grandfather above all others.  He was a warrior at heart,
often found in the company of patrol guards rather than court advisors and
counselors.

The soft whinny of an elven steed came to their ears; each one leaned forward
slightly to catch another sound.  Another whinny came before two riders were
seen approaching the royal family in the distance.  Keen elven eyes noticed the
dark hair of the twin riders, as well as the deep burgundy and rich brown tones
the elves of Imladris were known to sport.  Quietly, Thranduil and his children
waited as the Peredhel twins approached, reining their horses in and
dismounting.  As they bowed to the woodland king in respect, the royal family
couldn’t help but gape a little at the remarkable resemblance the twins held
with one another; none of them had ever seen a pair so alike in looks that they
wondered how alike the two thought and spoke.  They had known the sons of Elrond
to be identical, but the sight before them was still a bit startling.

“My lord Thranduil,” Elladan began, bowing a little more deeply in respect. 
“Might I introduce myself; I am Elladan.”  He gestured to his twin.  “And this
is my brother, Elrohir.  We thank you most graciously and kindly for allowing us
to stay with you and yours in your beloved realm for the following year.  My
father sends his regards and thanks.”

“I shall send him my own, son of Elrond,” Thranduil replied, inclining his head
in acknowledgement.  He forced away the faint grimace that threatened to spread
across his face.  It was no secret that the golden king held a little resentment
to those who possessed Noldorin blood, but he had come to respect some of them,
the lord of Imladris among them.  He was pleased to see that the sons of the
Peredhel were gracious and polite, obviously well learned in the art of war, by
their looks and diplomacy in their manner.  “Allow me to introduce my own
children.”  He gestured to each one in turn, each child bowing or curtsying when
their name was called.  “This is Arondil, my eldest, Celeron, Nimriel my
youngest, and Legolas.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Elrohir said with yet another deep bow.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Celeron returned, a smile spreading across his face
as he turned eyes to each twin.  Elladan copied his smile, but his eyes remained
focused on the form behind Celeron, that of his younger brother.  He blinked
once when he registered Legolas’ sapphire eyes returning his stare.  For a
moment nothing else existed between the two, except each other and the locking
of their gazes.  Quickly they turned away from each other, steeling the
quickened pace of their hearts and forcing down the heat threatening to consume
their faces and ears.  Legolas shuffled a little behind his brother lest his
father should notice; at least Elladan could play off any emotion in his face as
nervousness at meeting Mirkwood’s king.

“Come, you must be weary from the journey,” Arondil offered, gesturing to the
house behind them.  “Allow us to show you to your rooms so that you may rest
before the evening meal.  Ada has made arrangements for a warm welcome.”

“You are most kind,” Elladan said, surprised at the evenness of his voice even
as his heart still fluttered.  Passing one quick glance at Legolas again, he
began to help his brother unburden their steeds before stable hands took the
horses away for rest.  The dark-haired twins then began to follow their hosts
into the house and to their rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arondil was right, Elladan noted to himself as he sat in a seat around the
circular dining table filled with delicacies he both recognized, loved and
couldn’t guess at the origin of.  If there was one thing he had to give
Thranduil credit for, it was that the king certainly knew how to throw a feast
for his guests.  He had expected to find Thranduil to be arrogant and
self-absorbed, but so far the king did not seem to him so to him.  The golden
king seemed to be genuinely pleased at having the twins in his company and home
for the next year.  Perhaps Erestor and Glorfindel had been right when they said
Thranduil held no fondness for the Noldorion blood in their veins, but he tried
not to let it affect the respect he held for Elrond.  Now and again, Elladan
caught a grimace floating across Thranduil’s face for the briefest of moments,
but the next the king seemed to be intrigued in the tales the twins had to tell. 
Elladan was starting to like the king for his courtesy and respect for others,
though he still disliked the king’s arrogant attitude--which, thankfully, had
not arisen yet.

Finding himself wedged between his brother and Thranduil’s wife, Erinien,
Elladan listened to the lively conversation around him, but kept his eyes, for
the most part, trained on the person seated in front of him.  Legolas had
changed from his warrior’s clothing to a silver tunic and deep green leggings
for the evening, something just a little more formal than his previous change of
clothes.  The threads of the tunic seemed to shimmer in the light of the dining
hall, highlighting the prince’s golden hair.  Elegant, slim fingers were wrapped
loosely around a silver goblet, bringing the object to his lips for a sip of the
bittersweet cider it contained.  He caught Elladan’s gaze for a moment over the
brim of the goblet, holding it with his own before the elder twin broke away to
answer Nimriel’s question.

“I understand you have a sister,” the young elven princess said, a sparkle of
curiosity in her eyes.

“Yes, Arwen,” Elladan replied kindly.  “She resides with our grandparents in
Lothlorien at the moment.”

“What is she like?  I would very much like to meet her.”

“Perhaps you will,” Elrohir said.  “She is due back in Imladris at the same time
we are.  She is a dark beauty, with our father’s coloring but mother’s regality. 
But she is not one you would like to toy with.  Arwen frequently likes to tease
Elladan.”

“Why ever is that so?” the queen asked, peering at the twin to her left as
Elrohir broke out into a brilliant smile.

“Because he becomes embarrassed far too easily for someone accustomed to
battles, such as himself.”  At his brother’s words, Elladan could not fight the
blush that stained his cheeks.  Laughter broke out across the table.  “You see? 
For a seasoned warrior, methinks he blushes too much.”  Another peal of laughter
rang out as Elladan flushed an even deeper red.

“Brother dear,” Nimriel said gently, turning to Legolas in an attempt to draw
attention away from the embarrassed elf, much to Elladan‘s thankfulness.  “Why
not grace our guests with your exquisite voice?”

“Yes, I agree,” Celeron said with a quick nod of the head.  “In fact, I have the
perfect song.  You know which one I mean.”  It was not long before Arondil and
his parents also asked the same of Legolas.  The young prince felt the rush of
embarrassment stain his own cheeks, just as it had Elladan’s moments before.

“I have heard of the musical talents of Mirkwood’s youngest prince about as
often as his skills in archery,” Elrohir commented.  “I would be most grateful
to hear the often sought-after voice just once during my stay here.”

“You flatter me too much, Elrohir,” Legolas replied, keeping his voice as steady
as he could make it.  “Very well then, I shall oblige.  I cannot deny my guest,
who has given me such a heartfelt compliment.  I sincerely hope that this show
will be to your liking.”  The younger twin smiled as the prince gestured to a
nearby musician, whispering something into his ear to which the other nodded
before making a knowing motion to his fellow players.  Soon the dining hall was
filled with the sounds of harps, Legolas’ silvery voice following a moment
afterwards.

Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past

Take me back to the land
Where my yearnings were born
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now fly me there

He paused for a moment, letting the musicians continue of their own accord.  The
prince seemed not to notice the startled look upon Elladan’s face, which had
appeared the moment the first verse had left his lips.  For the words he sang
came from a song Elladan had only heard once before, coming from the lips of a
human girl.  The song had intrigued him for, as he listened, it seemed to remind
him of the Valar and past kin who first ventured to Middle-earth.  The first and
last time he had heard the song was during a journey to the north nearly twenty
years ago with Elrohir, though his twin had not been with him at the time he
heard the girl singing.  He was both surprised and awed that Legolas should be
singing that very same song that had captivated Elladan’s attention.

As the prince began the second verse, Elladan suddenly found his voice rising,
his slightly deeper tones mixing with the prince’s lighter ones.

Fanatics find their heaven in never ending storming winds
Auguries of destruction be a lullaby for rebirth

Consolations be there
In my dreamland to come
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now take me there

I believe in fantasies invisible to me
In the land of misery I’m searching for the sun
To the door of mystery and dignity
I’m wandering down, and searching down the secret sun

By now, nearly at the end, Elladan had closed his eyes, unable to see the
surprised looks that his twin as well as Thranduil, his wife and children were
throwing his way and Legolas’.  They listened intently, marveling at the sounds
of slight alto and tenor mixing magically in a way they had never heard before.

Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while
Tell me of a story never ever told in the past

Take me back to the land
Where my yearnings were born
The key to open the door is in your hand
Now take me there
To the land of twilight

Only as the song ended did Elladan open his eyes, gray orbs peering around and
registering the awed and surprised looks given to him.  He smiled sheepishly,
barely noticing the flush that had crept upon Legolas’ face in his slight
embarrassment as well.  All was silent for a moment before Thranduil spoke, a
hint of laughter, pride and approval in his voice.

“I dare say that was the best show I’ve seen, or heard, in a long time,” his
voice boomed slightly, a smile spreading across his face.  The others nodded and
voiced their agreement as dinner proceeded on an even merrier note than it had
before.

“Pray tell, where did you learn that song?” Erinien asked, curiosity weaving
into her voice as she turned to Elladan.  “I have only heard Legolas sing it
before, and he said he learned it whilst venturing the woods, stumbling upon a
young girl by a river singing to herself.”

“That was how I learned it as well,” Elladan replied.  “Perhaps we both found
the girl, but missed each other.  A pity, for I would have enjoyed another’s
company in learning such a song.”  He barely caught a smile of contentment
creeping across Legolas’ face before Arondil engaged him into another line of
conversation.  As he spoke with the eldest Mirkwood prince, Elladan couldn’t
help but feel that perhaps this foster year would be much better than he and his
brother had previously anticipated.	

Translation: 
Arondil-Lover of the Forest
Celeron-Silver Forest
Nimriel-White Garlanded Maiden
Peredhel-Half-elven




Chapter 3: Target Practice
Summary: Not wishing to be idle while staying in Mirkwood, Elladan and Elrohir
decide to join the sons of Thranduil in their daily practices with the border
patrol.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Elladan and Elrohir had arrived in Mirkwood. 
They found their stay most enjoyable, spending time recounting tales of hunts
and feasts to eager young elflings fascinated with the dark twins, or spending
hours in the small but engaging library, reading up on Sindarian lore that they
could not find in their father’s vast study or library.  Some days they spent
riding in the area surrounding the elf home.  They were amazed at the aged trees
that covered the Greenwood forest, marveling at the natural beauty of the place. 
Mirkwood was similar to Imladris, yet different all the same.  The old trees
made them feel like children again as, at times, they would abandon their steeds
and attempt to climb the aged oaks, beeches, birches and cedars.

But, after a time, the twins found themselves becoming weary of such activities,
and sought out new ones lest they become restless and idle.  They were eager to
hunt, especially if the target were Orcish in origin, but knew that, while they
stayed in Mirkwood, Thranduil was their guardian; this was his realm and they
were guests, so his rules and orders would be obeyed.  Asking the king to allow
the twins to ride in his border patrol would be out of the question.  Deciding
they needed some physical activities to strengthen their limbs and weary their
minds, Elladan and Elrohir set out with bows and quivers in tow into one of
Mirkwood’s designated target spots.  They were laughing as they recounting their
training years in Imladris before their majority as they neared the spot, only
to find themselves faced with the three woodland princes and a band of young
apprentice patrol guards.

“Elladan, Elrohir, what brings you out and about this early after morning meal?”
Arondil greeted as the twins approached, clad in the garments of Imladris’
border patrol.  Though it might have been more practical to wear the greens and
browns of Mirkwood, they found it much more comfortable to wear the colors of
their home, and the garments they had spent so long breaking in.  The princes
didn’t seem to mind, and their young charges seemed awed by the dark pair.

“Restlessness, meldir,” Elrohir replied.  “We grow weary of a still life.  Our
father is a lore master, and, while we enjoy company among numerous scrolls and
books, the outdoors suits us better.  We need something to occupy our minds and
strengthen our limbs.  Tis a pleasant day, and some archery will do us a world
of good.”

“You have made impeccable time then,” Celeron said with a smile, gesturing to
the half-dozen patrol apprentices gathered behind him.  Young eyes were fixed on
the dark elves in wonder and amazement, for few elves of Mirkwood possessed the
dark complexion both twins sported, nor had any of them seen twins so alike. 
“Today is when these elflings are to learn the way of the bow.  Perhaps a
demonstration from marksmen of the valley will give them a sight to behold, for
I am told Imladrian elves are as quick as those of both these woods and the
golden one.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Elrohir asked with a grin, eyes twinkling as he
turned to his brother, who gave him a similar smirk.

“I dare say it is!  But nay, not against myself.  I am only a fair shot, far
better with the sword than my bow.  Perhaps Legolas would make a more worthy
challenge.”

“Again you flatter me, gwanur-nîn,” the youngest prince said, leaning casually
upon his bow.  Yet his eyes sparkled in mirth as Elladan found himself almost
drowning in their very depths.  “And you are being modest.  I accept your
challenge, with grace.  Though I warn you, I am counted among the best archers
here in the Greenwood.  Few can best my precise aim.”

“And Elladan is the best in Imladris,” Elrohir countered, a devilish grin
spreading across his features as he noticed his brother gaping at him.  “Many an
Orc have tried to run from us, but all were felled by the strumming of Elladan‘s
bow and the swift flight of his arrows.”  A deep flush colored the tips of
Elladan’s ears in his embarrassment; he could not believe his brother had just
accepted a challenge for him!  Nor could he imagine Elrohir to ever be bragging
about his accomplishments.  Before he could say something, however, he found
Legolas’ eyes trained on him.

“What say you, Elladan?” he asked.  Swallowing thickly, Elladan stilled his
breathing, his hands clenching for a moment around his bow before he turned eyes
to the prince.

“I accept,” he said simply, watching as delight registered across Legolas’
delicate face.  He felt another flush creeping up on him, but willed it away as
he watched the golden-tressed prince slip a green feathered arrow from his
quiver, nocking it to his bowstring before drawing back.  His movements were
elegant, his eyes fixed on their target, a thick beech tree nearly three hundred
feet away.  It would see that he had practiced his technique for centuries until
the motions became flawless and graceful, his aim precise.  There was but a
second’s pause before he released, the arrow whistling faintly in the air before
stabbing into the bark with a faint thud.  Applause erupted around the young
prince as it was noted he had struck the notch in the wood he had been aiming
for.

“Impressive,” Elladan said as Legolas stepped back, allowing the dark-haired
warrior to take his turn.

~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas found it difficult to keep his eyes still as he stood behind Elladan,
watching as the warrior took his turn.  He had been fascinated by the dark,
enchanting beauty since the moment he had ridden up with his brother.  Elrohir,
too, was just as enticing, but there was something in Elladan that Legolas found
most appealing, yet he could not determine what it was he was drawn to.  The
young prince often found himself fighting his own rising blush as Elladan
colored whenever he felt he was being embarrassed in some fashion.  Often times
the prince would catch himself gazing down at the warrior from his balcony as
Elladan and Elrohir explored his family’s kingdom.  As each day passed, he found
it more and more difficult to keep his eyes anywhere except trained on the elder
twin.

As Elladan made ready his shot, Legolas found his eyes roaming the other’s body
as they have done many times before.  The peredhel twin was tall--slightly
taller than most elves.  In the last couple of weeks, Legolas had noticed that
the twins were slightly less keen to sounds and smells than the other elves
were, sometimes noticing how they shivered faintly when a particularly cold
night breeze blew.  Such behavior he also attributed to the mannish blood in
them.  However, as he watched, he noted that Elladan still retained his elven
elegance, his movements light and graceful as he planted his feet and set up his
shot.  The muscles of his back could be seen growing taut through his dark
wine-colored tunic as he drew back his bow, the elven instrument creaking just
faintly.  He paused for a mere heartbeat before releasing the string with a
twang, the arrow sailing in the air before stabbing next to Legolas’, a mere
hair’s breadth to the right of the notch.  A unified intake of breath was heard,
for none thus far had come so close to the prince’s arrow before.  The twin shot
another arrow a moment later, this one landing just a notch above his own, and
closer to the prince’s.  This they knew he had done to prove his first shot was
not some luck of the draw.

“Well done!” Arondil exclaimed, coming forward and clapping Elladan firmly on
the shoulder whilst the apprentices circled the princes and their guests. 
“Never have I see such a shot from another other than my brother.  You are
indeed a great marksmen Elladan.”

“Now I must say you are flattering me,” Elladan replied.  “Twas luck, nothing
more.  Legolas is still a better shot.”

“You humble yourself far too much, gwanur-nîn,” Elrohir said with a snort. 
“Come now, even Glorfindel cannot best you, and he taught you!  Sometimes I
believe you are far too modest for your own good.”

“I concur,” Legolas said.  “From my point of view, that was an excellent shot. 
But how are you at swordplay?”

“Do I hear yet another challenge?” Elladan asked, his brother’s devilish grin
now coming to him.  Legolas’ silvery voice broke out into peals of laughter, a
sound Elladan wished he could hear many more times.

“I do believe so,” the young prince replied.  “But not against me.  Nay, I am
good with the sword, but Celeron is better.  A trial against him would be far
more entertaining.  Do you not agree, Arondil?”

“Aye, this I would like to see,” the eldest replied.  “Celeron can be arrogant,
if I might say so.”

“You may not!” Celeron exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest with a huff. 
“I am merely an excellent swordsman, who has not discovered a worthy opponent
yet.  It is not my fault I have a naturally keen talent with the blade, one few
can compare to, much less overpower.”

“See?  Arrogance indeed.”  Arondil’s teasing words brought a pout to his
brother.  Such a childish action brought laughter to the group.

“Perhaps I may cut that arrogance down to size, so to speak,” Elladan said with
a bit of mirth in his voice.

“Ha!  We shall see!  Draw your sword!”  Celeron then proceeded to draw his own
blade, doing so with an elaborate flourish that sent another ring of laughter
through the group.  Obliging him, Elladan handed his bow and quiver to his
brother as he drew his own sword, the silver blade glittering in the light,
bringing out the golden vines etched along the sword’s length in sharp contrast. 
He allowed Celeron the first strike, parrying with ease before making one of his
own as the rest of the group settled themselves onto the forest floor or fallen
logs nearby, giving the opponents adequate space to duel within.  

Their exchange continued, a smile creeping across Celeron’s face as he noticed
he had indeed found a worthy opponent.  Elladan was aware of him and the swings
of his blade, but his attention was focused elsewhere.  He was more aware of a
pair of eyes trained to his back, the same pair he had felt on his person while
he set up his shot.  Knowing who they belonged to, Elladan could feel his
heartbeat quicken as he thought of Legolas watching him intently.  What was it
about the slightly younger elf that drew so much of Elladan’s attention?  Was it
his beautiful voice, or his equally beautiful face?  Elladan wasn’t sure, never
aware of the growing emotion blossoming within himself.

Likewise, Legolas was unaware of the same emotion flooding his chest, his
person.  He found himself gazing endlessly at the dark form sparring with his
brother.  His hands clenched and unclenched on his knees every time Elladan
narrowly avoided the swing of Celeron’s sword, always stepping aside at the last
moment.  The young prince unknowingly chewed the inside of his cheek as he
watched in anticipation, and a touch of apprehension, growing uneasy from his
seat on the fallen log.  He misread Elladan’s sudden stumble as a trip over an
unexpected root, but his left hand companion knew otherwise.  

Elrohir’s eyes were also trained on his brother, but he read something in his
movements that Legolas could not.  Elladan was slightly sluggish in his moves;
normally he was quick and rarely lost his footing.  The narrow misses had
worried Elrohir, since his brother usually avoided such blows long before the
other ever thought of making such a move.  He began to wonder whether or not his
twin was feeling well that day when he caught the sudden flicker of Elladan’s
eyes directly to his right.  He turned to the young prince seated next to him,
quickly noting the apprehensive state Legolas seemed to be in as he completely
ignored Elrohir‘s stare.  Realization suddenly dawned on the younger twin.  He
had noticed his brother becoming a little more absentminded each day since their
arrival in Mirkwood.  Only Elrohir would notice Elladan’s awkward silence when
his brother was normally lively and loved conversation.  He began to wonder. 
Might his brother be…?  But, if so, Elladan didn’t seem to realize it himself
yet.  And if he were, might Legolas also…?  It would seem so as he observed the
young prince.

Elrohir suddenly became aware of a pair of ocean-blue eyes peering at him over
Legolas’ head.  His gray gaze locked with Arondil’s, the other smiling at him,
unnoticed by his sibling.  It was a mischievous smile, one Elrohir knew quite
well.  So, someone else was suspecting the same as him.  His eyes twinkled,
bringing a nod from the other.  Wordlessly they agreed to let things run their
course, but when they got impatient then, and only then, would they intervene on
their respective brother’s behalf.

“Ha!”  The sudden shout brought both Elrohir and Arondil back to the present in
time to see Elladan clip Celeron with the flat of his blade on the other’s
backside as he stepped aside to avoid a blow.  With a yelp, the silver haired
prince fell unceremoniously onto the forest floor, spitting out dirt and leaves. 
His look of utter surprise and shock only sufficed to bring laughter to the
group around him.  Sheepishly, he accepted the hand Elladan offered and allowed
himself to be pulled to his feet.

“I have been bested this day,” Celeron said with a dramatic sigh and a flourish
of his hand.  “I have met my match.  Do with me as you will.  Have your way with
me as I am at your command.  But please, be gentle.”  His suddenly feminine act
brought more laughter and merriment to the group, so much so that it took some
time before they quieted down again.

“My brothers, it seems we have some real competition on our hands,” Arondil
said, rising from his seat, and clapping Elladan on the shoulder again.  “It
would appear that Imladrian elves are well-versed in the art of war craft, as
well as lore.  We have some fine warriors in our midst.”

“You flatter us with your words,” Elrohir said, the twinkle still in his eyes. 
“Today was merely a stroke of luck for Elladan to come so near to Legolas’ mark
and best Celeron at his own game.  Another day might prove otherwise.”

“Are you saying you won by mere luck?”  Elrohir grinned at Arondil’s challenging
tone, a silent understanding passing between the two.

“Nay, for I say on any other day we both would have bested you twice over.” 
Arondil laughed in response.

“And they call us arrogant.  So be it!  I invite you to accompany us each day as
we train the apprentices.  Perhaps we shall become friends, or maybe more.”

“I accept!”  Elladan stared in surprise at his brother and his eagerness to
accept the offer.  He knew his twin too well; Elrohir was planning something,
and Elladan got the funny feeling it revolved around him.  He turned to see
Legolas gaping at his own brother in a similar fashion.  It would seem the
youngest twin and the eldest prince were indeed cooking up something in their
minds.

/This stay,/ Elladan thought as the twins and princes turned their attentions to
schooling the patrol apprentices, /is turning out to be the best decision Ada
ever forced us into.  Can it get any better than this?/


Translations:
Meldir-Friend
Gwanur-nîn-My brother



Chapter 4: By the Twilight
Summary: The night is a mystical time in dark Mirkwood, as two new lovers will
soon discover.

Days, weeks, months passed in a near blur.  Autumn turned into winter, the cold
melting away into spring.  As midsummer approached, and preparations were made
for the moonlight festival Mirkwood held every year, the princes and princess of
the forest found themselves eagerly awaiting not only the much anticipated
festival, but the journey they would be undertaking just a few short months
later.  For it was nearly time for Elladan and Elrohir’s foster year to come to
a close; by early autumn, they would return to Imladris in the company of
Arondil and his siblings, who would then begin their year with the twins in the
valley.  Thranduil’s children had heard much about the Last Homely House, but
never expected to visit it--at least not for a while longer.  They eagerly spoke
amongst themselves, wondering what Imladris would be like, and if the elves were
anything like the twins.  They almost found themselves wishing they could leave
that day, but knew their presence was needed at the feast and for a bit longer
in Mirkwood.

Though the twins were looking forward to returning home, they felt a slight
sorrow fill their hearts at having to leave the woodland realm.  They had had
their shares of battles with Orcs and Wargs and other dark servants of the enemy
who dared enter the forest; these clashes were much anticipated at times, since
the twins rarely left the Greenwood during their stay.  They also had memories
of happier times, talking long into the night with the king and queen, who they
came to view as second parents.  They also found themselves tutoring the patrol
apprentices daily with the princes.  Other days were spent taking walks along
the streams with Nimriel, who eagerly asked them questions about Lorien,
Imladris and their sister, Arwen.

For Elladan, none of these other activities seemed to compare with the nightly
strolls he took along the vast halls of the king with Legolas.  The pair would
talk about anything and everything that came to their minds.  Though he always
felt his heart go aflutter when in the prince’s company, Elladan also found it
strangely alluring and comforting.  They talked with ease together, sometimes
embarrassing the other, laughter spreading through the corridors at their
companion’s expense.  They were unaware of the two shadows who often trailed
them, their number multiplying by two when Celeron and Nimriel had discovered
the same looks of longing in their eyes, just as Arondil and Elrohir had.

Circling the preparations being made for the night’s feast, Elladan discovered
that, deep down, he was grateful for his father’s insistence that he and his
twin foster a year in Mirkwood.  Thranduil had been nothing like what he had
expected.  He had steeled himself to meet a proud, haughty king who thought of
nothing but himself and his line.  Instead, he found someone willing to do
anything and everything for his family, even against his own wishes, something
Elladan knew his own father could relate to.  Thranduil was the type of king and
father who would swallow his own dislike for someone, or something, if his
children found approval.  Although there were times Elladan saw a flicker of
contempt in the king’s blue orbs when someone reminded Thranduil of the
Noldorion or human blood that the twins possessed, he composed himself quickly
and tried to remain pleasant.  For the king would never openly admit to anyone,
save his wife and children, that he had become quite fond of the twins during
their stay, as they had proved themselves pleasant company and experienced
warriors.  He had nearly adopted the Imladrian twins as his own, and was rather
saddened to see them go.

As Elladan walked, stopping now and then to talk to other elves, he was unaware
of a pair of sapphire eyes following him, the same blue orbs that always watched
him from afar, but seemed too shy away when he was near.  Legolas slyly lurked
in a corner, watching the twin in fascination, disregarding everything else that
was going on around him.  He felt a warmth filling him as he observed Elladan, a
warmth he always felt when watching the dark-haired elf, or when speaking to
him.  Curious, he had once asked his mother in passing what such a feeling would
mean; Erinien had simply smiled happily and announced that he would learn soon
enough; it was not her place to tell him if he could not discover his feelings
on his own.  Her evasive answer had annoyed Legolas in the last three weeks
since he spoke with her, and still he had not found an answer.  The truth be
told, he knew what he was feeling, but was afraid to voice it to himself.  But
the time come where Legolas could not rely on another to discover his feelings. 
He had to speak of them, and to Elladan.  He had to speak about them now.

Mounting the courage he needed, something he found terribly difficult to do
despite the many times he had rushed into a battle without thinking, the prince
steeled himself, forcing his hands not to tremble, as he walked into the hall
and towards the twin.  His steps were slow and deliberate, giving him time to
gather together his thoughts in a coherent manner.  It took several deep breaths
before Legolas could get his voice to work, without sounding anything but calm.

“Elladan?”  At the sound of his name, the twin pardoned himself from the maid he
had been speaking to and turned to the one behind him.  He was slightly
surprised to find himself facing Legolas; Elladan had to squelch the sudden flow
of excitement threatening to bubble over inside him.

“Yes, Legolas?”  Elladan marveled at the golden beauty he saw in Mirkwood’s
youngest prince, and not for the first time.  Again he felt his heart go
aflutter, and tried desperately to calm his nerves.  He had spent many a
sleepless night dreaming about the flaxen-haired prince now standing before him. 
Elladan had lost count of how many times he wished he could run fingers through
the golden hair, imagine the touch of the creamy-pale skin underneath his hands. 
Sometimes, as they went on their nightly walks, his hand would brush against his
companion’s, sending jolts up his arm and leaving a tingling sensation, after
which he would try to find any excuse to make accidental contact again.  Elladan
fought to keep his composure as Legolas began to speak.

“The feast isn’t due to be begin for another hour,” he said, hoping his voice
didn’t tremble as he thought it did.  “There is little we can do while the maids
prepare; we would only be getting in their way.  Would you care to accompany me
on a walk about the grounds?”  The twin merely nodded as the two left the hall,
the ends of their formal garments fluttering around them.  

As they made their way down the corridors and out into the night-filled forest,
Elladan caught himself glancing over at his companion more than once.  The
prince wore yet another silver tunic, one Elladan had seen him wear on many a
formal occasion; vines in a pale golden thread had been stitched expertly over
his shoulders and down his arms in graceful twists and arcs.  No belt adorned
his trim waist, as the tunic tapered to his fitted form.  Tapered sleeves flared
slightly from above the wrist to rest in lazy waves halfway down a slim hand. 
Moss-green leggings and brown leather boots completed the look; a soft moss
brown cloak fell from his shoulders in placed folds, held in place by a single
black leather belt.

“Elladan?”  The musical voice broke the Imladrian prince from his thoughts as he
raised his eyes to his companion‘s face.  He inclined his head briefly to
indicate that he was listening.  “Have you enjoyed your time here?”

“Very much so,” Elladan replied as the two weaved in and out through of beech
trees, the stars shining down on them from above.  With another sideways glance
he noticed Legolas’ hair was braided in the same fashion as usual, nothing
elaborate for the feast, the ends flowing over the prince‘s shoulders in
tumbling waves.  “Elrohir and I did not know what to expect when we first
arrived.  Indeed, we were reluctant to come in the first place.  I’m glad our
father insisted on our going.  Somehow, he knew we would enjoy it here.  I know
not how, but he knew, and I am glad for his persistence in the matter.”

“I’m glad.”  Elladan blinked at the sound of relief flooding into Legolas’
voice.  “In truth, I was a little apprehensive about you arriving as well.  My
brothers thought the idea was just when my father presented it to us; they felt,
as he did, that a strong alliance, which would come from a foster year.  My
sister was excited to see elves from outside the Greenwood, especially ones who
would be arriving from the valley.”

“And you?  You said you felt apprehensive.”  Legolas sighed deeply, nodding at
his companion’s keen observation, barely registering the brush of Elladan’s
velvety wine robe against his fingers.  “So?  How was it you felt when you
heard?”

“I did not know what to think in the beginning.  My father respects yours as a
lord, but doesn’t seem to really be attached to the Noldorion and human history
lord Elrond possesses.  It is no secret that my father has an extreme dislike
for the Kinslayers, and a slight bitterness for the death of my grandfather.  He
chose right in hoping to gain a peaceful alliance with Imladris, and he has done
well to hide any dislike of your bloodlines he may have.  I believe it is safe
to say that he rather adores you and Elrohir.”  Elladan couldn’t help but smile
at such a comment.  He was indeed pleased that he and his brother had been able
to win over the king of Mirkwood, as well as his wife and children.  Realizing
Legolas had not yet finished speaking, Elladan continued to listen, keeping his
thoughts quiet for a moment longer.  “Even knowing this, I was still a little
apprehensive about your arrival, mostly because I knew not what kind of people I
would be dealing with.  And I would be dealing with such people on a daily basis
for a year; nay, two years once my foster year began.  But, yes…it all melted
away after a few days.”

“Then you…”  He cocked an eyebrow, waiting in anticipation for the prince’s
answer.

“Enjoyed your company?  Very much so.”  The prince smiled, bringing a warm
feeling to Elladan’s core with the simple act.  “You and Elrohir are a pair of
caring, understanding people.  You must be, for what you go through to avenge
your mother, as I have heard.  You must have loved her very much.  I have never
met Lord Elrond, but it seems to me from all the stories that I hear that you
resemble him greatly.”

“Many others have told us so as well.  Elrohir and I tend to deny it.  We are
not as old and bookish as our father, nor indeed do we ever wish to be.” 
Legolas let out a soft snort of laughter at Elladan’s paternal teasing.

“I know the feeling well, for many have been kind enough to point out the
similarities between my father and myself.”  Elladan grinned at the sigh of
annoyance Legolas unwillingly let out.  

The pair stopped beneath a beech tree, turning to gaze at one another.  Legolas
marveled at how the moonlight played over Elladan’s wine and silver-gray robes,
the garments draped from the twin‘s long limbs in lush waves and folds.  His
dark hair had been twisted expertly in places; a clasp of beaten mithril held
most of the tresses out of his eyes and face.  He was unadorned with jewelry,
but proudly wore the colors of his father’s realm; he and his twin would be a
sharp contrast from the many Mirkwood elves that would be in attendance. 
Legolas found the dark beauty before him breathtaking, feeling his heart
quickening a pace or two.  Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached up, first
twirling slender fingers into a twist of silky dark hair laying over a shoulder,
before moving his hand further up to cup a warm cheek.  He was ever aware of
Elladan’s eyes fixed on him, though he didn‘t return the gaze just yet.  

“What is it about you, Elladan?” the prince asked in a hushed whisper, as if
afraid to break the peace of the moment, moving to look into the gray eyes
focused only on his person.  “Why is it that when I’m with you the rest of the
world can drop away, and I wouldn’t care?  For once in my life I feel like I’m
being hunted, and yet I don’t mind or care in the least.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”  The dark elf pressed his cheek further into
the warmth encircling it, bringing his own hand up to cover the other’s.  “I am
vulnerable around you, when I have never been so in my life since I was born.  I
look into your eyes and drown in them, even in my sleep.  Days and nights are
filled with thoughts of you.”

“Mine as well.”  The prince blinked in confusion as Elladan’s eyebrows shot up
in wonder, a bit of teasing hidden in their cloudy depths.

“You think of yourself all the time?  How very vain of you, my dear Mirkwood
prince.”  Legolas felt himself coloring at the jest, wrenching his hand
playfully away from Elladan’s in a mock attempt at throttling the other. 
Elladan grinned, catching his wrist in an equally playful manner before the two
leaned against one another in fits of laughter.  

Moments passed before they calmed, listening to the steady rhythm of the other’s
breathing as their own returned to normal.  Lifting his head, Legolas looked
into the dark elf’s gray eyes, feeling his own slip closed as Elladan leaned
forward, pressing their lips together in a light caress.  He pulled away, only
to come forward again, the kiss deepening.  Slender arms encircled his neck as
his own wrapped firmly about the trim waist.  Lips touched and parted, allowing
exploring tongues to play and wrestle with each other in an enticing dance for
what seemed like an eternity.  The need for air forced the pair slowly apart,
their breathing again returning to normal as they gazed at one another with
heavy-lidded, and star-filled eyes.

“How long?” Legolas asked, breaking the silence that had began to settle in. 
Elladan considered his question for a moment before answering, his palm drawing
warm circles on the prince’s lower back as the golden head rested against his
shoulder.

“Since the day I met you, I believe,” he replied, his voice low but the words
spoken near the prince’s  almond ear, tongue darting out to flick against a
lobe.  “You were the first thing I saw when I rode up to your family.  It’s you
I always look at during meals, you I always watch when tutoring the patrol
apprentices, you I always think about when going to sleep each night.”

“I think of you as well, and nothing else.  I find myself distracted because of
you.  Do you realize I almost walked into a wall yesterday because I was
watching while you rode through the trees?  I have not walked into a wall since
I was knee-high.  My father was almost appalled when he heard of the incident!” 
He playfully batted at his new lover when Elladan let out a laugh of amusement
at such a revelation.  “The things you do to me!”

“And you to me, ernil-nîn.”  The dark elf leaned in for another love-filled
kiss.  Legolas smiled against him, relishing in the feel of their lips touching,
their bodies brushing together, causing jolts of excitement to race through them
both.  He wanted this moment to go on forever, but someone else had another
plan.  

Their moment was interrupted by a voice sounding into the darkening forest as a
maid called for Legolas.  The feast was about to begin.  Reluctantly, the two
pulled apart, a touch of regret in both of their eyes.

“I’ll go first,” the prince said, slowly stepping away from the twin before
straightening his clothing.  Legolas began to head to the house; Elladan
lingered behind a moment.  A silent promise passed through them as Legolas
stepped into the doorway and turned for one last look, a promise to meet again
as soon as the feast was over.  

/This dinner is going to be too long/, Elladan thought as he too headed for the
house with a long sigh.


Translations:
Ernil-nîn-My prince




Chapter 5: A Moment Together
Summary: Stealing stealthily away from the feast, Elladan and Legolas steal some
time for themselves and get to know one another a little bit better.

Elladan had been right, it was a long feast.  At least it had been for him, and
probably for Legolas, as well judging by the half-hidden, bored expressions he
caught on the prince‘s face when he chanced to glance over.  Throughout the
evening, Elladan had found himself dragged from one conversation into another,
all of which he found terribly boring when normally he wouldn’t.  The elder twin
also ended up avoiding as many dances as possible, passing partners off to his
brother, who didn’t seem to mind as much as Elladan thought he would.  In fact,
it seemed to Elladan, Elrohir accepted his rejected partners with grace,
occasionally throwing his brother a knowing, thoughtful look.  Elladan began to
wonder if Elrohir knew how he felt about Legolas, and why he wasn’t acting
himself that night.  He shook his head; his twin knew a great deal about him,
but he couldn’t possibly know about that.

As the feast came to a close, and guests were taking their leave of the king and
queen’s hospitality, the royal family retired one by one.  Elladan made his
apologies, excusing himself as being tired from the day’s events and the feast. 
Elrohir watched him go, flashing a look and grin in Arondil’s direction as
Legolas also bade good night to his parents a few moments later.  Snickering was
heard behind the younger twin and he turned, finding Celeron and Nimriel
observing Legolas’ exit.  The four elves smiled knowingly at one another before
also taking their polite leave from the feast.

It took all of Legolas’ willpower not to race down the corridors and to
Elladan’s chamber at the end of the guests’ hall.  Normally, he found the
moonlight festival pleasant, and looked forward to the feast that was held. 
But, tonight, other thoughts were on his mind, specifically on a certain
Peredhel twin.  Time and time again Legolas found himself having to drag his
attentions away from Elladan and back to whatever conversation or dance he was
currently engaged in.  Now that it was all over, he found, much to his dismay,
that he could not yet relax until he was behind closed doors, lest he raise
suspicions he was not yet ready to face.  Legolas forced himself to walk slowly
and discretely down the halls, avoiding as many people as possible on his way.

Finally, in far too long of a time period, the prince found himself facing the
intricately carved oak door, behind which were Elladan’s quarters during his
stay in Mirkwood.  He took a breath, calming his nerves before knocking, and
entered at the slightest sound he heard.  As he turned to shut the door, he felt
a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders and waist, drawing him back against a
warm body.  Closing his eyes, Legolas breathed in the scent of pine and damp air
that Elladan always seemed to be surrounded in, leaning his head back against a
shoulder as a pair of lips gently caressed his neck.

“I thought that feast was never going to end,” Elladan’s voice whispered into
his ear, before Legolas felt himself being turned, gray eyes gazing lovingly
down at him.  He smiled warmly, raising his arms to encircle his new lover’s
neck.

“My thoughts exactly.  It lasted far too long for me, though I never seemed to
mind before.”

“Oh?  And why is that, dear prince?”

“Because I was looking forward to certain…activities that were to be performed
after the feast.”  Elladan let out a soft chuckle as he began to steer the two
of them towards the bed.  He stood with one knee on the bed above Legolas, as
the prince took a seat on the soft straw mattress.

“You don’t think we left in too much of a hurry, do you?” the dark twin asked
near the pointed ear, tongue darting out momentarily to glide against a tip.  A
shudder raced through Legolas’ frame at the warm, wet touch, craving more of it
on other regions of his person.

“If we did, then we can let the others wonder as to why.”

“I like your way of thinking, ernil-nîn.”  Legolas simply smiled in return,
tugging Elladan down to sit next to him as they both leaned in for another deep
kiss.  Slipping his tongue within the dark recesses of the prince’s mouth,
Elladan wrestled with his lover’s, eliciting small gasps and moans from his
prince.  His hands were busy unbraiding the golden hair, freeing it from its
bonds; slender hands also moved in his dark locks, undoing the twists and
releasing the clasp.  Hands dived in, fingers twining around strands as each
marveled at the other’s silky downiness.  The need for air became apparent as
their chests began to feel tight.  Reluctantly they pulled apart, cloudy, dark
eyes holding the other’s gaze as cheeks stained a faint pink.

The gaze lasted a moment longer before Elladan smiled, steering the golden
prince so that he was lying down on his back in the center of the bed with the
dark twin kneeling over him.  Half-lidded eyes watched intently as Elladan
worked at his clothes, first divesting Legolas of his cloak before working on
the intricate fastenings of his tunic.  The whole while the twin kept his mouth
busy, planting soft kisses and nips along the side of his lover’s neck, biting
down softly at Legolas’ pulse point and bringing out a groan of pleasure from
the silvery voice.  Finally, when the tunic fell open, warm hands weaved their
way over pale skin; the sensations racing over the prince’s skin caused him to
arch up into the touch, bringing a smile to Elladan’s face.

“Are we enjoying this?” he asked, the grin never leaving his face as his lips
brushed against quivering skin.

“You are such a tease, melethron-nîn.”  Legolas’ voice was barely above a
whisper, quivering with the desire building up within him.  Elladan smiled
wider, continuing his ministrations as he felt slender hands working to unfasten
his own robes before mirroring the movement of his hands.  He moaned at the
faint brush of fingers on his heated flesh, stopping his own movements to savor
the jolts of energy racing up his spine, sending small stars dancing in his
eyes.  Feeling a nuzzle on the side of his head, Elladan placed his lips over
Legolas’ once again as arms were slipped out of sleeves before tunic and robe
were cast aside.  Feverish hands moved to rid the other’s body of suddenly too
tight leggings.  Once completely free of any article of clothing, Elladan
allowed his body to lower onto that of the prince, both letting out a gasp as
their skins touched and created delicious friction.

“Ve' ôl,” Elladan murmured, his tongue flicking out over a leaf shaped tip.

“Alôl,” Legolas whispered back, lips brushing the spot behind Elladan’s ear,
delighting in the moan the action brought forth.  “Hae'ôl, ithil-nîn.”  Burying
his hands in locks of the richest dark browns, Legolas marveled at the beauty in
his lover he had only seen before in the face of the moon.  Elladan was the
presence that gave light to the dark; Legolas was the one bearing light for the
day.

“Uma, naa'l ôl, anor-nin, anor-nin. Naa menel.”  The sun smiled against the moon
as they came together for another desire-filled kiss, lips bruising in the
contact, but neither minding.  Elladan broke away far too soon for Legolas’
liking, using his lips to explode the planes of the archer’s chest whilst hands
busily stroked against any skin they could find.  Legolas could do nothing but
surrender to the kisses and caresses, hands buried deep into raven tresses,
fingers twirling and stroking the soft locks.  He could feel his lover’s tongue
working to map his torso and abdomen, gasps leaving his lips as he felt suddenly
sensitive patches of flesh being touched with the briefest of strokes.  He
writhed beneath his love, silently imploring him not to be so torturous.

Elladan took his time, delighted at the feel of creamy skin under his hands and
the sounds coming from his lover, like music he played with natural talent.  He
kissed the taut muscles of Legolas’ abdomen before moving lover.  Lifting his
head, he gazed into the prince’s face, the ends of his hair tickling Legolas’
stomach whilst his hands gently stroked the skin of his lover’s inner thighs to
calm him.  A faint wisp of a smile spread across the Greenleaf’s face as the
sudden absence of touch.

“Metho nin, melethron.”

“Úsi, nan' thentenn.”  He felt rather than saw the other’s body writhe in
impatience before he claimed his lover in his mouth.  Legolas bit down a scream,
and his hands, having left Elladan’s hair, knotted themselves in the sheets as
he arched upwards in an effort to bury himself further into the hot cavern
surrounding him.  Firm hands on his hips held him down as soothing fingers drew
small circles on the skin in an attempt to calm the prince.  But Legolas was far
from calm as he felt Elladan began to suck on the shaft, his tongue scraping
along the skin of the heated column, sending stars into his lover’s eyes.  A low
groan sounded from the depths of the prince’s throat as Elladan pulled away,
teeth nipping playfully at the tip before engulfing his love once again.  He
repeated the action a handful of times, the tip of his tongue lapping at the
pre-cum pearling at his lover’s slit.

“I can’t stand it,” Legolas gasped out.

“Then let go, ernil-nîn,” Elladan soothed before taking him in again.  The
pressure of the building sensations and the feel of the twin swallowing his
erection yet again caused Legolas to release into the other‘s mouth, his back
lifting off the bed before tumbling down again as his passion died down in
rolling waves.  Closing his eyes, Legolas steadied his breathing, feeling the
cool forest breeze brushing over his skin through a window he hadn‘t realized
was open.  

Elladan released him, swallowing the last of the creamy seed before sliding
himself upwards over the lithe pale body.  The golden hair spilled out like a
halo on the pillows around the lean face, eyes closed and face aglow as his
passion ebbed.  Heavy-lidded sapphire eyes opened again as gentle fingers traced
a cheekbone, a warm smile greeting Elladan, one which he returned before kissing
the soft lips before him.  Legolas could taste the saltiness of his seed on his
love’s lips and in his mouth as he sucked lightly on the tongue that sparred
with his own.  Mischievously, he grinned into the kiss, one hand sliding down to
wrap long fingers around Elladan’s ever present hard-on.  He delighted in the
surprised gasp he heard and felt as he gently pumped the organ.

“Daro ungwal nin ,” Elladan pleaded as his body spasmed in the pulsating touch
his lover provided.

“Pân naa fael i n'alatelien, melethron-nîn,” the prince cooed before taking a
delicate earlobe between his lips and sucking.

“Far n'alatelien.”  Musical laughter left the golden one beneath him.

“Im nowe lin aloio athonaya.”  Elladan merely smirked, leaning into for another
bruising kiss before reaching for something on the nightstand next to the bed. 
A pop was heard, followed by the sounds of the twin fumbling with something
while never breaking the kiss.  Legolas squirmed underneath his moon, impatient
for his lover’s touch.  And then it was there, slick fingers moving from his
hip, lazily over to his thigh, before pressing at his entrance.  He moaned into
the twin’s mouth as a finger pushed in; the slight discomfort caused him to
release Elladan’s lips, a sharp intake of breath passing through his own bruised
pair.  He stopped moving for a moment, adjusting to the intrusion.  The prince
hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he opened them to find himself gazing
into a pair of concerned, loving gray orbs.  Smiling as the pain subsided,
Legolas wiggled his hips a bit as he began to feel pleasure from the digit
within him.

“Saes, melethron-nîn,” he whispered, kissing his lover’s lips to reassure him
and ask him to continue.  It was enough for Elladan as he smiled, leaning
forward to slowly kiss the creamy column of neck before him whilst preparing his
precious one further.  Twisting his finger ever so slightly, he gently urged the
tight ring of muscle to open and allow another digit to accompany the first.  In
the process, he brushed against something only to cause Legolas to writhe and
groan more.  Concern filled him again as Elladan lay motionless on top of his
prince for fear of hurting him again.  Frustration from the sudden cessation of
movement crept into the lithe body, but Legolas forced it down again as he fixed
his gaze onto his lover, immediately understanding the concern written there.

“Saes, údaro,” he pleaded, reassuring Elladan with another brief kiss.  Another
smile, this one of relief, passed over the dark elf.

“Im údaro.”  And he didn’t as he once again worked to prepare his lover, this
time in a gentler fashion than was necessary, but all the more cautiously.  He
took his time, slowly scissoring the flesh until Elladan felt all was ready. 
Quickly, he coated his own erection with the remainder of the oil on his hand
before rising on his heels a little, hands loosely grasping Legolas’ hips.  His
golden lover gave him a nod and another smile, one that reassured him and stated
his readiness.  Leaning in for another kiss, Elladan lifted those slim hips off
the bed just the barest amount before slowly pressing into his lover, feeling
himself begin swallowed by heat unimaginable.  Once fully sheathed inside his
prince, he paused, allowing both of them time to adjust to their new connection. 
Only when Elladan had decided the moan he heard coming from the fair one beneath
him was from pleasure and not pain did he begin to set up a rhythm.  

Slow and steadily, he pulled himself out until he had almost left his prince all
together.  Just as slowly, Elladan pushed back in again, relishing in the feel
of the searing heat enveloping him and the tight ring of muscle surrounding his
base.  Twice more he pulled out and pushed back in, his second thrust brushing
against the secret spot just as his fingers had done, eliciting a strangled moan
of pleasure from his lover.  Even the half-swallowed, half-voiced sound felt
like music to his ears; smiling he thrust in again, the moans growing louder
each time he touched that hidden gland.  The dark twin quickened his pace as one
hand slid over a hip to grasp at Legolas’ weeping erection, stroking the slit
with his thumb while fingers and palm began to pump the column.

The sensation of being doubly connected was mind blowing to the prince.  Craving
more of his lover’s touch, Legolas arched his back, feeling himself nearing his
edge.  He willed himself to hold back for just a moment longer to savor the
warmth, the loving touches.  But Elladan’s steady rhythm was ever quickening,
pushing him nearer and nearer to orgasm.  With a strangled cry he came again for
the second time that night, creamy seed spilling forth in rivulets over his
lover’s hand.  At the sound of his voice and the tightening around his cock,
Elladan gritted his teeth as he too felt himself coming, releasing himself deep
within his lover.  Exhausted but satiated, he fell forward, his warm body
covering the one below him.  

Chests rose and fell against one another, breathing returning to normal as stars
cleared away from behind closed eyes.  Coming back to his senses, Elladan opened
heavy-lidded eyes.  Wearily he reached over for a cloth lying on the nightstand
for unknown purposes, using it to clean himself and Legolas of the prince’s
seed.  Tossing the used rag away, he withdrew from his prince, a bit
reluctantly, to pull sheets over him.  With a sleepy smile on his face, Legolas
shifted closer, snuggling against Elladan’s warm body and burying his face
amidst the smooth skin of the twin’s neck and silky waves of his raven hair. 
Swallowing a yawn, Elladan encircled his arms around his love’s back, rubbing
small circles on the skin through the sheets as both drifted off into a
contented sleep, secure with the other and knowing they were loved.


Translations:
Ve' ôl-Like a dream
Alôl-Not a dream
Uma, naa'l ôl, anor-nin, anor-nin. Naa menel-Aye, tis not a dream, my sun.  Tis
heaven.
Metho nin, melethron-Finish me, lover
Úsi, nan' thentenn-Not yet, but soon
Daro ungwal nin-Stop torturing me
Pân naa fael i n'alatelien-All’s fair in foreplay, my lover
Far n'alatelien-Enough foreplay
Im nowe lin aloio athonaya-I thought you’d never offer
Saes, melethron-nîn-Please, my lover
Saes, údaro-Please, don’t stop
Im údaro-Then I won’t




Chapter 6: Traveling to Lil’ Bree
Summary: The year in Mirkwood is up; the children of Thranduil prepare to leave
with the Peredhel twins to spend their allotted time in Imladris.  But first, a
detour to the town of Lil’ Bree to see what humans can really be like.

The mid-autumn day was pleasant and warm.  The sun beat down comfortably onto
the backs of six travelers.  They rode together down the last leg of the Misty
Mountains in merriment, their musical voices filling the air as they laughed and
talked with one another.  To someone observing them from afar, they seemed to
appear to be warriors traveling in company, six men either heading out to a hunt
or coming back from one.  In actuality they were five elven princes and one
elven princess, disguised as a male warrior to keep her safe from prying eyes. 
Rather than journeying to a hunt, they were moving from one elven haven to
another, but their path veered slightly away from their final destination,
heading towards a small human town instead.

It was Nimriel’s insistence that had prompted the group to make a slight detour. 
The young princess wanted to see what men were really like having encountered
few outside of the sparse villages that dotted Mirkwood’s borders.  Her
brothers, who had had more encounters than she, and even the twins, had tried to
convince her that it was probably not the best of ideas for a whole elven escort
to simply enter a human village and wish to stay for the night.  To their
surprise and dismay the princess had agreed, saying they would travel without an
escort and she would willingly disguise herself as a male warrior to keep her
identity and gender safe.  Much to their loathing, especially that of the twins,
Thranduil and Erinien had agreed, stating that it would be good for the princess
to know and learn more about the world outside of the Greenwood.  Their only
condition in the matter had been that the town needed to be one close to either
Mirkwood or Imladris so that, if need be, they could take off in a hurry to an
elven shelter.  The five princes had no choice but to agree, and promise to keep
Nimriel safe from harm.

So it was that the group found themselves steadily approaching Lil’ Bree, so
named because it looked and felt like a smaller replica of the town on the
borders of the Shire.  The place had had its own name once, but travelers and
its inhabitants alike kept calling it Lil’ Bree; pretty soon, its original name
was forgotten.  It was a place inhabited mostly by men and dwarves; it was too
far for hobbits to visit, and few elves ventured into the city, though Imladris
was less than a day’s ride away.  The town saw little adventure, its inhabitants
mostly farmers, shopkeepers and miners.  News of the outside world didn’t seem
to concern the inhabitants, as they often felt no need to know what the other
parts of Middle-earth were up to.  Rangers passed through now and then though
they often were not given a warm welcome; it mattered little to the Dunedain,
for they tarried only a short while in the town before moving on towards other
places and destinations.  Other than that, Lil Bree rarely received any
strangers from other lands or races.  Today, however, would break such ideals.  

Nimriel squirmed in her saddle, fighting the urge to push her mare into a canter
and into the town.  It was difficult for her to keep still and calm during the
ride.  She was, after all, supposed to be disguised as a warrior; she was well
versed in the usage of the bow and knew a little about the sword, able to help
her brothers and the twins in the event that a fight should break out.  Nimriel
indeed looked the part of a warrior.  But she held nothing of the poise and
composure a proud, weathered elven bowman or swordsman possessed.  Instead
Nimriel was a princess, a lady, and, above all else, a girl filled with
curiosity about something she had never laid eyes on.  All she really wanted to
do was take off, leaving her brothers and the twins behind and go explore the
town that seemed to beckon to her.  

Nimriel scowled faintly as her eldest brother reached over, drawing the hood of
her cloak over her ears and warrior-braided hair.

“Best to hide as much of our features as we can,” Arondil said calmly, pulling
his own hood over his head as the others followed suit.

“Aye, tis true,” Elladan agreed, turning slightly in his seat to face them, face
partially shadowed by his cloak.  “I know not how the men and dwarves of Lil’
Bree will react to seeing a small troupe of elves venture into their town. 
Imladrian elves seldom come here, and in disguise when they do, lingering
little.”

“There are dwarves in the village?” Legolas asked, his eyes lifting in slight
amazement at the news.  His siblings seemed equally amazed as they turned to the
twins for an explanation.

“Aye,” Elrohir answered.  “The dwarves of Lil’ Bree care nothing for the grudge
between elves and their kind, however.  They mine by day and drink by night and
make merry whenever they can.  ‘Tis likely that these dwarves have never heard
of elves, if so then only in tales.”  Celeron snorted in amusement.

“Then it is likely that if we are somehow discovered, Elbereth forbid, we will
be revered as beings thought long lost.”

“Or chased out of the village,” Elladan countered.  “Either way, this will be an
interesting stay.”

“Far better than staying on the ground another night,” the princess said.  “I am
weary from the journey.  Though I will enjoy this adventure, I find myself
wishing to be in the halls your father is so famous for founding.  Yet Imladris
is another half day’s travel, and Arien is beginning to sink.”

“Aye, I agree,” Elrohir said.  “Setting aside what may happen, we’ll find
comfort indoors tonight in Lil’ Bree.  ‘Tis well we all speak Westron else we
draw more unwanted attention.  Our appearance, even hidden, draws the attention
of far too many eyes already.”  The others agreed, their steeds now beginning to
enter the streets of the town.  They seemed, at first glance, no different than
the other men and women going about their business in the busy little town. 
But, as they rode down the main street, eyes turned to them and lingered for
longer than the elves would have liked.  Despite their worn clothing, their more
regal garments hidden among their possessions, and weathered looks, the six
companions seemed to stand out from the rest of the town as if they had walked
in with a procession behind them, glittering in gold and mithril.

At Elladan’s gesture, the riders headed to a tavern in the middle of the town
just as the owner stepped out.  Bowman Butterbur was the owner of the Trotting
Stallion; he was also the cousin of Barliman Butterbur, who operated the
Prancing Pony in Bree.  He was portly, yet cheerful and kind, not to mention a
bit forgetful at times, much like his cousin.  Though his was far from the only
tavern, even in such a small town, it was one that tended, unknowingly, to draw
the most unusual of visitors.  His warm smile behind a brushy mustache and
stained apron made old friends and new customers feel right at home.

“Good day, young warriors!” he greeted in a cheerful voice, his mustache
twitching faintly with his words.  His dark eyes widened in amazement at his new
guests but he kept his voice pleasant and warm.  “Have a good hunt?”

“Yes indeed,” Elrohir replied, dismounting as the others followed suit.  “And
now we are in need of a night’s rest, for both ourselves and our horses.  Can
you accommodate us?”

“You are in luck, my young friends.”  Bowman seemed not to take notice of the
slight twitching of lips that occurred when he referred to them as ‘young.’  As
he spoke, he seemed a little preoccupied with the fact his new customers, even
the princess, stood almost half a head taller than he.  “I have in fact two
rooms available that might suit your fancy, nice big and cozy rooms.”

“That is one less than we were hoping for, but it is acceptable,” Arondil
replied, handing the man the reins to his steed.  “Kindly see to our horses, and
that our things are taken straight to the rooms, kind sir.  We shall return
shortly for the night’s supper.”

“I shall be awaiting your return with a hot meal and ale aplenty.”  Bowman
watched as the six slung bows and quivers to their backs, strapping knives in
their boots and swords to their hips.  As they journeyed down the main road, he
couldn’t help but wonder that there was something distinctly different about the
group.  Shrugging it off, he led their steeds into his large stable, the
majestic beasts seeming less weary than the other horses already in holds,
despite the long journey.  Bowman then took their things, remarkably light
contrary to their size, up to the designated rooms before preparing for the
evening meal.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The town seems lively enough for one so small,” Celeron said in Westron as the
group roamed the streets, killing time before returning to the tavern for the
evening meal.  The elves spoke in the common tongue so as not to draw more
unwanted attention to themselves; occasionally, they would speak in low whispers
in elvish that only their keen ears could hear.

“It is fascinating!” Nimriel nearly exclaimed before lowering her voice at the
slightly reproachful look her brothers gave her.  “It is nothing like the
villages on our borders.  They were always small, mostly just a few families and
homes.  But this is different.  Are all human towns and cities like this?” 
Arondil laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Calm yourself, sister,” he said in a calm voice.  “Yes, they are all like this,
and no, they are all different.”

“Aye,” Elladan agreed.  “Most towns of Rohan are much the same as the villages
you have seen, maybe just a little bigger.  But the cities of Gondor are said to
be large and majestic with colorful banners waving from high white towers and
twisting streets between buildings.  In the north there are few cities, but they
differ little from Lil’ Bree.  I have not seen the towns of the fabled Shire,
nor the little people that inhabit it, but they are told to be a cheery place.”

“How I would love to visit the Shire,” Nimriel said.  “But it is too far to
travel.”

“I am afraid that, even if we were to make it that far,” Legolas interrupted her
musings, “we might startle the little people.  I doubt they have ever seen men
and dwarves, much less elves.”

“Aye, ‘tis true,” Elrohir agreed with a nod.  “The stories told tell us that the
Halflings are cautious of men, whom they refer to as the big folk.  None know
much about dwarves, and even less of our kin.  It is not far from truth to say
that if we were to stroll into the Shire, we would scare the Halflings witless
with our presence.  They would tell stories of such an encounter for years and
generations to come.”  The group stopped walking as a dozen children, all much
shorter in stature than the elves, ran across their path, disappearing around a
corner only to poke their heads out a moment later to gape at the strangers in
awe.

“It never ceases to amaze me how human children and elflings can be so
different,” Arondil said, smiling at the wide-eyed children who ducked away from
his gaze before appearing again.  “They mature quickly, reaching their majority
much earlier than we.  I remember Ada not being able to cease calling me elfling
until I had reached my one-hundredth year.”

“Aye, I remember that as well,” Legolas said.  “Even after majority, he still
referred to us as if we were children for a while longer.  It would annoy me to
no end at times.”

“And yet a human life is so fragile,” Elladan mused.  “We feel no cold, no heat,
little pain and little fear.  Yet they feel it all heavily, and reach the end of
their mortality quickly.  ‘Tis a sad idea to ponder.”  He smiled wistfully as he
felt a hand grasp his own, a flash of gold and sapphire from the corner of his
eye confirming Legolas’ presence.  The elves continued on down the street in
silence for a few moments, always aware of the curious children who followed in
their steps.

“It is getting late,” Arondil announced.  “Did you find this excursion to your
liking, gwathel-nîn?” 

“Very much so,” Nimriel replied.  “Yet I feel the need for rest, for now I am
anxious to arrive in Imladris tomorrow.  The valley intrigues me, as we will be
staying there a full year.  I almost wish we could ride there tonight.”

“The paths and forests are not safe at night, as we all well know,” Legolas
pointed out as the group steered back towards the Trotting Stallion, their
shadows still following, much to their amusement.  “Though I do not know about
the rest of you, I would not want to spend tonight worrying about Orcs, Wargs or
Easterlings attacking us during our sleep.  We have spent plenty a night
worrying about such things already on this trip.”

“Aye, and father does not expect us until midday tomorrow,” Elladan said.  “He
will be ill prepared to receive us, especially in the middle of the night.  We
should rest and refresh ourselves in the meanwhile.”  The others nodded as they
entered the already bustling tavern.  The door shut behind them with a faint
thud, leaving the children outside and away from the smoky and ale-filled place.  

Undaunted, the dozen little ones made their way to a nearby window and packed
themselves around it.  The fair strangers had grasped their attention on the
street, though the children knew not why.  As they lingered at the window, the
elder ones holding up their younger counterparts, they kept their attentions
focused on the six riders who seated themselves in a dark corner away from the
rest of the tavern.  They were hoping for a show, and would not leave until they
got what they wanted.

Translations:
Gwathul-nîn-My sister
Ada-Father




Chapter 7: Hellacious Encounter
Summary: The short stay in Lil’ Bree proves interesting and a bit troublesome
for the young elven princes and princess, especially since the mannish town has
not seen elves in quite some time.

A faint hush fell over the already crowded tavern as the six new arrivals
entered and took a table in a darkened corner.  Though it was still early
evening, the Trotting Stallion was already filled to almost full capacity as men
and dwarves returned from their daily comings and goings to enjoy a hot meal and
fine ale and mead at their favorite gathering spot in Lil Bree.  All their
attentions were turned from their plates and conversations upon the entrance of
the arrivals, eyes fixing on the figures for a moment longer before turning back
to begin new talks.  The cloaked elves said nothing until Bowman arrived at
their side.

“What can I get you this fine evening, my young friends?”  The princes and
princess turned to one another, silent conversation passing between them as
their eyes met.  Their intense gray, blue and green gazes from underneath dark
gray cloaks made the tavern owner a little uneasy as he waited for their answer. 
After a moment’s time, that seemed much longer to Bowman, Arondil spoke from the
owner’s elbow.

“Bread, cheese, any fruits you may have and wine, kind sir,” the prince said,
lifting his eyes to Bowman momentarily.

“Will that be all you gentlemen will be wanting?”  A simple nod was his answer. 
“Would you be preferring some ale, or perhaps mead rather than wine, friends?”

“Nay, wine will do,” Elladan replied, eliciting a nod from Bowman who moved off
quickly to fill their order before attending to other guests, leaving the elves
to observe the room around them in silence.

“They are…different from those I have seen in the wood,” Nimriel commented as
her gaze fell from one dwarf to a second and then upon the man they were
conversing with.  All three were dressed in rough brown clothing, their faces
dirty and dusty, but they laughed heartily as they drank from tall tankards.  “I
would not fancy myself as being an expert on the company of men, as I have seen
and interacted with few.  But it is to my current observation that the men of
this town seem far from the hard working village people of Mirkwood.”

“Aye, they are,” Legolas agreed.  “I liken that they are also different from the
Dunedain.  The Edain of the North are rather gruff and weather worn, but these
men and dwarves place a new perspective on them.  But appearances can be
deceiving, gwathul-nîn.  The men, and even dwarves, that you see before you
might in fact be as hard working as the men of the wood, but at the present
moment they are forgetting their cares and enjoying their time.”

“I agree with Legolas,” Elrohir said, his voice dying as Bowman returned,
balancing trays piled with the food and wine they had ordered.  Smiling warmly,
the tavern owner laid out the plates and cups before his guests before bidding
them an enjoyable meal and leaving them to their own devices.

As they ate, the elves kept their conversation between themselves and in
whispered tones.  Speaking in Sindarian, in voices that could only reach their
own keen ears, they spoke of Imladris; the children of Mirkwood questioned the
twins further on the valley dwelling.  Elladan and Elrohir spoke with relish
about their home and visits to Lorien, promising the others tours and
introductions.  Now and then they found themselves having to switch to speaking
in words of Westron when their elvish senses alerted them to prying eyes and
ears.  This town fascinated them, though it was far from any of their
expectations upon arrival; they were not inclined to reveal who they truly were
until they left in the morning, if at all.  Conversations around them went on as
normal, almost as if the strangers were nothing unusual to Lil Bree.  Almost.

Very rarely has an elf become so intoxicated through the vintages that he or she
could not remember what they did or said once they woke up with a hangover. 
Most knew when to stop themselves from becoming too drunk.  Nonetheless, elven
wine was not so much potent as it was sweet in taste, agreeable to the palate
for even those who preferred something without a sugary taste.  The bitterly
strong taste of mead and ale, even human wine, was often too much for elves. 
But the princes and princess were accustomed to such potables having associated
with men previously.  Unfortunately, some of the men in the Trotting Stallion
were not, though one would think that they would have some inhibitions since
they drank in the tavern so often.

A heavy hand suddenly rested itself on Nimriel’s shoulder, startling the
princess just slightly from her conversation with Elrohir.  Turning, green eyes
gazed up past the elven cloak and into the stern, slightly red-tinted face of a
rough man.  He was as tall as she, but much broader in shoulder and limbs than
her brothers, even more so than the twins.  Coarse, dark brown hair covered his
chin, as long, oily strands fell from his scalp to brush his shoulders.  His
tunic was as rough and coarse as his hair, sleeveless and fitting him snugly
across the chest; his clothes seemed to be of a brown color, but whether that
was the fabric’s natural color or due to layers of dirt was unknown.  The smell
of his breath flowing from him alerted the elves quickly to his intoxication.

“Well well, look at what have we here?” the man said, his voice gruff and hard
with just the barest hint of a slur despite his woefully drunken state.  He
spoke loud enough to elicit the attention of everyone else in the room, driving
conversations to death or to faint whispers.

“Is there a problem?” Nimriel asked, her voice devoid of fear for she felt none. 
Even as a she-elf and a princess, she was more than capable of handling a man
such as this.  Her eyes, as she knew her brothers and the twins were doing,
flickered over the man, assessing him quickly and discretely before returning to
his face, awaiting his answer.

“You are the problem, all of ya.”  Six elegant eyebrows arched delicately in
confusion and faint annoyance at the accusation.  “Damn Rangers riding into
town, walking through the village with an arrogant swagger like ya’ll own the
place.”  The man seemed not to notice the brief smirks of delight that
illuminated the elves’ faces at his blatant mistake of their identities.  The
man frowned slightly as dull brown eyes flicked from one cloaked figure to
another, his annoyance rising when he realized he couldn‘t see any of their
faces clearly.  “What ya’ll want in Lil Bree anyway?”

“Just a night’s room and board and a little food before we’ll be on our way in
the morning,” Elladan replied, eyeing the hand that still rested on the
princess’ shoulder.  It was clear that Nimriel was becoming uneasy by the close
proximity of the man, though she remained stoic and calm.  “We’ve been riding
all day.  Surely the horse who carries the burden of a rider throughout the long
day may take some rest at the very least.”  Murmurs of approval and agreement
swept around the room at the twin’s delicate reasoning.  The truthfulness of his
words only seemed to anger and annoy the man further, as he was joined by three
others who the elves could only assume to be his friends; they too were also
intoxicated.

“Well we don’t like Rangers in this here town,” one of his companions
interjected.  “I dun rightly care if your lame horse is tired or not.  Ya’ll
aren’t welcome here and we’ll thank ya kindly to leave.”

“Abel, now calm down,” Bowman tried to soothe.  He didn’t like fighting among
his guests in his place.  The owner felt he had to stop the men from provoking
the strangers further, as he got the funny feeling that his six new guests were
much more than they seemed.

“Now you stay out of this, Butterbur.  We dun intend to muck up ya place so
there’s no reason for ya to worry too much.”

“For once, I agree,” Arondil said, getting to his feet.  His motion was mirrored
by the others save for Nimriel.  The hand, which remained on her shoulder,
forced the princess back into her seat as well as causing glares that could have
rivaled the flames within Khazad-dum to ignite in the eyes of her brothers. 
Arondil worked to keep his voice steady as he spoke again.  “I shall thank you
kindly to unhand my companion.”

“Yeah?  Or what, boy?”

“Or be unhanded.”  There was a moment’s pause before a yelp was let loose
through the tavern.  Legolas had barely finished speaking when he sprung over
the table from where he was opposite his sister to land nimbly at her side,
painfully wrenching the hand off her shoulder.  With a twist, the prince had the
man pinned facedown on the table and hands held behind his back.

“Unhand him!” the one Bowman had called Abel demanded, moving on uneasy feet
toward Legolas in an attempt to free his friend.  The prince whirled on his
heels, pulling the man up and in front of him.

“As you wish,” he said, pushing the man forward whilst springing back to join
his brothers.  The two men stumbled into each other in a tangle of limbs and
curses.  Unable to keep their balances due to the combination of ale in their
systems and their collision, they fell backwards into a table occupied by a
group of a half dozen dwarves.  This particular group had continued their
conversation animatedly in whispered voices despite the confrontation going on
just behind them.  Upon the toppling of the men, however, not only was their
conversation rudely interrupted, but their table was upset by the force of the
man‘s fall, spilling their still-unfinished mead in a dozen directions.

“Ingrates!” the dwarves shouted, springing to their feet and brandishing broken
table legs and chairs, whatever was within reach.  “We shall teach you a lesson
in manners, filthy humans!”  With that they pounced, again toppling Abel and his
companions, upsetting more tables, plates, cups and guests.  A simple
misunderstanding led into an all out tavern fight, in which no one, save for
Butterbur and the elves who had retreated to a different corner, was left out
of.

“This was not quite the excitement we were looking for when we came here,”
Celeron commented with a sheepish looking grin as he and the others observed the
chaos around them.  

“Aye, though this is certainly not something you see everyday,” Elrohir replied. 
“At least I never have.”  The others nodded their agreement while Legolas looked
over at his lover; Elladan fought to control the laughter bubbling up within him
at the sight of men and dwarves yelling obscenities at the top of their lungs
while trying to throttle one another in their drunken states.

“Rangers indeed,” huffed Nimriel.  “I admire the Dunedain, but to be mistaken
for one of them!”  The undignified, annoyed pout held on the princess’ face was
enough to send the twins and her brothers into peals of laughter.  Their mirth,
however, was quickly interrupted as a hand swept out, grabbing hold of a corner
of Elrohir’s cloak and pulling him to the ground.  The twin landed
unceremoniously onto his back while a large body fell upon him.  Rolling to his
side, Elrohir narrowly missed the fist aimed at his face, scrambling to his feet
and to his brother’s side, discovering that he and the others were backed into a
corner.

“Think this is all very funny, do ya?” Abel sneered, peering through disheveled
hair and sporting a split lip.  “We’ll teach ya’ll a lesson in respect!”

“Nay, it is us who will be teaching such a lesson,” Elladan replied, unsheathing
the sword at his hip.  The light caught the elven made blade, its deadly edge
warning the men away.  The sound of more swords being drawn was heard, a hush
falling over the tavern, all eyes turning towards the strangers.  Arondil and
Celeron had also unsheathed their swords as Legolas brandished a pair of knives
in each hand; behind them stood Elrohir and Nimriel, arrows nocked, bows drawn
taut.  In the process of arming themselves, each of their hoods had fallen away,
revealing fair features and leaf-like ears.

“What manner of being are yee?” Abel cowered, his voice trembling as he fell to
his knees before the elves.

“Antolle ulua sulrim,” Celeron hissed, his voice barely a whisper but carrying
through the now silent and awe-stricken room.  None but the elves knew the true
meaning of his insult, but the ferocity of his voice was enough to convey his
anger, as well as the brandished weapons.  The men and dwarves instantly
released one another, backing away from the elves.  Slowly and cautiously, the
six put away their weapons as Elladan turned to Bowman and bowed.

“We shall be taking our leave of you tonight and retiring, kind host,” he said
politely.  “Please see to it that our mounts are saddled and ready to leave
early tomorrow morn.”  Bowman merely nodded, dumbfound, as the elves turned and
made their way up to the rooms given to them.  

Silently, Arondil, Celeron and Legolas disappeared into one, reappearing later
laden with their belongings to join their sister and the twins in the second
room; a silent agreement ran through them that they should spend the night in a
single room.  Each slumped upon a bed or the floor once the door was closed and
locked, a moment of silence filled the room.  The moment was broken when, as
one, the six broke out into more peals of laughter, their silvery voices
carrying in the room, echoing faintly against the walls.

“Did you see their faces?!” Celeron asked through laughs wracking his body.  “I
thought their eyes would pour out of their heads when they saw us!  What a sight
we must have made, six elves with swords, knives and bows in hand against a
tavern full of drunken men and dwarves.”

“Must have been quite a shock,” Arondil commented.  “Still, it was amusing.  I
dare say we shall not forget this adventure for a while to come.”  The others
nodded their agreement before making preparations for sleep.  Nimriel was given
the bed while the others spread themselves about the floor.  Leaning against the
door to prevent any unwanted entrances were Elladan and Legolas, the pair of
lovers leaning against each other, hands clasped and fingers entwined.  

~~~~~~~~~~

“Think we’ll have any trouble trying to leave the town?” Legolas asked.  Morning
had come; the elves had arisen just as Arien was ascending in the sky.  Each
took turns washing up while the others kept busy preparing their things for the
last leg of their journey.  They had decided to skip the morning meal, still
having enough lembas to keep them hearty till they reached Imladris.

“I hope not, gwanur-nîn,” Arondil said, slipping a knife into his wrist guard. 
“I should hope after what occurred last night, the men and dwarves would give us
a wide girth and allow us to leave in peace.”

“Let us hope it is so,” Elladan replied, a faint smirk of amusement crossing his
face as he recalled last night’s events.  The shocked look on Abel’s disheveled
face flashed into his memory, forcing the twin to bite down on his lip to keep
from roaring in laughter.

Once ready, the princes and princess hefted their possessions, making their way
downstairs and to the stables.  Not a soul was in the tavern, but Bowman was
awaiting them at the doors to the stable, their horses refreshed and ready for
the journey.  Each stallion and mare nudged their riders, greeting them as the
elves began to burden their friends with first their belongings and then
themselves.  With a gracious smile despite last night’s incident, Bowman wished
the companions as safe journey as they rode off.  They were halfway out of the
town when Nimriel reined her mare to a stop, staring with slack jaw at the
street before her.  Her brothers and the twins exchanged confused glances before
stopping beside her, turning their eyes to where her green orbs were focused. 
Their mouths too slipped open at the sight before them.

From their stopping position to just before the gates were each and every
inhabitant of the village, men, women and children alike.  All were kneeling
prostrate on the ground, heads bowed in deep respect directed toward the elves
who they seemed to revere as some sort of holy, spiritual beings.  A flood of
laughter threatened to overwhelm Elladan; instead, he smirked wickedly before
starting his horse into a trot.  The others followed suit, laughter barely
suppressed on their fair faces, eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.  

None looked back as they left the town, hearing the gates close behind them and
the people shuffling to their feet.  It was not until they were well into the
surrounding forest did they allow themselves to laugh in utter amusement to the
sight they had seen.  Their mirth was carried by the wind back to the town, the
sounds of their musical voices frightening many villagers who feared punishment
for upsetting the starlit beings, same as the night before.  

The children, however, delighted in the laughter they heard, impressing the
sound into their minds along with the faces of the strangers.  They told many a
tale each night to their children, who passed it onto their own children for
generations to come, long after the ships had sailed for Valinor.  No elf was
ever seen again within the gates of Lil’ Bree, but many were careful not to
upset a stray Dunedain who might pass, fearing he would be another spiritual
being who would not be as merciful.

Translations:
Antolle ulua sulrim-Much wind pours from your mouth
Gwanur-nîn-My brother




Chapter 8: Stolen Hearts
Summary: Elladan debates on how to tell his father about his relationship, one
Thranduil does not entirely approve of but lets be for his son‘s happiness. 
Legolas ponders a new way of attracting his lover’s attention (slash).

“Ada, I have found my soul’s companion while in Mirkwood…no, that doesn’t sound
right.  How about…I have discovered my other half residing in the beech trees of
the Greenwood.  No, that’s wrong too.”  Elladan was a wreck as he paced his
chambers, trying to put his thoughts into something that was not only coherent
also conveyed what he wanted to say to his parent.  He was having no luck
despite all the diplomacy he had been taught as an elfling.

It had been nearly  two months since he and Elrohir had returned to Imladris
with Legolas and his siblings in tow.  The Mirkwood princes and princess had
been awed by the immense beauty of the valley.  Glorfindel had ridden up to meet
them, welcoming back the twins and greeting the guests before leading them to
the Last Homely House.  There, Elrond awaited them along with Arwen, who had
returned from Lothlorien just two days previously.  Upon seeing his father,
Elladan had felt a tremor of terror fill him as he suddenly became aware of the
fact that he would have to tell his father about the relationship he shared with
Thranduil’s youngest son.

Elladan suddenly stopped pacing as he recalled how the golden king had reacted
to the news.  Thranduil had gone absolutely silent; at his side, Erinien had
smiled and silently given her consent to the pair.  It had given them a small
measure of hope as Legolas and Elladan stood before the king, close enough to
draw comfort from the other, but never touching.  The twin had sensed Elrohir
and Legolas’ siblings watching from a hidden corner, thankful for their support
as well.  

Long moments had passed during which a number of emotions had passed within
Thranduil’s eyes, before he smiled, giving his consent.  Elladan, as Legolas
embraced his father, had felt that the king was not in complete approval,
despite his words, and had instantly promised to keep Legolas happy and safe if
it were within his strength and power.  The oath seemed to appease Thranduil, as
his smile broadened and he motioned Elladan forward to embrace him as well, the
twin‘s taut body relaxing measurably as he stepped into the warm hug.

Now it was time for Elrond to know of this coupling and, for some reason,
Elladan feared his father’s reaction more than he had Thranduil’s.  He was not
sure why, as he was much more familiar with dealing with his own father than
with Legolas’.  Elladan sighed; this would be a difficult matter to discuss with
his father.  But discuss it he must, so, mounting the courage he needed, the
twin left his chambers and proceeded down the corridor.  Upon reaching the door
to his father’s study, he took a couple of deep steadying breaths, smoothed his
clothes and the braids in his hair, and knocked thrice upon the wooden frame.

“Enter,” a voice commanded gently from within.  Taking yet another deep breath,
Elladan grasped the door handle, twisted it and proceeded into the room.  His
attention was caught by the firm, straight back and gleaming golden hair that
came into view; he hadn’t expected Glorfindel to be present.  As the blond Elda
turned, it was revealed that Erestor was also in the room, standing next to
Elrond as the pair went over a group of scrolls on the lord’s table.

“Elladan,” Elrond said, noting the entrance of his eldest.  “You are not out
with your brother and the princes?”

“Nay, there’s something I must discuss with you, Ada,” the son replied, working
to keep his voice steady.  He threw an uneasy look at his father’s advisors,
particular at Elrond’s blond lover.  Glorfindel took the hint immediately and
motioned for Erestor to follow him out, mentioning something about maps as he
closed the door.  Elladan sighed in relief.  He had always seen his father’s
advisors as friends and confidants, but today he needed to speak with Elrond
alone.

The lord of Imladris caught the uneasy look in his son’s eyes, read the mixed
emotions on his youthful face.  Sliding into a chair, he folded his hands across
his lap, waiting in silence for Elladan to begin speaking.  The elder twin
remained on his feet a moment longer but claimed a chair when he noticed that
his father had already done so.  When Elladan remained silent for the next few
moments, Elrond slowly reached across the table, laying his hand gently over his
son’s clasped pair, feeling the faint tremble running through the lithe body.

“Elladan,” he said in a soothing voice.  “Whatever it is, tell me.”  Hearing his
father speak in such a calm voice gave the twin the courage he needed to speak
his mind.

“Ada, in the year I spent in Mirkwood, I discovered a lot of things,” he began,
staring at their joined hands as his thoughts came to him.  “Elrohir and I found
that we were rather happy there.  Of course we’re glad to be home, but Mirkwood
was a fascinating place and we loved it there.”

“I thought you would.”  Elladan gave a faint nod before continuing.

“I rather admired King Thranduil for looking after his people so closely.  He
cares for them all deeply, and for his family.  I’ve only ever seen you, Nana,
grandfather and grandmother care for us so.  The king loves his children, and
will do anything for them.”  It was Elrond’s turn to nod at his son’s words.

“This I knew already, for that is one of the reasons why the two of us respect
each other so.  But that is not what you came here to discuss, is it, Elladan?” 
Elladan shook his head, braids of raven hair swishing into his face with his
movements.  Slowly, he lifted gray eyes to lock with the identical pair of his
father’s.  Such emotion filled them, that Elrond found himself holding his
breath in anticipation of his eldest child’s next words.

“I have found love beneath the beeches of Mirkwood, Ada.  ‘Tis a love I feel I
can no longer live without.  It would grieve me so to have the center of my
affections taken from me to a place I cannot follow.  I know not what I would do
,should such an event occur, though surely I would die of the elven illness if
it came to pass.”  A small sigh of contentment left Elrond, which went unnoticed
by his son.  He had waited two months for Elladan to confess to something the
lord already suspected.

“I gathered as much as I observed you of late.  You seemed changed, you and
Elrohir both.  Yet it was a different change.  Your brother has had a sudden
boost of energy and merriment; such mirth in his eyes I have not seen since
before your mother passed.  But you, ion-nîn, have changed in a different way. 
You are more compassionate and calm, as if something has soothed your soul and
mind.  I thank whichever one of Thranduil’s children has brought about this
change in you.  But tell me, pen-neth, is it the princess, or one of her
brothers?”

“It is her brother, the youngest.  Legolas.”  Such delight filled Elladan’s
voice as he uttered the name.  It filled Elrond with a childish glee at hearing
the name leave his son’s lips like a much-cherished endearment.  Deftly he slid
out of his chair, his feet making little noise as he seemed to glide around the
table to stand behind Elladan.  Leaning over, he enveloped his son in an
embrace, kissing his hair tenderly.

“I am happy for you, ion-nîn,” Elrond whispered into a pointed ear.  “I am glad
he makes you happy, and am overjoyed to see you happy.  You have my consent.”

“Diola lle, Ada.”  They stayed in the embrace for a moment longer.  Elladan
closed his eyes, drinking in the warmth of the paternal love radiating from the
father he cherished so dearly.  His heart had lightened when Elrond gave his
consent and set his mind at ease.  Turning his head, the twin gave his father a
chaste kiss on the cheek and a brilliant smile before rising from his seat as
the two departed to join the others for the afternoon meal.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are you leading me, ernil-nîn?”

“Be patient, melethron-nîn.  You shall see soon enough.”  Elladan gave his lover
a playful scowl as Legolas led him through the woods of Imladris.  The dark elf
had felt much more lighthearted after the earlier talk with his father, even
more delighted at the dazzling smile Legolas had given him when he relayed
Elrond’s consent.  Now evening was approaching, the evening meal commencing in
less than two hours, as the prince led his lover along a curving path through
the woods.

“Two months here and you act as if you’ve known the place forever,” Elladan
jested.  Legolas flashed him another smile over his shoulder.

“Perhaps I have,” he replied teasingly.  “I spent many a night listening to you
talk of your home, you might well recall.  Besides, while you were speaking with
your father, Elrohir was kind enough to show me some hidden places he said you
liked to visit.”

“It would seem that my dear brother is trying to play matchmaker.”

“Nay, that is impossible, melme, for we are already matched.”  A soft chuckle
left the twin at the truth of his sun’s words.  “Ah, here we are.”  Elladan was
amazed as they entered a small clearing about a hundred yards away from the
falls of the Bruinen.  His astonishment was aimed directly at Legolas, rather
than the beauty of the clearing and the swirling pool of water.  The twin wanted
to be the one leading Legolas to the location; he had never expected to have his
prince led him here.  “Amazed?”

“Very.”  With a smile, Elladan turned, wrapping the golden prince in his arms
and kissing him lightly on the lips.  “But glad.  I wanted to show you this
place, at least once.”  Legolas smiled, leaning his head on Elladan’s shoulder.

“I can see why you like it so much.  It’s so serene and calm here, a place to
get away when the world is too much.”

“Or when you just want a little privacy.”  There was a glint in the gray eyes
that Legolas knew all too well.  He smiled knowingly, stretching his arms about
the twin’s neck to pull them into another, more heated kiss.  They parted for
air only to come back together with more passion, hands fumbling with clasps and
casting clothing aside.  Limbs tangled, bodies crumpled against one another as
each brought his lover to rest on the soft, carpet-like grass at their feet. 
For a moment they just held one another, stormy gray orbs locking with a beloved
sapphire pair, hands playing softly across liquid silk skin.  The world seemed
to stand still; nothing else existed save for the entwined pair.

With a smile, Elladan leaned closer, placing soft kisses over Legolas’ cheek
before moving to the smooth column of his neck.  He nipped lightly at the skin,
producing soft sighs and moans of pleasure.  As he worked his mouth, Elladan
kept his hands busy, lightly tickling and brushing curves and planes, knowing
just where to touch to excite his lover.  He felt Legolas’ hands in his hair,
fingering the strands and massaging the scalp gently, causing Elladan to give
his own moan of pleasure as a fingertip brushed over his ear.

“Saes, ithil-nîn,” the prince whispered with an almost pleading voice.  “Don’t
make me wait.  Im lle gara.”

“Anything for you,” Elladan replied, gently soothing him with a tender kiss. 
Rolling onto his back, he brought them both in a sitting position, Legolas
placed across his lap.  Ever so gently he encircled the prince’s weeping
erection with his fingers, his thumb flicking over the head to collect the
pearly drops gathering there.  Legolas gasped, then moaned at the touch.  A
frustrated groan sounded as the hand left, but it was cut short as Elladan
wiggled a finger, coated in his own pre-cum, past his entrance.  He moaned as a
second finger joined the first, gently stretching and preparing him with the
utmost care.  

“Sii’, saes.”

“Uma, sii’.”  Withdrawing his fingers slowly, Elladan cupped his love’s slender
hips, positioning his entrance over the twin’s straining member.  Slowly he
lowered the prince onto himself, gasping sharply at the delightful feel of being
engulfed by overwhelming heat.  For a moment neither dared to move, savoring the
feeling of their joining.  

As his dark lover began to set a steady rhythm, Legolas leaned forward, placing
his golden crown on Elladan’s shoulders and his lips across the skin of the neck
exposed before him; Elladan silently thanked the Valar for his discarded high
necked robes, for he didn‘t want to have to explain anything during dinner.  He
moved slowly, in and out of his lover, both hands settled on slim hips to keep
the movements steady.  One hand slipped from its place to grasp the prince’s
member, pumping in time to the movement of their hips.  Legolas moved as well,
pushing against Elladan each time the twin thrust into him, delicious sensations
washing over the pair at their harmonious joining.  His muscles clenched as his
orgasm came, spilling his seed between their two clasped bodies.  The tightening
feeling surrounding him, accompanied by the vibrations of the prince’s moans
against his throat, sent Elladan over the edge as he too came deep within his
lover.

Exhausted but unwilling to give into sleep, Elladan leaned back, settling on the
grass and drawing Legolas with him.  They lay together, fingers ghosting over
skin and hair, feeling completely satisfied and positively glowing in the
aftermath of their lovemaking.

“Vanima,” Legolas whispered, snuggling closer to the warmth of the twin.

“Lle naa vanima, anor-nîn, a‘maelamin.”

“N’uma.  Lle naa, ithil-nîn.  Lle naa cormamin”  They smiled at each other and
their whispered endearments of love before joining in another kiss.  They stayed
in their embrace for a while longer, unashamed to be exposed to the stars.  The
sounds of voices calling their names could be heard in the far distance, calling
the pair to the evening meal.  Reluctantly they parted, gathering their clothing
and dressing themselves.  They took a moment to smooth the other’s hair and
garments, picking out stray grass blades from hair and robes.  When everything
was back in order, Elladan gave Legolas another loving kiss before wrapping an
arm about the slim waist as the two lovers headed back to join their families
for dinner.

Translations:
Ada-Father
Nana-mother
Ion-nîn-My son
Diola lle, Ada-Thank you, father
Ernil-nîn-My prince
Melethron-nîn-My love/lover
Melme-Love
Saes, ithil-nîn-Please, my moon
Im lle gar-I need you
Sii’, saes-Now, please
Uma, sii’-Yes, now
Vanima-Beautiful
Lle naa vanime, anor-nîn, a’maelamin-You are beautiful, my sun, my beloved
N’uma.  Lle naa, ithil-nîn.  Lle naa cormamin-No.  You are, my moom.  You are my
heart




Chapter 9: Under Eärendil
Summary: The year in Imladris has passed; it is time for the Mirkwood siblings
to return to their realm.  Under the light of a Silmaril, Elladan and Legolas
make a promise (slash).

Winter in Imladris was a magnificent affair.  As the approaching cold descended
upon the valley, trees turned from brilliant green to majestic red, brown and
yellow before shedding their coats for the winter, littering the ground with an
assortment of vibrant colors.  Early snows dusted the valley lightly now and
again as the elves donned their winter cloaks of rich velvets and wool, though
they hardly felt the cold.  It was a time of year the Firstborns enjoyed for the
changing seasons and the anticipation of a new spring which would soon appear.

But this year there was one who found no joy in the season as he had done
countless times before.  Indeed, Elladan was feeling rather low in spirits as
the end of autumn approached, early winter chills playing over the valley some
nights.  For this winter signified the return of the Mirkwood children to their
forest home after completing their foster year as agreed between; a mere four
days remained before their journey back northward.  Though it had only been two
full years since they met, Elladan felt he could no longer roam the lands of
Middle-earth without Legolas at his side.  The approaching winter distressed him
as he roamed the house and grounds, his steps heavy and his eyes downcast.

Twilight began settling in just as Elladan made his way onto a balcony that
overlooked the Bruinen.  It was another one of his cherished spots, a place he
often visited to gaze at the stars at night, seeking silent comfort and counsel
in the star that his grandfather Eärendil had become.  Lifting his eyes, he
sought out that very same star, finding it easily in the fading light.  The
bright point of light flickered as if to acknowledge his presence.  A faint
smile graced his lips as he began to whisper as if the Silmaril could hear him
and respond.

“Ata’da,” he whispered, gazing fondly at the flickering light far above his
head.  “You’re watching me tonight, as you doubtlessly have done each night
since my birth.  You know a lot about me, don’t you?  Even though you aren’t
here in physical form, you’ve always been with me, watching over us all.
“Did you know I’ve fallen in love?  You must have.  You’ve seen him, haven’t
you?  He’s like the sun, Ata’da.  A sun sent down here from above, and I’ve
caught him.  Caught him…and I don’t want to let go.”  Elladan paused for a
moment, his hands on the carved railing tightening when he spoke again, voice
choking ever so slightly.  “He’s leaving soon, to go back to his home.  I knew
it was going to happen, and I can only let him go.  But I don’t want him to go,
Ata’da.  I wish he could stay and be with me, or that I could go with him.  But
he can’t, and neither can I.”  Tears threatened to spill from his eyes; he
closed them to hold the silvery drops back.  “I love him so much.”  Giving into
the emotions welling up inside him, Elladan leaned forward, resting his forehead
against the railing as he allowed himself to cry.

He didn’t hear the light footsteps, nor did he take notice of the presence
beside him until a pair of arms wrapped themselves gently about Elladan’s waist. 
Another body pressed against his back as a head came to rest upon his shoulder. 
The scent of beeches permeated around him, and he lifted his head to look at his
love.

“Legolas?”

“I am here,” came the soft reply before the golden head was raised, gentle lips
placing a sweet kiss on a pale, tear streaked cheek.  “I am here, melme.” 
Elladan sighed, turning in his lover’s arms to bury his face into the creamy
neck and flaxen hair.  Legolas had heard the end of Elladan’s speech and offered
comfort to his lover, tightening his arms around the slim form.  He too felt
grieved concerning his return; he didn’t want to leave Elladan behind, but he
couldn’t very well stay with him either.  Each had fathers who were lords of a
realm, and each, as a son and a prince, had their own duties to perform.  This
they knew, and this was why they despaired.

“I’d ask you not to go, but I know you have to.”  Legolas nodded, stroking the
long raven strands.  “When will I see you again?”  The prince’s heart nearly
broke as hearing the distress and hope intermingling in the voice he knew so
well, making Elladan sound like a little lost child rather than the prince and
fierce warrior he was.

“Soon, I hope.  I’m come as soon as I am able.”  The words and emotion behind
them, as well as the gentle hand stroking his hair, seemed to appease Elladan. 
The pair grew silent again, listening to the rushing of the Bruinen and holding
the other as close as they possibly could.

“You promise?”  The prince smiled at his love’s whispered words, nodding his
head before replying.

“Always.  I shall always come back to you.  There is nothing in this world that
can stop me from seeing or being with you.”  He kissed the dark crown of hair
before leaning in to whisper.  “I promise you, always.  Im vesta, ithil-nîn.”

Elladan smiled before straightening and drawing away.  He fumbled about in the
folds of his robes for a moment; Legolas watched him in confusion but waited
patiently.  After a moment, the twin withdrew his arm from inside his robes and
produced two thin bands of mithril rings nestled in the palm of his hand.   They
were beautiful for their simplicity, twin singular bands without any markings.
Legolas’ eyes sparkled with the light the rings reflected from the stars.  “They
are beautiful.”

“My mother gave them to me, long ago.  She gave another set to Elrohir and told
us to keep one for ourselves and give the other to the one we wished to bind
ourselves to.  I know not what Elrohir has done with his, though one seems to be
missing.”  The twin chuckled softly, interrupting himself.  “Perhaps my brother
has a secret love he does not wish to share.”  The two laughed softly for a
moment, trying to imagine who could have stolen the heart of the other twin.

As their laughter died down, Elladan found himself gazing fondly at the golden
prince.  He held a ring out to Legolas before taking the prince’s other hand,
returning the dazzling smile he was given, his voice a whisper as he spoke. 
“One day I will bind myself to you, ernil-nîn.  But, until then, let these rings
represent our love and our promise for an eternity.”

“Im mela lle.”  With a smile of genuine love on his face, Elladan slipped the
simple band of mithril upon his lover’s right ring finger, his gray eyes
sparkling in the starlight.  He watched with a child-like fascination as Legolas
reciprocated the act with a similar mithril band on the twin’s finger.  The
tokens of love and symbolisms of their promise in place, each pair of eyes
lifted to gaze into the other before them, as Eärendil shone from above, silvery
beams of light playing over the star’s grandson and his lover.

Yet again Elladan found himself marveling at the golden beauty before him while
he lifted his arms, cupping the slender face in warm palms.  He sought to
memorize every inch of Legolas’ face lest he forget the young prince’s features
in the time they would be apart; thumbs simultaneously flicked over creamy pale
skin covering high cheekbones, relishing their smoothness.  Leaning forward, he
planted a chaste kiss above a sapphire eye as he felt slim fingers folding over
his own.  Eyes half-lidded, each stared at the other, breaths mingling as they
slowly drew closer into a kiss so filled with love and devotion that all others
they had shared before paled in comparison.

The need to breathe nagged at them as, reluctantly, they pulled away from the
other.  Elladan leaned his forehead against Legolas’, each drinking in the love
radiating from the other’s eyes as they steadied the rising and falling of their
chests.  Once calm again, the twin took the prince’s hand into his own, leading
him back inside and down the hall.  Together they bypassed the dining hall where
Elladan’s family was sitting with Glorfindel, Erestor and Legolas’ siblings.  A
hearty laugh erupted within the room before Celeron made some statement of
denial, eliciting more laughter.  The pair of lovers resolved to join the group
later, needing only each other for the moment.  In silence they made their way
to Elladan’s chamber, their footsteps making little sound as they slipped into
the darkened room.

Not a word passed between them as, once the door was closed,  they slipped into
each other’s arms again, sharing another sheering kiss while blindly making
their way to the bed.  Fingers and hands fumbled just the slightest bit as they
worked to undo intricate clasps and lacings, pushing delicate robes from equally
delicate shoulders, revealing pale creamy skin in the faint moonlight that
illuminated the room through fluttering curtains.  For a moment all movement
ceased, save for the roaming of eyes as the lovers drowned in the sight of skin,
limbs and bodies they knew and loved so well.  Smiles played across their faces
as they slipped into the bed to begin their passionate dance.

Limbs tangled, lips brushed lips and skin, fingers twisted into silken hair
undoing braids, yet still no words were uttered, no sound made except moans and
gasps of ecstasy.  Elladan allowed his hands to wander of their own accord as he
kissed red tinted lips, bruising them slightly.  Fingertips brushed against the
skin of a taut abdomen, a faint hiss issuing from slightly parted teeth; the
twin smiled in delight at the sounds he was creating from his lover. 
Experimenting, he placed his lips where his fingers had been only to be rewarded
with a soft moan of pleasure.  

Loving the melodic sounds of his lover’s voice while in the throes of passion,
Elladan resolved to make more music, beginning by gliding his fingertips over
the skin of a creamy inner thigh.  The muscle beneath his fingers tensed
slightly before relaxing, a groan escaping moist parted lips.  Again he replaced
his fingers with his tongue, the tip barely rasping against the smooth skin. 
Another moan sounded, cut off by a short gasp as fingers, then tongue, encircled
the engorged head of his sex.  Sapphire eyes fluttered closed as Legolas drank
in the feel of being pleasured, twisting the sheets in one hand, dark silken
hair in the other.  He whimpered, imploring his lover to give him more, which
Elladan did so willingly.

Relaxing his throat, the twin swallowed his love’s erection slowly, allowing his
teeth to scrape lightly across the heated flesh, quivers running through the
lithe body prone before him.  His tongue created a swirling dance around the
engorged sex, making both of their minds spin at the sensations spiraling
through them.  For a few moments, Elladan willed his mind still, concentrating
on only how to best pleasure his sun.  When he felt Legolas about to release, he
pulled away, smiling faintly as the groan of frustration that sounded.  Gentle
hands soothed the body before him, turning the prince over onto his side,
allowing Elladan to spoon up behind him, arms secured about a slim waist.

Legolas’ mind was in a daze, and he loved every moment of it.  He wanted to
drown and never surface from the touch of Elladan’s hands and lips across his
skin, the tremors they caused; just the feel of his lover was all he wanted, now
and forever.  The dark twin was his whole being, his whole world.  It had only
been two years, but the prince could no longer remember life without his
Peredhel, his moon.  He wanted--nay, needed--to see the smiling face in the
morning, to hear the slightly alto laughter, to watch the dancing gray orbs, to
experience everything Elladan could give to him, and more.  The twin was his
soul, his being, his heart.  He was sure Elladan felt the same about him.

He felt something slick run lazy patterns along his lower back.  Legolas shifted
impatiently, willing the hand to move lower.  But he was denied as oiled
fingers, scented lightly with lavender, continued to draw grapevine patterns
along his back.  When his patience was about to snap, the hand complied,
slipping down to his entrance, teasing just slightly before moving inside.  The
prince sighed in pleasure as the digit was joined by another, slowly scissoring
and preparing.  A smile came to him; Elladan always seemed so patient and
gentle, but Legolas knew he was forcing himself to take things slowly.  

A kiss was planted on the nape of his neck as the hand withdrew, replaced with
something larger, harder.  His body relaxed completely as Elladan’s hands came
to rest on his hip, drawing him closer until he was sheathed and Legolas was
filled.  They lay still for a moment, relishing in the feeling of being joined;
both let out a sigh of contentment.  As wordlessly as they have been the entire
evening, Elladan began to move, slowly at first but his pacing quickening with
each moment.  The twin set his lips to a delicately pointed ear, sucking gently
as his rhythm built to a higher pitch; one hand, still slick, slipped from its
place on an alabaster hip to the prince’s throbbing erection, pumping it gently
in time to the other movements.

It was mind boggling, the pleasurable tremors and shivers running through both
their forms.  Gone were the worries of the nearing departure, the idea of being
separated for extended periods of time.  All that seemed to matter any more was
each other, the night and their coupling.  Reaching blindly, Legolas found
Elladan’s right hand with his own, joining their fingers together.  The twin
mithril rings made a charming ringing sound as their fingers became locked,
bringing smiles to both lovers, soon cut off by gasps and moans.  Each was
nearing his end.  Near his peak, Legolas threw back his golden head until it
came to rest against Elladan’s strong shoulder.  The twin in turn placed his
lips on the smooth curve of neck exposed to him, sucking lightly on the pale
skin.  Together they came, rising to the highest peaks before falling into the
warm, soothing waves of being satiated.  

As the stars cleared from his eyes, Legolas turned, exhausted, to the form
behind him.  He smiled at the arms clasped tightly about him as if never wanting
to let go.  He liked the feeling of being wanted as he gazed into sleepy gray
eyes, a similar smile given to him in return before lips descended over his in a
tender kiss.

“Im mela lle.”  The prince smiled at the echo of his earlier words, whispered
into his ear before a delicate, fluttering kiss was placed on the tip.  He
shivered slightly at the touch, sinking deeper into the warmth of his lover as
Elladan pulled the sheets over them.  Turning, Legolas smiled again, pulling the
sheets higher until only their eyes and flowing crowns of hair could be seen.

“Im vithel,” he whispered back in a dreamy voice.  “Im mela lle, a’maelamin.” 
Snuggling closer to one another, the lovers soon departed into sleep, forgetting
their earlier thought to join their families.  All they needed was one another
and the promise that bound them together.

Through the curtains, Eärendil shone down, illuminating the slumbering forms. 
The star twinkled as if in mirth, and through the linens of the bed, two bands
of mithril glowed, symbols of eternal love and a promise to be forever unbroken.

Translations:
Ata’da-Grandfather
Melme-Love
Im vesta, ithil-nîn-I promise, my moon
Im mela lle-I love you
Im vithel-I also
A’maelamin-My beloved




Chapter 10: Curiosity
Summary: Though he has been with his lover for two hundred years, Legolas finds
he knows much about Elladan the warrior and adult, but little about him as a
child.  Curious, the prince confronts Elrond’s trusted advisors, and former
tutors to the twins, about the eldest son.

He found it wildly curious as he watched with keen sapphire eyes from his perch
on the balcony, while the object of his endless affection mounted the stallion
and rode off with the morning’s patrol.  Over the past few days during his
yearly visit to Imladris, Legolas couldn’t help but notice how little he knew
about Elladan.  He had pondered the thought before; Mirkwood’s youngest prince
had known his dark-haired lover for a little over two centuries now.  He had
seen Elladan the elf, Elladan the warrior, Elladan the son and brother, and, of
course, Elladan the lover.  But, Legolas realized, he knew nothing about Elladan
the child, and whatever mischievous things he might have gotten himself into,
which, he suspected, numbered among the plenty.

Deciding to rectify the problem, Legolas stepped away from his balcony perch to
turn and head down the vast and intricate corridors of the Last Homely House,
seeking out someone who could tell him a story, or two.  He passed a few
servants, whom he greeted along the way, familiar with many of the inhabitants
of Imladris from his visits over the years.  The young prince wandered the halls
without thinking too much about where he was going.  Turning a corner, he nearly
collided with his sister, who was eagerly dragging his two brothers by the
wrists.

“Oh, Legolas!” Nimriel cried in excitement, rocking on her heels, as she was
unable to keep still in her sudden excitement.  “Come with us!  Gildor is
visiting, and we are going riding with him.  Arwen and Elrohir are coming along
as well.  Please say you‘ll join us.”  Legolas smiled at her somewhat childish
nature.  Now well into her six hundred years, Nimriel still acted much like an
elfling.  He would have loved to join her, and have a pleasant conversation with
Gildor, but he had other matters in mind.

“Nay, gwathul-nîn,” he declined gently with a chaste kiss to her golden crown of
hair.  “I wish to speak with Glorfindel and Erestor today.  Please give Gildor
my regards, and tell him I shall speak with him at the evening meal.”

“I will.”  With a dazzling smile, and a quick kiss upon her brother‘s cheek,
Nimriel proceeded down the corridor towards the stables, still dragging her two
other very reluctant brothers behind her.  Legolas chuckled softly to himself at
the sight, especially that of Arondil and Celeron’s much annoyed faces, before
continuing on his way towards the library.  

The large oak doors opened at the faintest touch, barely making a sound on their
hinges.  Rows of shelves lined with scrolls and books decorated the much-used
library, the room where most of Elrond’s paperwork was stored.  Passing the
stacks, Legolas found the lord’s two advisors sitting at a table near the large
paneled windows, maps of Imladris spread out before them as they spoke in hushed
whispers about various things concerning the valley haven.  For a moment Legolas
was silent, watching the two of them converse, before Erestor sensed the
prince’s presence and turned to him.

“Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion,” the dark haired advisor greeted.  At the
sound of the greeting, Glorfindel looked up, following Erestor’s gaze before
smiling and bowing to the prince.

“Mae govannen, Erestor, Glorfindel.”

“What brings you to the library this morn so that you may grace up with your
presence, ernil-taur?” Glorfindel inquired, re-rolling a few of the maps and
setting them aside to allow his lean form to perch on a corner of the table. 
Erestor remained seated, slim hands folded upon each other as they rested on the
table.  Legolas took a seat opposite both of them, tilting his head slightly as
he thought of what to say.  “I would think you had other things you would rather
be doing than spending time with two old elves, such as ourselves.”  Legolas
grinned at Glorfindel’s good-natured teasing before speaking

“I was wondering if you could enlighten me a little.”

“As to what?”  Glorfindel’s curiosity was sparked to say the least.  He had
always found it fascinating how Elladan and Legolas seemed to compliment each
other, much the same as between himself and the twin’s father.  While the young
prince seemed to enjoy the company of the pair of advisors, he spent less time
with them than he did with the servants and stable hands.  Legolas usually only
sought out their company when he wanted to learn something about the twins that
Elladan never spoke of.

“I was hoping you could tell me what Elladan was like as an elfling.”  The
silence that followed was stifling, or at least it felt that way to Legolas. 
For a moment, neither advisor spoke.  Glorfindel seemed to be staring out at
something through the windows while Erestor suddenly found his lap of great
interest.  Then, almost as one, the both of them broke out into laughter, having
to lean on one another for fear of losing their balance and collapsing onto the
floor in their hysterics.  Legolas could do nothing but stare, completely
confused by the scene taking place before him, especially that of Erestor.  The
dark-haired advisor always seemed stern, even when he was being pleasant--quite
the opposite from Glorfindel, who was always lively and energetic, engaging the
younger elves in sportive events.  But, here was the pair of wise advisors,
laughing in near hysterics, while leaving poor Legolas completely out of their
amusement.  Eventually they calmed, straightening their rumpled clothing as the
last giggles left them.

“Forgive us, Legolas,” Erestor said at length, a bit breathless from his fit of
laughter.  “We weren’t expecting such a question from you.”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Glorfindel said quickly, reading the bristled expression
coming to Legolas’ face.  “We’re not amused by your question, but at the answers
we could give you.  Elladan and Elrohir were quite…precocious little elves when
they were younger.”  Another fit of laughter seized the blond Elda.  “I will
never forget the frazzled looks on Elrond’s face all those years.”

“Nor will I,” Erestor replied, trying desperately to stifle a giggle, but
failing in his attempt.  A faint smile of mirth began to tug at the corners of
Legolas’ lips.

“So, they were a handful, I gather?” he asked innocently.  Erestor nearly fell
out of his chair at the question, but collected himself at the last moment.

“I believe ‘handful’ does not quite describe how they were.  More like…terrors?”

“That’s more appropriate, I believe,” Glorfindel concurred with a nod of his
head.  “Always running around causing trouble, those two were.  Few could calm
them down when they were feeling mischievous.  There were times when Elrond
would throw up his hands in annoyance and frustration before threatening to feed
the twins to the first dragon or Orc he could find.”  Glorfindel sighed, a
twinkle in his azure eyes.  “Seems like forever ago, but it really wasn’t.” 
Legolas’ sapphire eyes widened at such a confession.

“They were THAT bad??”

“Oh yes, quite,” Erestor replied, smoothing out a wrinkle from his sleeve as if
to distract himself.  “Do you remember the time they decided to give one another
haircuts, Glorfindel?”  A loud snort issued from the blond before he said a
word.

“That has got to be one of the worst times.  I remember Elladan looking
something like this.”  Using his hands and hair, Glorfindel began to
demonstrate, illustrating a lopsided coiffure with raggedly cut streams of hair
on the right side, the left being impossibly short with frizzy ends hanging into
his eyes.  Legolas couldn’t help the sudden laughter that overcame him; he had
to grip the arms of his chair hard to keep his seat, tears of mirth just
beginning to roll down his cheeks.

“And Elrohir?” he managed to ask through his hysterics.

“Completely gone,” Erestor said as Glorfindel fixed his mane.  “We fixed Elladan
with a short cut, but Elrohir lost so much hair to the blade that nearly all of
it was gone.  The poor boy wouldn’t come of out his room for a week afterwards,
then proceeded to blame Elladan for the whole incident.  But, of course, it had
been Elrohir’s idea from the start.  I always thought the honey-in-bed incident
was quite difficult to manage though.”  The corners of Erestor’s lips twitched
at the wide-eyed smile Legolas fixed on his person.  

“Do tell,” Legolas said, rather insistently when Erestor didn’t speak right
away.

“Well, the twins were quite fond of sweets when they were young.”  A blush from
the prince told the advisors at least one of them still was.  “Every few nights
or so, one of them, usually Elrohir, would sneak into the kitchen and pilfer a
slice or two of bread, and either some butter, jam or honey.  On this particular
night, it was Elladan who snuck into the kitchen and indulged himself just a bit
much with the honey.”  Erestor paused for a moment as Glorfindel let out a snort
of amusement in reference to the deepening flush on Legolas’ face; he chose not
to comment as he continued.  “Well, it all boils down to the two dozing off
while in the middle of their snack.  The next morning, Elrond received a knock
on his chamber door and found two sticky, sheet-wrapped boys on the other side. 
They had been thrashing around in their sleep, mingling the honey and the linens
to create a horrid mess in the morning.”

“The twins are quite active in their sleep sometimes,” Glorfindel commented.

“Aye, this I know.”  Legolas bowed his head, unwilling to look into either of
the advisors’ eyes.  The blond Elda found the prince’s reactions highly amusing,
but forced himself to concentrate on the subject of the conversation, at least
for the time being.  “So, how did you get them untangled?”

“We didn’t,” Erestor replied.  “Elrond did.  He was the only one awake at the
time.  The whole household awoke to a rather loud squawking sound.  It took us a
moment to realize the sound came from the baths.  When we reached them, we
discovered that Elrond had, rather unceremoniously, dumped both twins, and
sticky sheets, into a pool.” 

“Yes, indeed,” Glorfindel said, taking up the narration.  “There, in the middle
of the largest pool, were two wet boys trying to disentangle themselves from one
another, and the sheet.  And, in the corner of the room sat Elrond in a fit of
hysterics, and offering his sons no help at all.  Can’t say I blame him either. 
It was all too amusing to watch Elladan and Elrohir climb out of the pool
looking like a couple of wet hens, fuming at their father, though knowing full
well that it was all their fault.  They haven’t snuck any honey or sweets into
their rooms since.”

“That’s what you think,” Legolas murmured unconsciously, unaware of the snickers
he set off in the advisors.  The prince coughed, trying desperately to control
his blush and to draw attention away from himself.  “So?  What else did they
do?”

“Ah, what else indeed?” Glorfindel said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. 
“Are there even enough hours in the day to relate them all?”

“I dare say there are not,” Erestor commented, pleased at the excited look his
words elicited in the prince.  This would be quite an eventful morning.

~~~~~~~~~~

“And then there was the time the twins snuck beetles into Arwen’s bed when she
was about twenty.  The outcome was not pretty.”

“Do not keep me in suspense.  What did she do?”  The time was nearing noon. 
Soon, the maids would be calling everyone to lunch and the morning border
patrols would be returning.  Within Imladris’ library, Glorfindel and Erestor
had been recounting numerous stories to Legolas, who had eagerly sat and
listened to them all.  The young prince hadn’t realized his lover had gotten
into so much trouble when he was an elfling.  He couldn’t understand why Elladan
had never told him such stories before.  He reminded himself to ask the twin
about the matter later.

“What did Arwen do?” Glorfindel repeated.  “Well, what do you think she did? 
One look at all the little black bugs crawling all over her bed set her off.”

“If I remember correctly,” Erestor said, “first, she screamed.  Then, she ran to
Elrond.  And, the next thing anyone knew, Arwen had grabbed Hadhafang and began
chasing her brothers done the corridors, waving the sword around.  Now, mind
you, this is a child chasing around two grown elves.  And yet, Elladan and
Elrohir were running for their lives as they knew, once they were caught, Arwen
would be serious in whatever punishment she decided to deal out.”

“I’ll never forget her face, either,” Glorfindel added with a snicker.  “If you
think she’s sweet and refined now, Legolas, you should have seen her then. 
Dress hitched up in one hand so she wouldn’t trip, dark hair flying loose behind
her, elven sword swinging wildly in the air, and a look that promised instant
death to anyone who got into her way.  Since that day, neither of the twins
dared to play another trick on her.  The only reason they got away then was
because they got to their horses before she got to them.”  The room exploded
into laughter before the Elda had a chance to finish speaking.  The source of
the mirth came solely from Legolas, who was doubled over on the table, shaking
with uncontrollable laughter.  He found it becoming increasingly difficult to
breathe, but couldn’t stop the flow of hysterics issuing from him.  The advisors
found the sight before them highly amusing, but checked their laughter to a mere
giggle.

“I never imagined Elladan and Elrohir could cause so much trouble,” the prince
said once he had calmed down enough.  “You would never think so just by looking
at them.”

“You had to have been there to see it all,” Erestor replied.  “I’ve lost count
of the number of times…”

“Legolas?”  Elladan’s voice filtered in from the open doors of the library.  He
had returned early from the patrol and was seeking out his lover.  “Legolas? 
Where are you?”

“In the library,” Legolas replied.  A moment later, a dark head appeared,
smiling when Elladan caught sight of the object of his affection.  He blinked in
surprise when he discovered Glorfindel and Erestor also in the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, taking a step inside.

“No, not at all,” Erestor said calmly with a faint shake of his head. 
“Glorfindel and I were just recounting some memories to the prince.”

“What kind of memories?”  Elladan seemed worried at the snicker that issued from
Glorfindel.

“It’s nothing, melme,” Legolas said, rising from his seat and taking Elladan’s
hand.  “Come, let us make for the dining hall.  The maids will be announcing the
noon meal soon.”  Elladan nodded, following his flaxen-haired lover out, not
noticing the smile Legolas threw the two advisors.  Snickers and giggles could
be heard as the library door closed.

“What were you talking about in there?” Elladan asked as they walked down the
corridors.

“Nothing much.  I had asked Glorfindel and Erestor to tell me a story or two to
entertain me while you were gone.”

“Did it have something to do with me?”

“Why so worried, melethron-nîn?  It was nothing bad.”  Elladan didn’t seem
convinced.  Smiling, Legolas laid a brief kiss upon the twin’s lips, never
breaking stride as they walked.  “Do not worry so.  I just wanted to know what
you were like as a child.  Glorfindel and Erestor were the only ones I could
find to tell me about such things.”  He suppressed a laugh at the raised eyebrow
he received in reply.  “If I have hurt you, ithil-nîn, then I shall make it up
to you later tonight.”  Elladan’s gray eyes seemed to sparkle at such a
prospect; Legolas found himself stifling another giggle.

“You promise?”

“Aye, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that then.  And you had better not disappoint me.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”  A bright smile swept across Legolas’ fair face as Elladan
placed a loving kiss upon his brow.  The two continued on their way towards the
dining hall, hand-in-hand.  The prince made a mental note to ask Elrond more
about the twins’ childhood.  He was sure the elven lord could tell him a great
deal about Elladan.  His lover had had an interesting childhood.  Legolas wanted
to know as much as he could about the dark twin, and if he had to ask the whole
of Imladris to find out everything that he wanted, then so be it.

Translations:
Gwathul-nîn-My sister
Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion-Well met, Legolas son of Thranduil
Ernil-taur-Forest prince or prince of the forest
Melme-Love
Ithil-nîn-My moon


Chapter 11: Lessons from Lovers
Summary: Legolas and his siblings are returning for their agreed-upon visit as a
young Estel wonders what is keeping his eldest foster brother in such high
spirits; it couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?

There he went again, practically skipping down the halls in glee, dark hair
breezing around him as he rushed down to his room to change from robes to
leggings.  There was a childish playfulness that had not been seen on his face
for quite some time.  He ignored everything and everyone in his path, too
immersed in this thoughts to take notice.  Only once was he forced to stop, when
a maid carrying a folded stack of linen suddenly appeared in his path.  Too
happy to feel angry at the intrusion on his joy, he kissed her playfully on the
cheek before racing down the corridor, leaving the maid giggling knowingly at
his behavior.  He didn’t notice the pair of gray-blue eyes focused on him the
entire time, not even after he had shut his door with a grin.

It was a sight he never expected to see among the elves, his foster family in
particular.  It had been days, and still Estel could not fathom what was keeping
his eldest foster-brother in such high spirits.  And this wasn’t the first time
either.  In his ten years of living in Imladris, the young Dunedan had noticed
Elladan’s gleeful behavior exactly once a year.  Such playfulness was then
replaced by a gloom countenance a few weeks later.  And it always, always
occurred either when the twins were scheduled to visit the forest of Mirkwood,
or when Thranduil’s children were paying Imladris a visit.  This time happened
to be the former.

When it was announced at breakfast that the Mirkwood siblings would be paying
their bi-yearly visit, beginning that day, Elladan had nearly upset the entire
table as he shot up in his chair.  A mix of happiness, surprise and another
emotion Estel couldn’t read had flashed across his face before it was quickly
masked.  Yet, the third emotion had remained in his eyes as he settled back into
his chair, and throughout the rest of the day.  Judging by the looks on his
foster-father and Elrohir’s faces, they knew just what it was that had raised
Elladan’s spirits, but neither were willing to share at the meal.  Estel had
tried in vain to pry the information from Glorfindel and Erestor later that
morning; both had remained tight-lipped and merely replied that he would find
out soon.  Soon wasn’t fast enough.  He wanted to know now.  Though he had
decided against it at the start, Estel finally chose to ask Elrond about the
matter.  He would cave in after some persuasion--or so Estel thought.

“Ada?” Estel asked, cautiously sticking his head into Elrond’s study.  The elven
lord sat busy at his desk, quill poised above a sheet of parchment, when the
sound of his foster-son’s voice reached his ears.

“Estel?  What is it?”  The lord of Imladris set down his quill, motioning for
the boy to come closer.  Shutting the door quietly behind him, Estel stepped
into the room and towards the desk, which was overflowing with papers.  Though
always busy with some sort of work, Elrond seemed to make time for his children
when they were in need of him.  He could tell from the look in Estel’s eyes that
the boy was curious about something, and had come to Elrond seeking out answers. 
Nimbly, Estel climbed into a chair opposite Elrond.  He fumbled with his hands a
moment before speaking.

“I wanted to ask you something, Ada.”

“About what?”  Again, the young child fumbled with his hands, trying to find the
right words to say.

“About Elladan.”  The elven lord arched an eyebrow at the reply.

“What about Elladan, Estel?”

“Well, he was really happy at breakfast when you said Arondil and the others
would be visiting today.  It started me thinking.  Every year before he and
Elrohir leave for Mirkwood, or when Arondil and the others come here, he’s
always really happy.  And then, a few weeks later, he’s always really sad and
gloomy.  I don’t understand.  I thought maybe you could tell me, Ada.”  Elrond
regarded his foster-son for some moments.  Estel was unusually observant at
times; if something seemed to be amiss, he was usually one of the first to
realize it.  The lord of Imladris had known that, one day, the young child would
inquire about the relationship that existed between his eldest son and
Thranduil’s youngest son--he just didn’t expect Estel to ask so soon.  And, now
that he had, Elrond found it rather difficult to explain the emotion of love to
a human child.  He decided to diverge from the answer and hope Estel would
either forget about the matter or figure it out on his own.

“Estel, I’m not sure that…”

“My lord?”  Two pairs of gray eyes turned towards the door at the sound of the
voice.  There stood Glorfindel, rolls of parchment in his arms.  He looked as if
he was in a hurry, and a bit frazzled.

“Yes, Glorfindel?”

“There are some important matters than cannot wait any longer for your opinion,
my lord,” the Elda said, striding into the room and setting the rolls down upon
Elrond’s desk.

“Your question will have to wait, Estel,” Elrond said with a sigh.  “I’m afraid
there are more pressing matters that require my attention at the moment.”  With
a nod, Estel rose from his seat, bowing to his foster-father and his advisor
before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

“You have impeccable timing, melme.”  His words caused Glorfindel to grin, and
lay a kiss upon Elrond’s brow.

“I figured Estel would come to you, asking about Elladan’s reaction at breakfast
this morning.  He didn‘t get any answers from Erestor and I, so naturally you
would have been the next person he would have asked.”

“So you come with a distraction.  I thank you for that.”  The Elda gave his
lover another grin before unrolling a parchment.

“Thank me later.  These documents really do need your approval.”  Elrond sighed
deeply, retrieving his quill and proceeding with the work, wondering what his
children would be up to this day.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Elrohir?”

“In the stables, Estel.”  He wandered into the stables to find the youngest of
his foster brothers clearing out four empty stables--likely, Estel gathered, to
be later occupied by the horses that bore the children of Thranduil.  Moving to
a corner, he perched himself upon a stool nearby, watching as Elrohir filled the
stalls with rich hay for the horses.

“Something bothering you, Estel?” Elrohir asked without turning.  Once the hay
was piled, he then moved make sure everything else was settled.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Estel began.  “I tried asking
Glorfindel and Erestor, but they didn’t give me an answer.  Then I tried asking
Ada, but he had work to do.”

“So you came to ask me.  All right then, what is it you want to know?”  Finished
with the preparations, Elrohir turned to his foster-brother, regarding him
carefully.  The younger twin had, as of late, found Estel to be rather curious
of a number of things.  The young boy picked up on a number of things that,
sometimes, the elves failed to take notice of.

“It’s about Elladan.”

“All right.  What about Elladan?”

“Well…”  Estel fumbled for a moment, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. 
“When Ada said Arondil and his siblings would be visiting at breakfast, Elladan
seemed really excited.”

“And you want to know why?”  Estel nodded.  “Well, Elladan is really looking
forward to seeing Legolas again.”

“So am I.  But, I don’t act like that.”  He tilted his head in curiosity when he
noticed the faint touch of a blush coming to Elrohir’s cheeks.

“Yes, but Elladan is excited in…um, a different way.”

“What kind of way?”  By Elbereth, Elrohir could not believe he was having this
conversation with Estel.  He was beginning to understand why Glorfindel and
Erestor had not answered the boy’s questions, and why his father suddenly took
an interest in his overwhelming load of paperwork.

“Elladan and Legolas are…really good friends, Estel.  And, they don’t see each
other often.  So, they sometimes get rather excited when they hear the other is
going to be visiting.”  Elrohir hoped his answer was enough for the boy. 
Apparently, it wasn’t.  Estel adopted his ‘come to think of it’ look when a
sudden thought occurred to him.

“You’re really good friends with Orophin, right, Elrohir?”

“Y-yes.  What’s your point, Estel?”  He did not like the turn this conversation
was suddenly taking; when had the talk moved from Elladan onto himself?  Elrohir
hoped the sudden rush of heat he felt coming to his cheeks was not yet showing.

“Do you act that way when you hear he’s going to be visiting?”

“W-what makes you say that?!”

“Well, you said Elladan and Legolas are really good friends, so that’s why
Elladan gets so excited when Legolas is visiting.  I was just wondering if you
felt the same way when Orophin pays a visit, or when you go to Lorien.”  By now,
Elrohir was blushing furiously in his embarrassment.  If he had felt
uncomfortable talking about his brother’s relationship with Legolas, he was
feeling really edgy about his own relationship with the Galadhrim.  He prayed to
the Valar that something--anything--would occur to release him from such an
awkward state.

“Elrohir!  Estel!”  The younger twin let out a loud sigh of relief at hearing
his double’s voice call him; at the same moment, Estel sounded a grunt of
frustration at having his conversation interrupted, again, before he received an
answer.  Following Elrohir out of the stable, they hurried to the entrance of
the manor in time to see the Mirkwood siblings ride up with smiles on their
faces; in their company was an old, gray-garmented wizard.

“Mithrandir!” Elrohir greeted.  “Tis a pleasure to see you again!”

“And you, master Elrohir,” the Gray Pilgrim said, grinning from ear to ear as he
dismounted from his gray steed.  He chose not to take notice as Elladan helped
Legolas down before the two shared a brief, concealed kiss.  “And how are you
this bright morn, Estel?”

“As well as I can be,” the boy replied.  A pair of bushy eyebrows shot up in
disbelief.

“Something troubles you this day, my young friend.  Come, let us see if we can
remedy it.”  The wizard led the boy away for some privacy as Elladan turned to
his twin.

“What was that all about?” he asked as stable hands and maids came to tend to
the horses and luggage.  Elrohir sighed, passing a hand over his face.

“Estel has been asking about you and Legolas,” he replied, eliciting a confused
blink from the prince being mentioned.  “I didn’t tell him anything, and neither
did Ada, Glorfindel and Erestor.  I suppose now he’ll try to get an answer out
of Mithrandir.”  Elladan appeared thoughtful for a moment.  He turned to his
lover, a silent thought passing between them.

“We shall talk to him later,” Legolas said.  “But, come.  Let my siblings and I
greet your father.  Then we shall have a few moments to get reacquainted before
we seek out Estel.”  The twins nodded, following Legolas and his siblings into
the manor.

~~~~~~~~~~

“And, I can’t get an answer out of anybody this morning.  I keep getting
interrupted before they reply, though I am beginning to get the feeling that
they are all avoiding answering my questions on purpose.  It is infuriating,
Mithrandir!”  The wizard listened to Estel’s heated conversation in silence. 
He, of course, knew what passed between Elrond’s eldest son and Legolas.  He
understood well why Elrond, his advisors and Elrohir had all avoided the boy’s
questioning as best they could.  If it were he in Estel’s place, Mithrandir knew
he would be equally frustrated.

“Have you tried asking Elladan or Legolas?”  Estel seemed to sigh in
exasperation, lightly kicking a stone in his path out of the way.

“I haven’t had the chance.  Elladan seemed too content this morning after the
news to ruin his mood.  And I only thought of something being unusual this
morning, otherwise I would have asked Legolas before.”  The boy stopped, first
staring at the bright, clear sky before turning to the wizard.  “Is it something
I’m not supposed to know?”

“I do believe, Estel, that you shall learn the answers to your questions soon
enough.  Patience is a virtue, one you should be well acquainted with in all
your years spent with the elves.  They have a great deal of time before them,
therefore they do not hurry when they do not see a need to.”  He patted the
boy’s shoulder affectionately.  “Give it time, Estel.  You might even receive
your answers right…”

“Estel?”

“Now.”  With a wistful smile, the wizard turned.  He inclined his head to the
pair before making his way into the manor to speak with the lord of Imladris. 
Elladan and Legolas likewise bowed their heads briefly as they passed the wizard
and made their way towards where Estel was waiting.

“Estel, I believe we need to talk,” Elladan said.  The boy nodded, sitting on
the overturned log behind him as Elladan’s gesture; the twin and the prince sat
on the ground opposite Estel.  For a few, uneasy moments the three remained
silent.  Finally, Elladan cleared his throat.  “Estel, is there something you
want to ask us?”

“Well…”  He had achieved what he wanted, a chance to talk to Elladan and Legolas
about their recently weird behavior.  Now sitting before them, however, he found
himself unable to come up with anything that sounded coherent.  He decided to
blurt it right out.  “What’s been going on between you lately?  You always act
so different when Ada says Legolas is visiting.  And then, when he leaves,
you’re all depressed, and it takes forever to get you back to normal.  And you,
Legolas, are no better.  Always very cheery when you first arrive, then glum
before you leave.  I just don’t get it.”  

The elves squirmed at the end of Estel’s questioning.  Somehow he had made the
pair feel like elflings again, under the severe questioning of their parents
after they had misbehaved.  Estel was nothing more than a babe compared to them,
and yet he had managed, in a few short sentences, to render the two princes and
warriors speechless and uneasy.  Elladan flashed gray orbs at his lover, hoping
Legolas would speak and ease the silence.  After a moment or two, the prince
obliged.

“It’s a little complicated to explain, Estel,” Legolas began.  “Elladan and
I…well, we’re a little more than friends.  There’s something between us that’s
different from what goes on between Elrohir and I, or Elladan and my brother. 
It’s difficult to explain, Estel.  It’s kind of like…”

“Kind of like what goes on between Ada and Glorfindel?” Estel interrupted.

“Well, yes,” Elladan replied.  “Something like what goes on between Ada and
Glor…how do you know about that anyway?”  Both Elladan and Legolas seemed rather
shocked; Estel had to stifle a giggle at the incredulous looks on their faces.

“They don’t always remember to lock the library doors.”  The laughter poured out
of the boy as he watched the blush stain Elladan’s cheeks, indicating the twin
had also walked in on his father and the Elda.  “Anyway,” Estel resumed after
his giggled died down, “why didn’t you come right out and tell me what was going
on?  It would have made things so much simpler.”

“Well…you’re rather young, and we didn’t think…”  Estel waved his foster-brother
silent.

“Just because I’m a mere ten years of age doesn’t mean I don’t understand some
of the workings of the world.  Besides, if you haven’t noticed, I’m rather
observant.”  The elves nodded, knowing the last statement was true.  They
remained silent as Estel rose and brushed dried leaves clinging to his leggings. 
“Anyway, I’m happy for you both, and for myself for finally figuring this out. 
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go embarrass Elrohir some more and ask
him about Orophin.”  With a wide, dazzling grin, Estel set off, shouting
Elrohir’s name as he raced for the stables, leaving the two lovers in quiet
contemplation.

“What just happened?” Elladan asked after a time.

“I have no idea,” Legolas replied before giving his lover a smile.  He leaned
over to rest his head against Elladan’s shoulder.  “I think Estel is more grown
up for his age than we believe him to be.  He is wise for one so young.”

“You mean a wise aleck.  He‘s much to observant, persistent and sarcastic for
his own good.”  Legolas tried not to laugh at the comment.  “Still, I feel
better now that he knows.  I’m more certain now than ever that Estel will grow
to be a wise ruler of his people.”

“As am I, anor-nîn.”  Elladan leaned his head upon Legolas’, pressing his temple
on top of the golden crown as the lovers fell silent again, whiling the
afternoon away.  In the distance they could hear the exchange going on between
Estel and a very embarrassed Elrohir, smiles crossing their faces as they
imagined what was being discussed.  The sun shone down on them, illuminating
their hair and bathing them in light.  They stayed that way for a while before
Elladan felt compelled to join his foster-brother in hounding his young twin
about Elrohir’s love life.  Legolas followed with a mirthful smile, hoping to
find some entertainment in the tirade.

Translations:
Ada-Father
Melme-Love
Anor-nîn-My sun




Chapter 12: Before the Feast
Summary: It is yet unknown as to why the elves are gathering in meeting with men
and dwarves.  The lovers set aside their questions for the night and get
reacquainted sincetheir last visit with each other (slash).

The news he was bringing to Imladris could have been better.  He didn’t think
himself the best messenger to deliver such news to Elrond, but his father had
thought otherwise.  Perhaps Thranduil had good reason for choosing Legolas
rather than one of the prince’s brothers to relate the news of Gollum’s escape;
but, if there was such a reason, the young prince was unaware of it.  Legolas
simply wanted to tell the tale he was sent to relate and be done with the task.  

As he journeyed closer to Imladris, he swore to himself that he would wait to
tell the story with everyone present who needed to be, and would only tell it
once.  The prince didn’t like to repeat himself.  He took a deep, steadying
breath after making such a decision, and smiled as the familiar rushing of the
waters of the Bruinen filled his ears.

After spending so long battling the darkness that was threatening to take over
all of his home of Mirkwood, Legolas relished the visit he was paying to his
second home.  Imladris had fostered him and his siblings many times over the
years; the valley had indeed become another home for the sons and daughter of
Thranduil.  Its inhabitants became a second family, and its lord a second
father.  It was very much what one called ‘a home away from home,’ and Legolas
had missed it.  He had missed the place, missed the people; he, of his little
troupe of siblings, held the closest ties to the valley, and Legolas missed that
the most.

There had been little time to visit Imladris over the last few years with the
threat of the darkness growing.  The princes of Mirkwood were needed to help the
patrols on their excursions.  Nimriel alone was available to make the yearly
journey, but Thranduil would not let his daughter go without at least one of her
brothers.  The siblings loved their home, but they also longed for the peace and
calm Imladris brought, and the company of their friends.  Even if the news he
carried was less than pleasant, Legolas was determined to enjoy his short
retreat to the valley.

“Daro!”  Legolas smiled at the sound of the familiar voice; the smile broadened
when a dark-headed elf appeared, steering his horse to stop next to the prince’s
steed.  

“Elrohir,” the prince greeted.  The younger twin smiled upon seeing his friend,
clapping Legolas warmly on the shoulder.

“Legolas, it’s been a while.  It is good to see you in the valley again.”

“Indeed, meldir.  I am quite glad to return.”

“I take it your call isn’t entirely social, however.”  Legolas nodded as Elrohir
let out a long, slow sigh.  “Very little news that is brought to the valley
lately is good.  I’m sure Ada would like to hear something pleasant rather than
all this dark business.  These days bring nothing but sadness and dampened
spirits.  Although your coming alone will make some very happy.”

“How is he?” Legolas asked as the pair began to ride back towards the Last
Homely House; the elves that had journeyed with Legolas quickly paced their
horses to follow the two.  The prince couldn’t help but smile faintly as he
thought of Elrohir’s double.

“He misses you, as much as you miss him I suppose.  Actually, we’ve just
returned from helping the northern Dunedain.  The raids against the Orcs helped
clear his mind a bit; I daresay he needed a bit of action lately after spending
a few months at home.  As I said before, little news these days is good;
everyone‘s spirits are a little less lively than normal.”

“Aye, I imagine it would be so.  It is no different in Mirkwood, I‘m afraid. 
The darkness grows; we are at constant war with it.  At times, it seems like we
will be overwhelmed and should flee the wood.  But that is something we cannot
do.  It is our home, the forest we have all grown up in.  Who can simply pick up
their belongings and leave their home without a fight?  Each day is a struggle;
although somehow we continue to move on.”  

“I know, meldir.  I know.”  Elrohir patted his friend’s shoulder
sympathetically.  Each knew and understood the troubles that plagued the other. 
They understood the hardships, the struggles, the triumphs and the defeats. 
Speaking on the matter seemed to dampen their spirits, so they remained silent
for the rest of the ride.

“I shall go and speak with your father,” Legolas said as they reached the house
and dismounted; as always, the stable hands and maids came to claim their horses
and belongings.  Many greeted Legolas kindly, remembering the prince who had
fostered years in Imladris.  Elrohir smiled and nodded as the pair parted ways,
Legolas seeking out Elrond while Elrohir went to lend some help to the stable
hands.  They would see each other later at the feast Elrond was sure to host,
but at the moment they had other duties to attend to--and other people to see.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I have missed you, melme.”  Elladan started at the voice that whispered into
his ear.  He had just returned from making a round of the borders with
Glorfindel and the western patrols.  The twin was tired and a bit hungry; all he
really wanted was a warm bath, some food and sleep.  His weariness, however,
dissipated before a quiet, silvery voice, which he had not heard in some time,
and had greatly missed.

“Legolas,” he whispered, turning to his lover and drawing the prince into a
tight, warm embrace.  Elladan sighed into the flaxen hair, inhaling the scent of
beeches.  “I have missed you, anor-nîn.”

“And I you, ithil-nîn.”  The twin smiled, tilting his lover’s chin upward and
covering Legolas’ lips with his own.  They kissed long and deeply; it was a
caress filled with love and longing, shared by two who had not seen the other
half of their hearts in years.  “You are tired,” Legolas stated as the kiss
ended.

“Aye,” Elladan replied with another sigh.  “The patrols are hard pressed to keep
the borders clear and the roads safe to travel.  The northern Dunedain also have
been quite busy the last few months.  Orc raids are getting more and more
numerous lately, and there are too few hands.  Ada is planning a feast for
tonight and a council tomorrow; I doubt I will attend either.  I am much too
tired for such elaborate affairs.”

“I wish I could join you, melethron-nîn.  However, I am required to attend both,
as a guest and a messenger.”

“You bring news from Mirkwood then?”

“Aye.”

“It is not good news.”  A plain statement, to which Legolas nodded in reply. 
“No news is good lately.”

“Elrohir said the same when I met him on the road.  He told me about your recent
riding with the Dunedain.”

“It is tiring work, even for an elf.  But Estel wishes the Shire folk to be safe
and kept unaware, as always, of the impending darkness.  They are resilient
folk, even if they are mostly unaware of the outside world.  I have seen the
hobbits that arrived with Estel, and they are indeed of a stout stock.”  Legolas
nodded, remembering tales his father related of Bilbo Baggins and the Battle of
the Five Armies.  He listened as Elladan continued speaking.  “I feel for the
hobbits.  Once the rest of Middle-earth has fallen, if that ever happens, they
will be the next to be taken.  It is something I’d rather not think about.”

“Then let us not speak of it,” Legolas said, silencing Elladan with a brief
kiss.  He took his lover’s hand and began to walk down the corridor.  “You are
tired, and would like your bath first, I suppose?  Let us get you one.  Since
you said you will not be attending the feast, then you can rest while I do so.” 
Elladan nodded and smiled, happy to be with his lover again.  He followed
Legolas down the corridors, watching as the prince selected a private pool, shut
and locked the door before drawing the bath water, which he scented lightly with
some dried lavender.

The Peredhel twin put up little resistance as Legolas began the task of removing
Elladan’s dusty, worn traveling garments.  Slender hands deftly unlaced the
tunic, slipping it from the twin’s shoulders to crumple onto the floor.  Elladan
obediently lifted one leg after another to have his boots removed; hands then
slipped to the lacings of his leggings, which soon accompanied the rest of his
clothing.  Once his love was undressed, Legolas quickly divested himself of his
own garments before tugging on Elladan’s arm, the two of them slipping into the
bath and sinking into the warm, steaming water.

It was Legolas’ turn to sigh as the two submerged themselves in the scented
warmth.  Ripples formed and spread as the prince slipped to his lover’s side,
molding his body to fit against Elladan.  The twin smiled, wrapping an arm about
Legolas’ trim waist, resting his head upon the prince’s as the dark and light
strands of their hair mixed in the water about them.  They stayed in that
position, silent, for a few moments before Legolas’ hand slipped along Elladan’s
thigh and wrapped itself about the twin’s sex, slowly working the organ into a
full erection.

“Melme,” Elladan’s voice ending in a gasp, “what in the Valar’s name do you
think you are doing?”

“What?  Are you not enjoying this?”  With a smirk, Legolas shifted his position
to straddle Elladan’s hips, never letting go of his lover’s now rock-hard
erection.  “You are tired and in need of some relaxation.  I am only providing
the stimulus.”

“You are a tease.”  Musical laughter filled the bath at his words.

“Did you not already know that from the moment we met?”  Elladan scowled before
his lips were claimed in a heated kiss.  He moaned into Legolas’ mouth as the
flaxen-haired elf twisted his hand, raking his nails lightly over Elladan’s
heated column.  The bath water seemed to further increase the heat that was
flowing over the twin’s skin; a delicious tingling sensation worked its way from
Elladan’s head, down to his toes before pooling at his core.

Legolas’ ministrations were gentle and soothing, yet brought Elladan closer and
closer to his peak.  Warm, silky lips slipped from his own to trail down his
neck.  A slick, pink tongue darted out to lick the mingled sweat and bath water
from his pale skin as Elladan arched his head back.  Legolas smiled against his
neck, lightly nipping at the skin.

“Come for me, ithil-nîn,” he purred into Elladan’s perfectly pointed ear.  “You
know you want to.”

“Talking dirty, are we?”  Elladan moaned as Legolas flicked his thumb over the
twin’s erection.

“You know you like it.”

“Who says?!”

“Says me.  Remember the last time we did this?”

“That was far too long ago.  But I distinctly remember you thoroughly enjoying
yourself as I rode you.”

“Rode me rather hard that night, did you not?”

“Is this payback then?”  The bath was filled with Legolas’ laughter once again.

“Hardly, melethron.  I enjoyed the ride!  Are you not enjoying this?”  Again, he
flicked his thumb over the slit, this time producing a deep-throated groan
followed by a bruising kiss as Elladan crushed his lips against the prince’s.

“Finish me, anor-nîn.”

“As you wish.”  Legolas sealed Elladan’s lips with his own as his hand gave the
heated flesh of the twin’s cock a few more firm strokes.  Fingertips lightly
teased the sac beneath the engorged sex; the touch was feather light but enough
to force Elladan over the edge.  He came with a throaty moan as he leaned back
heavily against the tub’s edge, spilling a few handfuls of water onto the bath
floor.  With a light kiss and a smile, Legolas sank into his arms, cradling his
golden head on his lover’s shoulder.

“Is that all the relaxation I get tonight, melethron?” Elladan asked, his voice
thick with still-unsatisfied lust.

“For the moment,” Legolas teased.  “There will be plenty of ways for you to
relax…after the feast.”

“Going to make me wait?”

“Of course.  Waiting makes the heart grow fonder.”

“And the libido impatient.”  They both shared a hearty laugh at Elladan’s words,
followed by another kiss.  As the bath water grew lukewarm, the pair removed
themselves from one another, toweling off before slipping back into the clothes
and out into the corridor.  With a final kiss in parting and farewell, they went
their separate ways, anticipating the moment they would reunite and make up for
the years they had been apart.

Translations:
Daro-Halt
Meldir-Friend
Ada-Father
Melme-Love
Anor-nîn-My sun
Ithil-nîn-My moon
Melethron-nîn-My love/lover




Chapter 13: After the Council
Summary: It has been decided that Legolas is to be part of the Fellowship. 
Elladan does not take the news well, but promises to see his lover off in high
spirits, hoping they will meet again.

The council had been a weary and trying time for all those who had been present. 
Few expected to hear the news of Gollum’s escape from the Mirkwood elves; even
fewer had suspected it to be revealed that the Ring of Power was in the hands of
a Hobbit of the Shire.  Men and elves alike were astonished at the news that the
One Ring was to be destroyed; some believed it would be safer hidden from the
Dark Lord, whilst others believed they would never be safe until the ring was
destroyed.  The council had been divided in the matter, but, in the end, it had
been decided that Frodo Baggins would take on the duties of a Ringbearer and the
responsibility of casting the cursed object into the fires of Orodruin.

Since the dismissal of the council, all of Imladris had been in uproar, for it
was known that the hobbit would need companions on his quest.  Nine had been the
number Elrond had designated for, what the lord called, the Fellowship of the
Ring.  There was to be one representative from each race of Middle-earth.  Of
these nine, four were already chosen; Frodo, of course, would bear the ring, and
Gandalf would lead the way.  Sam would not be content unless at his master’s
side, and Aragorn would also join them as part of his own journey.  At the
Istari’s persuasion, Elrond had chosen Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck to
also accompany their friends and companions.  To represent men, Boromir of
Gondor would go, and for the dwarves was Gimli, son of Gloin.  Which left the
matter of who would journey for the elves, who themselves were preparing to make
their way to the Undying Lands.

“Will you undertake this quest, Legolas?” Elrond asked, turning to the young
prince of Mirkwood seated in a plush, velvet chair within the lord’s study. 
Leaning on his desk, the Peredhel lord observed his eldest son’s lover in quiet
contemplation as Legolas debated with himself whether or not to accept the
proposal.  The prince sat slightly forwards in the chair, elbows on knees, hands
clasped together, head bent and hair shielding his face.  Legolas chewed
thoughtfully on his lower lip as he thought of Frodo and his burden of the One
Ring.

“Why choose me, Lord Elrond?” the blond finally asked after a measurable
silence.  Sapphire eyes lifted to meet a gray gaze, so similar to one Legolas
had drowned himself in numerous times over the last few centuries.  “Of all the
elves in company here now, today, why choose me?  My brothers…”

“Are in Mirkwood at this moment,” Elrond finished.  “And while the task of the
Ringbearer will not begin for yet another month, your brothers will not have the
courage, nor the energy, to accompany Frodo after journeying to Imladris.  You
are here now, Legolas, and I can think of no one more skilled for this quest. 
Nor anyone I would trust more.”

“You trust me more than one of your own children?”  Elrond sighed, understanding
why Legolas was being so inquisitive.  The long journey did not bother the
prince; he was experienced in traveling far from his home, or other elven
havens.  Nor was he frightened of the uncertain; the quest would be filled with
unexpected dangers, but Legolas would be able to overcome them all.  No, the
prince would accept the offer, but he need to know Elrond’s reasons behind the
his choice.  Silently, Elrond stepped away from his desk and claimed the seat
directly opposite Legolas.

“If I were to ask them, neither of my sons would decline the offer.  Both
Elladan and Elrohir would bravely face anything to see that Frodo accomplishes
his task.  I do not wish to risk their lives on this perilous journey.  Indeed,
I do not wish to risk your life either, for I know how much you mean to Elladan. 
Indeed, you mean a great deal to us all; you are as another son to me, and I do
not wish to see you harmed.  Nay, Legolas, I ask this of you for I know you
would bravely see to the safety of the hobbit.  He is in need of all the
guidance and guardianship he can find.”  

“Aye, this I understand.  And I accept this task, Lord Elrond.”

“Be safe, son of Thranduil.”  Slowly, Elrond reached over, closing the space
between them.  His fingers lightly brushed against the mithril ring that
encircled Legolas’ right ring finger; Elrond smiled as he felt the cool metal
beneath his touch, understanding the significance of the small token of love. 
“And come back to him.”  The prince smiled, gently clasping the hand of his
beloved’s father as he rose from his seat and made his exit from the study.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You agreed to join the Nine Walkers?!”  Elladan struggled to keep his voice
calm, but his efforts were in vain.  His eyes betrayed him, belying his sudden
rush of emotions even as his face and voice tried to remain impassive but failed
miserably.  Legolas stood a few feet away from where his lover sat on the bed,
keeping his eyes focused anywhere other than on the twin.  He knew Elladan
wouldn’t take the news lightly, would demand that he go back to Elrond and
withdraw his acceptance.  But the Peredhel knew the prince would never do so.

“Aye, I am joining them,” Legolas replied, clasping his hands behind him.

“Why, Legolas?”  Sapphire orbs lifted to fix upon Elladan’s face as lips worked
to form an answer to the twin’s question.

“It is my duty, Elladan.  I have accepted this task; I cannot turn my back on
the Ringbearer now.”  He let out a long, slow sigh as he watched Elladan’s
shoulder’s slump in defeat.  “I also represent our race on this quest, melme.”

“Ada could have chosen someone else.”  Legolas shook his head, tossing his
golden hair about him with the action.

“He could have, but he didn’t.  I understand how you are feeling, melethron; if
it were you who were to take this journey, I would not want you to go.  But it
is not your journey to undertake.  It is mine, and I will complete it.”  He
watched as Elladan closed his eyes, the twin’s slim hands wringing in his lap. 
His voice was quiet when he next spoke.

“May I have some time alone, melethron?  I would like to think about this, and I
fear that, while you are here, I might say something I will later regret.”  The
prince nodded, striding over to lay a tender kiss upon a dark crown before he
retreated to the door.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”  Elladan nodded as his lover left, softly closing
the door behind him.  With an exasperated sigh, he fell back upon his bed, dark
hair spraying out around him.  He silently prayed to the Valar that Legolas
would change his mind, but the Peredhel knew this plea would go unanswered.  The
youngest prince of Mirkwood had always been set in his ways; no amount of
pleading or persuasion would alter Legolas’ decision once his mind was set on a
course of action.  

Elladan knew that all he would be able to do would be to see Legolas off in a
loving manner, and pray that the prince would return to him safely.  But,
bringing himself to that state was a trial indeed, a trial he wondered if he was
prepared for.  Rolling over onto his side, he closed his eyes and thought hard
on the matter at hand.  The twin was afraid of losing his love, but knew the
importance of the quest at hand.

“Elbereth, this is so difficult,” he groaned.  He was in for a rough few hours
with his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Legolas?”  Mirkwood’s prince had been wandering the corridors aimlessly for the
last couple of hours after leaving Elladan alone to his thoughts.  He had not
noticed the sidelong glances of wonder in the faces of the people he passed due
to the melancholy air about him, nor had he realized that, to others, he seemed
gloomy and distraught.  Legolas had been lost in his musings, not paying
attention to what direction he was traveling in--not caring really.  He hadn’t
stopped at the sound of Elrohir’s voice; indeed, he had only stopped to face his
lover’s twin when a hand came to rest upon his shoulder.  “Legolas, are you all
right?” Elrohir asked, worry evident in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Elrohir,” Legolas replied, his voice a near whisper.  He tried
not to show his worry towards his friend and smiled in an attempt to quiet any
protests Elrohir might voice; he wasn’t very convincing.

“Come on, a walk will do you some good.”  Before the prince could react, the
twin had taken him by the arm and led Legolas out towards one of Elrond’s
private gardens.  The lord of Imladris had a few gardens that he tended to when
his duties didn’t eat away at his leisure time.  Often they were frequented by
his sons and seneschals, whenever one of them needed a peaceful place to think. 
It was one of these which Elrohir directed Legolas towards, and of which the
pair began to wander one of the winding paths.  “Now then, meldir,” Elrohir
said.  “Spill your troubles; I am here to listen.”

“It is the quest of the Ringbearer that troubles me,” Legolas said, knowing
there was no way the twin would leave him be until he voiced his concerns. 
“Your father has asked me to accompany Frodo to Mordor, and I have accepted.”

“I see.  And my brother is not taking the news very well.”  Legolas shook his
head.  “That is to be expected.”

“Should I have refused the offer?  I felt it was something I am supposed to do,
but now I’m not so sure.”  Elrohir patted his shoulder affectionately.

“Nay, you were just in accepting Ada’s proposal.  You felt it was your duty so
you accepted; you cannot turn your back on the hobbit now.”

“But, Elladan…”

“Cannot force you to change your mind.  He knows this.  Elladan may not like the
fact that you have accepted to become a part of this quest, but he will not keep
you from accomplishing your task either.  He understands the consequences of
this journey, we all do.  It is the consequences that worry him the most,
Legolas.  Elladan fears you might not live to return to him.”  Legolas was about
to speak, but Elrohir cut him off with a gesture of the hand.  “He will let you
go with the other Walkers.  But he needs to be reassured you will return. 
Elladan fears you will leave him just as our mother did.”

“I will not.”  The defiance in the sapphire eyes was evident; Elrohir allowed
himself a small smile upon spying the heated look.

“Then go and tell him that.”  The prince nodded, rushing back into the house and
leaving Elrohir in the gardens alone.  The twin sighed, seating himself on a
nearby stone bench.  He clasped his hands together in order to still the slight
tremble that had overtaken them.

/I can only imagine how Elladan must be feeling now.  I do not know what I would
have done if I learned my lover was to become part of such a dangerous quest./ 
Closing his eyes, one hand felt for the mithril ring that hung about Elrohir’s
neck; he clasped it tightly through his tunic, fisting the material.  Feeling
the ring gave him some measure of strength.  Taking a deep breath, Elrohir rose
from his seat and headed back to the manor to finish his duties for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Elladan?”

“Over here.”  At the sound of the quiet voice, Legolas shut the door to the
bedroom and wandered over the balcony; he took a moment to marvel at the sight
before him.  Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, Elladan seemed like a vision
from the past, valiant elves in stories his father used to tell him.  His dark
hair was set aglow, seeming to be set on fire against the pale gray of his
robes.  His skin became a rosy tint as the sunlight warmed the flesh.  Gray eyes
gazed out into the distance, spying the rainbow reflected off the spray of the
Bruinen.  Watching this beauty before him, Legolas prayed to the Valar that he
would return safely to this creature’s arms.

Sensing eyes upon his person, Elladan turned and offered a smile and a hand to
his flaxen-haired love.  Legolas took the hand, allowing himself to be drawn
into the warm circle of Elladan’s embrace.  He sighed softly, breathing in the
scent of pine as he buried his face into the dark hair.  Gentle fingers combed
through his pale golden locks; Legolas wanted this moment to last forever.

“I do not like the idea of you joining this quest,” Elladan whispered, kissing
the golden crown.  “But I will not keep you from your duty either.  Something
tells me that we will meet again before the final confrontation.  I only pray
that the day comes swiftly, and that you will be safe until then.”

“I will return to you, melethron.  I will sail into the West with you at my
side; I will not leave this world before then.”

“That is all I ask for.”  Legolas smiled and lifted his head from Elladan’s
shoulder to gaze into stormy orbs.  A slender hand cupped his cheek, bringing
him closer until his lips met the other’s.  They shared a kiss full of love and
hope for the future as the sun met the horizon, and night began to envelop the
valley.  They had some time before the Fellowship was to leave on its quest;
they would make the most of the lasting days to come.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Fellowship is leaving Imladris, and my heart is going with them.  I am
almost tempted to tear my eyes away from the sight of his golden hair passing
over the bridge, but I dare not.  This is the last I will see of him for many
weeks, maybe even months, to come.  I want this last image of my lover, my sun,
to stay with me until the day we are to be reunited.

Even now I wish my father had chosen someone else to represent the elves within
the gathering of the Nine Walkers.  But I know there is no one better for this
mission, no one who can equal his skill and cunning.  Even I would be a poor
substitute, though I would gladly take his place if it meant knowing he would
not see battle.  He is a warrior, however, and I cannot keep him from his
calling.  For I too know the sound of war, and I too must soon depart to answer
it.

He turns back once, his azure eyes glancing over the valley until they rest upon
me.  I am not the only one on the balcony, but I am the only one he sees.  I do
nothing but smile at him; the gesture is enough, for he smiles in return.  I see
his lips move, and I know what he is saying.  He tells me he loves me, that he
will return.  It is a promise he has made countless times in the last month, yet
I never tire of hearing his reassurance echoed time and again.  With another
loving smile, he turns and sprints to rejoin the others.

I begin to twist the ring upon my finger as he moves further and further away
from Imladris.  I remember watching him as he removed the ring from his finger
last night, choosing to wear it upon a chain about his neck for the journey.  He
said it was to keep me close to his heart, but we both knew it was also for
practicality’s sake.  I raise my hand, and lay a gentle kiss upon the band as if
I were kissing him instead.  Before he rounds a bend and disappears from sight,
I whisper words, knowing the wind will carry them to his ears before he is too
far away to hear.

“Nai tiruantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna, anor-nîn.  Im mela lle.”

Translations:
Melme-Love
Ada-Father
Melethron-Love/lover
Meldir-Friend
Nai tiruantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna, anor-nîn-May the Valar protect
you on your path , my sun
Im mela lle-I love you




Chapter 14: Journey to One’s Fall
Summary: Within the woods of Lothlorien, Legolas finds himself grieving for
Gandalf, and craving the comforting caresses of his lover; but there is someone
else who wishes for the touch of the elf (Boromir/Legolas; Legolas‘ POV,
Elladan‘s POV).

On any other occasion, it would have been a pleasure for me to visit Lothlorien,
the home of my lover’s mother.  But, at this particular time in my life, even
the Golden Wood cannot lift my spirits.  For we, the remaining members of the
Fellowship, are here now but without Mithrandir.  He was our guide, but he was
also a good deal more.  He was a friend to Aragorn and I, and perhaps more than
a friend to the Hobbits.  Now he is gone.

We’ve come this far, and all we have gained is less distance between us and
Mordor.  What we have lost is a beloved friend and comrade.  The loss, I feel,
overshadows the gain.  Though I will not pass into Mandos’ Halls, I still feel
grief over losing someone I have known, and known well.  I cannot even remember
how long it has been since I’ve met the Istar.  All I know for certain is that
I’ve known Mithrandir longer than I’ve known Elladan.  There is much that the
wizard has taught me about the world over the years.  He was a dear friend, and
I miss him.

The night is quiet as I wander among the mellyrn in silent contemplation.  Even
though I am mourning, I am not able to dismiss the serenity and comfort I feel
among the trees here.  It is a feeling I have always relished in during my
visits, and it lightens my heart.  But this visit is different from the rest;
the companions I bring with me are different.  They are not elves, not my
siblings or friends, but four little Hobbits, a Dwarf and two Men.  When was the
last time I was in the company of another elf?  In Imladris?  How long ago was
that?  It seems like years, but it was just a few months, I believe.  It must
feel like forever ago to the Hobbits perhaps.  Even for me, one who does not
particularly feel the passage of time, it seems as if I have not seen the valley
for many years.  My heart aches as I remember the last time I was there.

Haldir, my dear friend, has tried to comfort me since my arrival.  His brother,
Orophin, has tried harder; he knows best what it is I am feeling.  It is not
homesickness; though I do miss the Greenwood, I miss something more.  The touch
of a lover, the whispers of endearment; I miss them the most.  Of my friends in
Lorien, only Orophin knows the melancholy I feel, only he knows it best of the
three brothers.  For it is he who holds the heart of my lover’s twin; in such a
way, the pair of us have a great understanding of the other’s inner turmoil.  He
has tried to comfort me, but understands that it is not his company I crave. 
Thus, I walk alone beneath the mellyrn alone this night.

I do not venture far from my companions, staying within an elf’s listening
distance.  I must seem far away to the others since they are unable to hear or
see me, but they are very close from my standpoint.  We need each other’s
strength and company from this point on, but I crave some time alone for the
moment.  I will rejoin them later when I feel more composed and collected.  My
hand wanders up the front of my tunic, seeking for something hidden behind the
shimmering fabric.  The sudden feeling of being watched alerts me even before I
hear the snap of a twig.  I freeze in place before glancing over my shoulder to
see who is disturbing my quiet thoughts.  

I expected Aragorn or one of the Hobbits, but instead it is Boromir.  There is a
look in his eyes that I do not particularly like.  Humans have never frightened
me; my father has befriended many small human tribes and frequently trades goods
with them.  Most men that I have known have been honorable, much like Aragorn. 
But there are some with which my senses have screamed at me to be cautious and
alert should I be alone with them.  Boromir has never been one of those men;
even during our trifling argument in Elrond’s court, he seemed honorable.  But
now I find my intuition screaming at me to move.  There is a look in his eyes
this moment I find very…predatory.  I turn back and try to walk away, but his
voice forces me come to a to halt again.

“Wait, Legolas.”  My feet cease their moment, but I do not face him just yet. 
Why do I stop when he calls me?  Perhaps I feel compelled to.  Perhaps I feel
that my intuition is wrong, just this once.  I hope it is so.  Again I turn to
him; the hand previously searching my tunic drops slowly to my side.  Yet my
guard is up, just in case.  “You are grieving.”

I nod once.  “Aren’t you?”

It is his turn to nod.  “Do you wish for some company?”  I am tempted to refuse
him; I do not wish to share my grief with others.  It is not my nature to grieve
before others, even my lover.  I remain quiet as I consider how to answer.  He
takes my hesitation as an affirmative and steps closer.  I will myself not to
step back, not to seem affected by the closeness of his presence; my intuition
tells me to run but I dare not move yet.  “You grieve for Gandalf,” he says.

“We all do,” I reply.  “He was our guide on this quest, and a dear friend.”

“You knew him long?”  

I nod.  Long is an understatement really, I’ve known him much longer than the
others could ever dream.  “He always possessed a good ear.  And he always gave
wise council.  We elves were fond of the news he would bring us.  We will
forever grieve this loss.”  Silence passes between us.  I avert my eyes as I
feel the tendrils of mourning possess me again.  When he speaks again, I feel my
eyes drawn back to his face; I do not like the intense gaze he is giving me.  

“You miss more than just Gandalf,” he states.  It is becoming harder to suppress
the urge to run as Boromir takes another step closer.  His eyes are searching
mine for something; what is he looking for?  My hands clench into fists as I
force down a shudder and maintain eye contact.

“What are you implying, Boromir?”  He takes a third step forward; now he is too
close for my liking, and I step back.  Why is he pressing me like this?  What is
it he wants?  I cannot maintain eye contact with him any longer.  There is
something unsettling in Boromir’s eyes; it sends faint wisps of fright over my
skin.  I step back again as he steps forward, feeling the aged trunk of a
mallorn press against my back.  My eyes dart around, looking for a means to move
away.  But before I can act, Boromir closes the distance between us, pinning me
in place with his body.

“Do not fear me,” he whispers into my ear.  “I mean you no harm.  I have only
come to comfort you.”

“I am not in need of comfort.”  I raise my hands to push him away, a task easily
done had he not taken hold of wrists.  Jerking against his hands, I attempt to
free myself while not causing him too much injury.  Why do I suddenly feel so
panicked in his presence?  Just what is he wants that I am so unwilling to
comply with?  I look into his eyes, and realization dawns on me a little too
late.  “I think we should return to the others, Boromir.”  Again, I attempt to
free myself, this time applying more force to my movements.  But he unrelenting
and presses his body harder against mine, further pinning me between himself and
the tree.

“What are you frightened of?”  I can feel his warm breath against the skin of my
neck, and I shiver at the unwanted contact of his lips just grazing my skin.  “I
have no intention of hurting you.  I only want to give you comfort and ease your
pain.”

“There is no need.”

“Why do you deny me?”  He has raised his voice slightly, whether it is due to
frustration or anger I cannot tell.  I do not want to stay and find out.

“Because this is not what I want!  Now kindly let me go.”  Something primal
flashes in his eyes.  His movements are more feral now as he attempts to rid me
of my clothing.  I am soon grappling with him, trying to prevent him from
getting what he wants, and what all elves fear.  I cannot let him have his way
with me--I will not!  I am no maiden who would succumb to his charms and sweet
voice.  I am an elf, a prince, a warrior, and I have already pledged myself to
another.  I will not betray my lover, unwillingly or no.  I will not allow
another to possess me against my will and travel to Mandos’ Halls before my
time!

He is having a difficult time restraining me, his movements becoming more
frenzied as he becomes more desperate.  But he is unable to subdue me.  Elves
are more slender in shape, more fragile looking than men.  But we possess a
greater strength and can easily overwhelm those who try to restrain us.  I know
I can do a great deal of injury to Boromir should I wish.  But he, like I, am
part of this Fellowship to protect Frodo; harming him to incapability is not an
option for me.  I strike out, one of my fists pummeling against his chest with
enough force for him to release me.  Boromir issues a pained wheeze and staggers
a few steps back even as he succeeds in opening my tunic.  

The moonlight streaming in through the leaves overhead glitters upon the mithril
ring around my neck.  The sight of my beloved’s gift seems to freeze him in his
tracks; his eyes transfix themselves upon the simple piece of jewelry.  Does it
remind him of the ring Frodo carries?  I do not stay to ponder the matter.  The
moment he releases me, I run and disappear into the trees.  I hear him call
after me but I do not respond, nor do I cease my running.  I have always
suspected that he was being tempted by the Ring.  What did it promise him? 
Fame?  Glory?  The throne of Gondor?  Me?  I shudder to think of the
possibilities and what might have passed between us.

I run back towards the others, towards camp.  But I am unable to tell if I am
going in the right direction for tears have welled up in my eyes; my other
senses, however, assure me I am on the right path as I can no longer see once
the tears begin to fall.  I raise an arm to wipe them away, and end up colliding
with another body.  Strong arms gently wrap themselves about me as a soothing
voice whispers into my ear.

“Legolas, meldir.”  It is Orophin.  Hearing a shuffle from behind him, I raise
my eyes to see Haldir and Rumil gazing back at me with concerned looks upon
their faces.  I feel a tug at my hand; when I glance down, there is Gimli with a
similar concerned look.  My mind barely registers the amazement at finding the
three Galadhrim in the Dwarf’s company before I give in to the sobs that are
beginning to overwhelm my body.  Sinking against Orophin, I grip his tunic in a
white-knuckled hold, and bury my face into his shoulder to hide my tears.

Oh Elladan!  How I need you know.  How I wish you were here and holding me. 
Elbereth, please, let me be reunited with my moon soon.  I need him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gimli blinked in disbelief as he watched Legolas being consumed by his grief,
the elf sinking bonelessly against Orophin as the Galadhrim whispered words of
comfort in the elvish tongue.  The dwarf wasn’t yet ready to admit it, but he
respected Legolas for his prowess and strength in battle.  The archer’s accurate
aim saved them all during the trek through Moria, and he was beginning to learn
things about Legolas that contradicted Gimli’s earlier feelings toward elves in
general.

Upon noticing his companion missing from the campsite, Gimli had gone looking
for Legolas but quickly became lost in the woods of Lorien.  Unexpectedly, he
had run into Haldir and his brothers, the very same elves who almost refused the
Fellowship admittance into the Golden Wood because of Gimli’s presence among
them.  The dwarf was about to tell them off in both the common tongue and that
of the dwarves, but decided not to upon learning the three were also looking for
Legolas.  Deciding it best to go along with the brothers, Gimli was not all that
surprised to learn they were old friends with the archer from Mirkwood.  It had
been a surprise to learn that both Legolas and Haldir’s eldest kinsmen had each
fallen for one of Elrond’s sons.  Gimli had never realized his elven companion
had someone other than family waiting for him to return from this quest.

“Will he be all right?” the dwarf tentatively asked the nearest Galadhrim. 
Rumil bestowed upon him a small smile, and patted Gimli’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Aye, Master Dwarf, he will be,” the youngest brother replied.  “Our young
prince here can be rather emotional at times, but he would never dare let his
feelings show in his outward appearance.  He will be touchy with us for the next
few days when he comes to his senses and realizes we have seen him cry.”  Gimli
nodded as he continued to watch Orophin comfort Legolas.  He reminded himself
later to speak with the archer on a number of matters.

/He could use a friend right about now,/ Gimli thought.  /And I intend to be
that friend./  He frowned slightly at the thought.  A dwarf befriending an elf? 
Unheard of!  But not impossible.  /This friendship just might work./

~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t sleep.  The night is clear and the watchmen are wide awake; there is
nothing that should trouble me.  Yet my mind is troubled, though I cannot place
my finger on the source of the uneasiness I feel.  I cannot remain still any
longer.  Rising from my bedroll, I deftly pass my brother and the company of
sleeping Dunedain to find a quiet spot for myself.  Passing Halbarad as he keeps
watch, I find a large smooth rock in a partially secluded area that allows me a
view of the clear night sky.  It is just large enough to accommodate my frame as
I stretch out on my back upon the aged stone.  Staring up at the Ithil and the
stars, I allow my mind to drift.

It has been months since my sun left Imladris to travel with the Fellowship on
their quest.  Not long afterwards, Elrohir and I rode to the Redhorn Pass to
make sure the passage was safe for all those who wished to travel through. 
Sometime later, we rode to the borders of the Shire to accompany the Northern
Dunedain in watching the little people; Estel had feared that since Frodo
possessed the Ring, harm might come to his homeland.  Thus far, nothing has
happened, and the Dunedain have talked about turning back to Imladris for some
rest and to ask Ada for a bit of guidance.   Elrohir is happy about the prospect
of returning home, even for a short stay.  I suppose I am as well.

But my mind is elsewhere, wherever he is.  I wonder how far Legolas and the
Fellowship have traveled by now.  Surely they are past Hithaeglir at this point;
how far South have they journeyed?  Lorien?  They might be in Gondor now, if
speed was with them.  I pray to Elbereth that, wherever they are, the Valar are
keeping them safe.

I sigh deeply as I feel the night air caress my exposed skin, playing with my
hair.  Legolas…how do you fare?  What troubles have you seen and what awaits
you?  When you accepted my father’s proposal to join the Fellowship, did you
intend to stop at Minas Tirith, or accompany Frodo Baggins all the way to
Oroduin?  I fear for you, melme; I fear for us both.  The future is uncertain at
this point.  Tomorrow is an uncertainty, and each day after that brings upon us
more troubles and questions.  But know that I love you, and I always will.

My ring glitters in the moonlight as I raise my hand to gaze at the band; it
seems to shine more brightly when I think of you, and that brings a smile to my
face.  Legolas, ithil-nîn, wherever you are I will always be with you.  I miss
you terribly, and wish for the day we will be reunited to come quickly.  But,
until then, until the day I am able to bind myself to you, my soul will be where
you are.  Have faith in us, in me; I will always protect you.  Trust in the
promise that binds us.  I will see you again.

Translations:
Meldir-Friend
Ada-Father
Hithaeglir-Sindarin for Misty Moutains
Melme-Love
Ithil-nîn-My moon




Chapter 15: Path to Rohan
Summary: On the way to meet Aragorn in Rohan, Elladan speaks with his brother on
the matter of their mortality, and what is to be done once the war is over.

The path before the riders was clear of obstacles, though vision was obscured. 
Of the group of thirty, only two were able to pick their way through the
darkness with ease; as such, they acted as guides to the rest of the company. 
Different were they from the others, tall and fair-skinned, their hair dark and
their faces identical.  The twin sons of Elrond rode in silence, heads covered
by the thick material of their cloaks, stormy gray eyes scanning the open plains
before them.  They rode slightly ahead of their Dunedain friends, and close to
each other‘s sides to share a whispered conversation or two.

The group made for Edoras, the seat of power in the land of Rohan.  There they
were to meet with Aragorn and accompany him wherever he should choose to go:
these were the instructions they had been given in Imladris.  They also carried
messages from both their father and sister to the future King of Men.  The twins
had opted to travel with their Northern companions and see through the battles
yet to come; it was their calling in life, and they answered it without
question.  But, it was not the up-and-coming battles that weighed heavily upon
the twins’ minds.  It was something else.

“How much further do you think?” Elrohir asked his brother in a whisper meant
only for Elven ears.  Elladan rode quietly for a moment as he judged the
distance before answering.  The plains opened before him, tall grass gently
swaying in the night breeze.  Other than the horses trotting through the grass
and the soft breathing of the steeds and their riders, there was no other sound
to be heard.  The sky overhead was clear and the weather fair, allowing one to
glimpse the stars for miles, though their light helped little; it seemed as if
something darker kept the lands of the horse lords hidden.  Unless the dark
forces should otherwise conspire against the riders, they were making good time
through the lands of Rohan.

“Another day’s ride or so.  I believe we can reach Edoras by tomorrow evening,
but we will need to rest soon for the night.  The horses need to be unburdened
for a time, and our friends could do with a little sleep and some food.  We too
could do with a little rest.”

Elrohir nodded in answer, and, for a time, the brothers rode on in companionable
silence.  Behind them they could hear the Dunedain riding quietly, keeping pace
with the twins; occasionally they stole whispered conversations with one another
as they traveled the plains.  “Gwanur, there is something we must discuss,”
Elrohir finally said.

Elladan sighed deeply, closing his eyes momentarily.  “Aye, I know.  We cannot
put this off for much longer.”

“Ada will be leaving with the others, there is no doubt about that.  Once the
war is over and peace has returned, he will take ship and sail for the Grey
Havens.  There is no question that Arwen will be staying; our sister’s heart
belongs to Estel, and she will not leave these shores while he yet resides
here.”  Elrohir paused for a moment while observing his brother nod in response. 
“So then, what of us?  What would you decide?”

“I know not.  And I shall not decide until I know your heart.”

“I know not my own heart at this time.”  The silence that settled in was not
comfortable.  There was a slight tension in the air as each twin tried to seek
out his soul’s wish.  “I do not want to be separated from you, Elladan,” Elrohir
finally spoke.

“Nor do I want to be separated from you.  We are twins, Elrohir.  We share a
soul and a mind; we are linked, and forever will be, though we may be different
people.  We have our own lovers, who we shall follow if they ever travel to
Mandos’ Hall.  But I fear I will also seek the Halls of Waiting should you
journey there before I.”

“I too am of the same mind, gwanur.  Whatever we decide, we must make the same
conclusion.”  Elladan nodded in agreement but said nothing more on the matter as
he called a halt.  The Dunedain reined their horses to a stop, dismounting and
making camp in a near silence.  Out in the open, they knew they were vulnerable
to an attack should it come, but they did not plan to tarry long.

Throughout the night the twin Peredhil kept watch, one sometimes slipping into
the realm of dreams while the other relieved his brother.  They spoke no more on
the matter concerning their mortality; they first needed to search the depths of
their hearts before they would be able to voice their convictions.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night passed much the same as the first, though much clearer, allowing
the twins and the Dunedain to make better time in their travel.  Thus the
Northern Rangers were allowed to ride almost side-by-side with their elven
companions, but the sons of Elrond afforded themselves a little pace ahead for
some means of privacy.  They had things to discuss that did not require the
input of their mortal friends, no matter how much they were loved.  Again, it
was Elrohir who broke the silence between the brothers, though his question was
of a slightly different nature that night.

“Has the Lord Thranduil spoken about whether or not he will take ship?”

Elladan arched a delicate eyebrow at the question.  “Not that I have heard.  I
do not know whether or not the King of Mirkwood will sail with our father and
grandmother, or if he will delay his departure if he journeys at all.  Why do
you ask?”

“A simple reason, gwanur.  Legolas might very well choose to stay and rule his
people should his father and brothers choose to sail to Valinor.  Will that not
make your decision more difficult?”

“So it shall.  But what of you?  I find it highly likely that Orophin will take
one of the first ships.  I know your feelings for our Galadhrim friend, Elrohir. 
You care for him, love him deeply.  You will surely pass from this world should
you be separated from him for an eternity.”

Elrohir sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.  “Our decision is not an easy
one.  Why must we decide at all?” 

“We are the Peredhil, gwanur,” Elladan’s lore master side reasoned in a calm and
even tone.  “Our grandmother made her choice; our father and uncle made theirs,
as did our sister.  It is now our turn to choose which race we wish to be
counted amongst.
“The blood of three races of Elves, of Men and the blood of a Maia courses
through our veins.  We are unique among the races, exotic compared to others. 
But, really, we are no different.  We are family, we have lovers, we live our
lives as we see fit.  True, this choice before us is more life-altering than any
we have had to make up to this point.  However, it is nothing more than that: a
choice.  The only difficultly is, what will we choose?”

“I do not wish to be separated from you,” Elrohir confessed.  “Nor do I wish to
be separated from Orophin, for you are the other half of my soul, yet he holds
my heart.  You are in the same situation since Legolas holds your heart.  
“Thus, I see this dilemma: should Orophin sail and Legolas not, you and I will
be torn since we will not separate ourselves.  Yet, should they both sail, I am
reluctant to join them until our foster-brother and sister have lived their
lives and passed from this world.”

“Aye, I too came to the same conclusions.  Yet there is another thought I have
had that you might have missed.  Legolas is in love with the woods and the
forest now, but the future is uncertain.  It is said that once the Sindar hear
the call of the Sea, they can no longer deny it.  Grandmother‘s message to the
prince troubles me.”

“I have thought of that, though you may not have realized it, Elladan.  I
believe grandmother is foretelling his leaving of these shores.”

“Then we are of the same mind.”  As with the previous night, silence fell upon
them.  “Elrohir?”

“I am thinking the same, gwanur.”

“Immortality then?”

“Aye.  Our hearts shall sail over the Sea, and we shall follow them.”

“But not before we have seen our sister and brother live their lives to the
fullest.  That shall be our last remaining task once this war is over.”

Elrohir nodded as the pair gazed up at the stars and, together, spoke the words
their father spoke years before.

“I ónoni Elrondo Pereldarioní, cilmmë nótinë míca Eldar sin nório.  Nan cilmmë
erin falassellon Ardo, tuluvammë nossëmma m' i nórí Valaron. ”  Overhead, the
stars brightened after receiving their admission; whispers sounded behind the
twins as the Dunedain noticed the change and remarked upon it.  The twins shared
a smile, their hearts feeling lighter now that their choice was made.  They
would sail to the Undying Lands when their time came, not sooner, not later. 
For now, though, they had another task at hand.

“Edoras is near,” Elladan remarked over his shoulder.  “Let us join our
brothers-in-arms before the night is out.”  A quick, answering shout from the
Dunedain was heard before the party urged their steeds onward.  The alliance
against the Dark Lord would be strengthen before the night was out, and with
them would ride the sons of Elrond, strengthen in their resolve and decision. 
They would not falter nor fail in their quest.  They would see it through to the
end.

Translations:
Gwanur-Brother
Ada-Father
I ónoni Elrondo Pereldarioní, cilmmë nótinë míca Eldar sin nório.  Nan cilmmë
erin falassellon Ardo, tuluvammë nossëmma m' i nórí Valaron-We, the twin sons of
Elrond Peredhel, choose to account ourselves among the Firstborn of this land. 
Though we choose to tarry longer on the shores of Middle-earth, we will join our
kindred within the land of our makers (Quenya)




Chapter 16: Before the War
Summary: The lovers are reunited and spend the night under the stars, sharing
whispered promises and heartfelt caresses, and dreading the day to come yet
welcoming it all the same (slash).

Valar, it felt like forever since he last saw him!  Once the group of Northern
Dunedain had finally caught up with Estel and the company of Rohan, Elladan was
at last allowed to be reunited with Legolas.  How he had missed him!  Not even a
full year had passed since they parted, and that to an elf is nothing.  At the
same time, however, it felt like forever to Elladan.  He had spent many a night
worrying over how Legolas was faring on the journey and whether or not he had
helped Frodo complete the quest they were sent out on.

The lovers were reunited now, yet they were not yet allowed their time alone. 
There was much that the twins needed to discuss with Estel, messages from their
father, sister and grandmother they needed to relate and instructions to give. 
There was still work to be done against the evil growing stronger in the land. 
But, at the same time, those against the Dark Lord needed much rest before they
would possess the strength to complete their work.

“Then the Paths of the Dead is the road we must take?” Estel said during the
private discussion he was having with the twins alone.  “Ada suggest that to be
the best route?  ‘Tis is a perilous road.”

“Aye, it is,” Elladan replied.  “Only you have the power to command the dead
that reside there, Estel.  It is the shortest distance from here, and a path in
which you can gather a great number of warriors at one time.”

“But who would follow me into such a path?”

“We would,” Elrohir said.  “You are our foster-brother and a dear friend; we
would follow you to the end.  The Dunedain would follow, for you are their
chief; and certainly Legolas and Gimli will not abandon you after traveling in
your company this far.”

“You are both right.  The Rohirrim will ride forth towards Gondor of their own
accord while we take the more perilous route.  Come then, let us take out rest
tonight.  Tomorrow will be an eventful day at the very least.”  

The twins nodded their agreement before parting from his company.  Halbarad and
the other Dunedain had already set up camp and constructed a fire, which
everyone was gathered around for warmth.  Rations for the night were being
passed around as the twins joined them, followed shortly after by Estel.  The
company spent the evening in quiet whispers; the center of their conversation
was the path they should take to get to Gondor and the final confrontation with
the Dark Lord.

Elladan, though, spent most of the evening giving his lover sidelong glances;
most of the time, he also caught Gimli staring at him and often had to look
away, embarrassed.  The Dwarf thought long and hard about the glances he saw
being shared between his friend and the eldest son of Elrond.  Come to think of
it, he had also seen similar looks during his stay at Imladris; he wondered what
it all meant.

“Legolas,” the Dwarf said, turning to his companion.  “Is there something going
on between you and Elrond’s son?”

“Why, of course, my friend,” Legolas said very casually as he nibbled on a wafer
of lembas.  “We have been friends for nearly five hundred years.  We’ve gone
hunting, riding, traveling, almost everything together.  Elrohir and I are very
close friends, almost brothers.”

“Is that one Elrohir?”  Gimli, not being able to tell the twins apart, simply
pointed at Elladan and watched as Legolas’ gaze followed his finger.

“Nay, ’tis Elladan, his elder brother.”

“All right then, what is your relationship with him?”  Gimli huffed; was the elf
actually blushing?  Always composed and poised, Legolas was actually feeling
embarrassed?  What was the world coming to?!

“Well…um…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how to say this…”

The Dwarf was getting rather impatient with all the evasive statements his elf
friend was making.  “So just say it!”

“I…I think I’m going to go clean up a bit.”  And, with that, Legolas jumped to
his feet in no time at all and all but dashed from Gimli’s side.  The Dwarf was
left in utter confusion with a snickering Aragorn for company.

“Did I say something wrong?”  

“No, nothing at all, Gimli,” Aragorn replied, stifling the rest of his laughter.

“Indeed, you did nothing but embarrass our fair Mirkwood elf,” Elrohir said as
he came to claim the spot Legolas just vacated.  “Which, might I add, is a fair
accomplishment in itself.”

“Just what did I say to embarrass him?” Gimli asked, turning to pin Elladan with
his gaze.  

The eldest son of Elrond swallowed thickly as the dark gaze fixated upon his
person.  He squirmed under the intense look and felt the heat rise to his cheeks
as Aragorn and Elrohir turned to look at him as well.  Hastily, Elladan got to
his feet and smoothed out his tunic in a nervous manner.  “I…um…think I’ll go
clean up a bit.”

“You elves are always cleaning yourselves up,” Gimli replied while puffing on
his pipe.  “A little dirt and grime isn’t going to hurt you.”  The Dwarf huffed
again as Elrohir rolled his eyes, while his twin attempted to defend himself.

“We have been riding for days, Master Dwarf.”

“And we’ve been running for days, not to mention fighting stinking Uruk-Hai in
near darkness, with rain pouring throughout the night.”

Elladan sputtered, not quite knowing how to respond.  He had his own intentions
for leaving, but wasn’t about to let the Dwarf know what they were.  He shot
Aragorn a piercing glance when the Dunedan burst into a fit of uncontrollable
laughter.  “I will grant you the benefit of the doubt, Master Dwarf.  But I am
still in need of some cleaning up.”

“So what are you still doing here?!” Elrohir exclaimed, throwing a half-eaten
wafer of lembas at his twin, who narrowed missed the flying projectile.  “Get on
with it and stop standing around arguing, conversing, implying…whatever in the
Valar’s name you are doing!  Go to it already!”  The younger twin batted some
hair out of his eyes as Elladan took off in the direction Legolas had previously
left in.  

Gimli was left looking quite confused as Elrohir stood and retrieved the lembas,
muttering something about his twin losing half his wits at birth, and Aragorn
burst into a new round of laughter.  “Did I miss something?” the Dwarf asked,
scratching the coarse hair upon his head.

“Nay Gimli,” Aragorn replied through snickers as Elrohir reclaimed his seat and
bit into his wafer.  “Just a little brotherly banter is all.  This happened
quite often in the past.”  He snickered again as Elrohir rolled his eyes and
said something about an understatement.  It was then that Gimli decided that,
though he had came to appreciate elves, he would never understand them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Elladan, by this time, had successfully made his way out of the camp and towards
a small nearby stream; he reminded himself to both thank and throttle Elrohir
later for the exchange that had occurred between them.  His twin had nearly
given away the comings and goings of what went on between the eldest son of
Elrond and the youngest prince of Mirkwood, something Elladan did not want Gimli
to be aware of yet.  

He wasn’t afraid of any disapproving remarks the Dwarf would make; in fact, if
Gimli even uttered a word against their relationship, Elladan would make sure he
lived to regret it.  No, it was more along the lines that the Peredhel didn’t
have the energy at the moment to put up with all the teasing Gimli could
possibly rain down on the pair.  Plenty of time later for teasing; right now
Elladan was more interested in resting with his lover.

Rounding a tree, Elladan suddenly found himself braced against the rough trunk
as a pair of lips claimed his hungrily and eager hands roamed the front of his
tunic.  He moaned wantonly as he returned the caresses, remembering familiar
peaks and plateaus whilst wrestling with the all too demanding tongue that
sparred with his own.

“What took you so long?” Legolas asked breathlessly as they parted, before his
lips claimed the point of an ear.

“Master Dwarf demanded an argument from me before I was allowed my leave,”
Elladan replied, leaning into the touch and drawing his love closer.  “Remember
when you arrived at Imladris?”

Legolas allowed himself a sly smile as he bit lightly into his lover’s ear and
elicited a sigh from Elladan.  “How could I forget, ithil-nîn?  Did you enjoy
the greeting?”  Legolas gasped as suddenly the prince of Mirkwood found himself
turned and his back pressing against the tree he had previously trapped Elladan
against.

“Allow me to ‘greet’ you this time, anor-nîn.”

“How?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”  Slender hands made quick work of the
prince’s garments as well as his own, tossing the clothing aside as they were
slipped from arms and legs.  Gently, Elladan guided them towards the ground
until Legolas was lying upon the grass with the eldest twin kneeling between his
knees.  The Peredhel took a moment to admire the beauty he had fallen in love
with just over five hundred years ago.

“Like what you see?” Legolas asked teasingly as he observed the darkening orbs
of his lover.

“Very much so.  But I like touching even more.”  Just as he finished speaking,
Elladan’s hands began to wander over the pale thighs of his love; he allowed his
fingertips to dance over the skin, moving from knees to hips in swirling
patterns.  He kept his eyes trained on his lover’s chiseled features during his
ministrations, a faint smile gracing his lips.

At the warm touches bestowed upon him, Legolas moaned and closed his eyes,
drowning in the long-missed contact.  “Ithil-nîn…”

“Here.”  Elladan leaned forward, pressing a ghost of a kiss upon Legolas’ lips;
he bestowed butterfly kisses upon the prince’s cheeks, eyelids, neck and
collarbones as his hands busily pleasured his love with faint touches.  He knew
the light contact was driving Legolas mad, and he delighted in seeing the
frustration etched upon that beautifully flushed face.  Soon, however, Elladan
too was growing impatient.  Licking his lips, he moved lower and, with a swift
motion, claimed Legolas’ sex entirely with his mouth.

Legolas suppressed a scream at the heated cavern engulfing his erection.  Biting
down sharply upon his lower lip, his hands strayed to the dark tresses of the
twin, fingers tangling within the silken strands.  Gasps and moans of pleasure
and delight fled his parted lips as he felt himself being taken by that luscious
mouth of his lover’s.  “Elladan…please, don’t stop.”  He raised his hips,
seeking to press himself deeper into that warm cavern, but a grunt of
frustration sounded as firm hands held him in place.

“Easy, melme,” Elladan whispered after releasing Legolas for a moment.  “Just a
bit longer.”  His tongue flickered over the head of his lover’s erection then
swirled down to the base and back up again.  Elladan repeated the procedure a
few more times before, feeling Legolas about to climax, he swallowed the sex
whole and sucked hard.  

Not a moment had passed before the prince reached orgasm, spilling his seed down
his love’s throat; Elladan followed soon after, releasing himself into the grass
before letting Legolas’ lax member slip from his mouth.  Crawling forward, he
lay down next to his lover and bestowed gentle kisses upon Legolas’ face.  The
prince smiled and snuggled, feeling strong arms encircling his waist.  They lay
together quietly for some time, relishing the breeze that cooled their heated
skin and the warmth radiating from one another.

“You know,” Legolas mumbled from Elladan’s shoulder.  “We ought to head back
soon before Gimli decides to come and investigate why it’s taking us so long to
bathe.”

Elladan groaned.  “You’re right, I wouldn’t want him catching us like this.”

“Afraid he’ll object, ithil-nîn?”

“Nay, I’m afraid of all the teasing that will follow.  ‘Why Master Elladan, why
didn’t you say you had a thing for the prince here?  Comely, isn’t he?  Come
now, there’s no reason to blush.  It’s just mutual, attraction.  It is mutual
isn’t it?  Are you blushing again?’”  Elladan rolled his eyes as Legolas let
loose a fit of laughter.  Once he had calmed down, the pair shared a kiss before
rising to their feet and heading to the nearby stream to bathe.  Upon getting
cleaned, dried and dressed properly again, the lovers took a moment to share an
embrace before rejoining the others.  The war was about to start; they hoped
this wouldn’t be the last time they would be together.

Translations:
Ada-Father
Ithil-nîn-My moon
Anor-nîn-My sun
Melme-Love




Chapter 17: Midst of Battle
Summary: Legolas loses sight of his love during battle and fear grips him.

The black ships moved steadily upstream against the current on the river Anduin,
thanks to the rowers down in the lower decks and the favorable breeze that blew. 
Manwë was aiding them, aiding the union of the race of Men against the black
creatures of the Dark Lord.  The rowers, in the deepest bowels of the vessels,
were pulling the oars with all the strength they had; they were Men, captured
from Gondor when they were just boys, but now they were free.  Their King had
come for them.  With that knowledge in mind, they set themselves to the task of
bearing their savior and his companions to Minas Tirith, and to the end of fear
and tyranny.

The breeze was pleasant as it buffeted the slender form of the Prince of
Mirkwood, whipping through his hair and sending it in golden streams behind him. 
He looked ahead and up the river to the battlefields that awaited them all.  But
all he could hear was the crying of the gulls back in Pelargir, calling to him
to sail the Sea and visit the Undying Lands.  Legolas couldn’t resist the urge,
the temptation to set sail.  He would not do so yet as there were far too many
things left for him to do; one day, however, the time would come.  A time would
soon arrive in which he would set foot on board a ship, and never again see
Middle-earth.

The thought of leaving his homeland saddened the Prince a little.  Looking about
the deck, he gazed at each of his gathered companions to distract himself. 
There was Aragorn with Halbarad and a few other Dunedain quietly discussing the
forthcoming battle.  Other Dunedain were spread about, some signaling to the
other ships and their companions, others joking and laughing amongst themselves
as their cleaned and readied their weapons.  Seated and leaning against the mast
was Elrohir; his head was bent low, raven hair obscuring his face from view. 
Legolas guessed that the younger twin was dozing, catching up on sleep after a
hard ride from the Stone of Erech and the battle at Pelargir so that he would be
ready at the Pelennor Fields.  Not far from the twin was Gimli, humming some
Dwarvish songs while fixing the notches in his axes as best as he could manage. 
But there was no sign of…

“Anor-nîn?”

Legolas smiled and turned to the voice just as the wind picked up, golden hair
obscuring his vision.  He felt a warm arm twine about his waist and a gentle
kiss upon his brow as Elladan brushed his hair aside.  Leaning against his
lover, Legolas sighed contently as the pair embraced quietly.  No one seemed to
notice, or did not show it if they did.  The lovers were left to their own
devices with some measure of privacy.

“Is there something troubling you?” Elladan asked quietly, hands weaving through
golden hair.  “You seem sullen and disturbed.  It is not the war, is it?”

“Nay, it is not.”  Legolas fell quiet for a moment, drawing a breath before
speaking again.  “I heard the cry of the gulls at Pelargir.”

Elladan understood quickly.  A change had come over his lover ever since the
band had left Pelargir for Minas Tirith.  There was a certain longing in the
blue eyes Elladan had only seen in his father’s gaze as of late.  “You feel the
Sea calling to you.  The Sea longing has awakened.”  He felt Legolas nod against
his shoulder, and he pulled the Prince closer.  Elladan dipped his head a bit to
kiss the golden crown and whisper into a pointed ear.  “Will you heed the call? 
Will you sail with the rest when the time comes?”

“Nay, I cannot.”

“Why?”

Legolas lifted his head from his lover’s shoulder to stare into the storm gray
eyes whilst he spoke.  “There are still things I need to attend to, unfinished
business that needs to be done.  I will not sail until my duties are complete no
matter how strong the calling becomes.  I cannot leave Aragorn whilst he lives. 
There is much to be done once this war is finished, and I fear he will need as
much help and advice as he can muster.  He is a dear friend and I wish to stay
at his side should he need me, whilst he yet lives in this world.”

“Then you will stay until he passes from this world?”

The Prince nodded as his voice fell to a hushed whisper.  “And I will not leave
you behind.”

“Legolas, I…”  Elladan was unable to tell his lover about his vow as Aragorn
beckoned him over, seeking his advice.  Reluctantly he pulled away, laying a
kiss upon Legolas’ temple as he passed to join the future King and Halbarad.  

Legolas watched him go, half-afraid of Elladan’s unfinished statement.  What was
he about to say?  Did it have to do with his choice?  The Prince was frightened
of what the twin would tell him, praying to the Valar to not let them be
separated.  The Sea calling was strong in him, but he would not give into it. 
There was still too much to do.  He could not leave.  Not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Legolas?  Lad, are you all right?”

“Aye, Gimli.  I am fine.”

“You don’t look it.  Rather a bit paler than usual if you ask me.  Have you been
eating at all lately?”

Legolas allowed himself a smile at his friend’s concern and compassion.  It
wasn’t far now to the Pelennor Fields; just a few more minutes and they would
see the lay of the land.  The Dunedain were beginning to assemble as the ships
drew nearer, Legolas and Gimli among them.  The twins and Aragorn were making
some last minute preparations in one of the lower holds.  The Elf and the Dwarf
stood watching the land move by as they awaited the moment of battle.

“Legolas?”

“Oh, forgive me, Gimli.  What did you say?”

The Dwarf gave a frown as he observed his friend closer.  “Come now, lad.  Tell
me what’s troubling you.  Your mind is not focused on the battle ahead, and that
could cost you.  So let’s hear it.  Best get things off your chest now while you
have the chance.”

“It is nothing, Gimli.  There is no need to be concerned.”

“Nothing you say?  I shall judge for myself if it is nothing.  Now tell me what
it is before I am forced to draw it out of you, which you well know I am capable
of.”

The Elf gave a musical laugh at the good-natured mockery directed at him.  Gimli
scowled for a moment, but amusement was clearly shining within his dark eyes. 
“You have come to read the mannerisms of Elves quite clearly during this
journey, my friend.”

“Perhaps, but I still do not understand you.  Now talk and let us see if we
cannot fix whatever it is that is amiss.”

Legolas paused a moment to determine how he should put his concern into words,
and in as short as time as possible.  The battlefield was looming ahead, there
was no time to go into lengthy details.  “It is about Elladan.”

“Ah, yes.  I was wondering about when you would come around to telling me about
you two.”  The Dwarf smiled at seeing the faint tinge of a blush stain his elven
friend’s face.

“You knew?”

“I guessed.  Now, what about the young master?”

“Lord Elrond is sailing soon.  Elladan and Elrohir must make a choice soon.”

“A choice, you say?”

The Elf nodded.  “A choice of whether to go and retain immortality…or stay and
forsake their elven heritage.”

“’Tis a difficult choice indeed,” Gimli said after a moment’s pause for
contemplation.  “And you are worried he will stay?  Well, lad, it seems to me
from what little I know of Master Elladan that he will make a choice he feels
best suits him.”

“Gimli?”  Legolas could not determine what his friend was trying to say, but he
patiently waited for Gimli to continue.

“Master Elladan is no child, lad.  He can decide for himself what choices are
best for him, what paths he will walk down in his life.  It appears to me that
he is not some little tyke who is so eager to please someone that he will make a
reckless decision, thereby possibly endangering himself and causing others
distress.  Nay, lad, he will weigh all the options and pick the best for him…and
the best for you, I daresay.”

“I don’t understand.”  He blinked when a look of indignation appeared on Gimli’s
face.

“Don’t understand?  Now see here, Legolas.  The young master loves you, does he
not?  Clearly he knows what will happen to you should anything happen to him. 
If he loves you as much as you love him then there is no question that he will
do anything to keep you out of harm’s way.  Put more faith into the other half
of your heart, Legolas.  Now stop worrying and get your bow ready.  I don’t want
some sulking, worrisome Elf watching my back this day.”  And with that, Gimli
turned his attention to Pelennor as the fields came closer into view, the sounds
of battle reaching their ears.

Legolas smiled thankfully at his friend and offered Gimli a gentle pat on the
shoulder.  The Dwarf said nothing but muttered something about not worrying as
Aragorn and the twins appeared out of the lower holds to join the others.  As
the future King and the younger twin stood and gazed out fixedly at Pelennor,
Elladan shifted to Legolas’ side.  Wordlessly, he sought out the archer’s hand
and gave it a light squeeze.  Legolas smiled faintly at the gesture before
returning it, and placing a gentle kiss upon his lover’s temple.

“I love you, ithil-nîn,” the Prince whispered.  

“I love you as well,” Elladan replied.  “We’ll make it through this.”

Legolas nodded, willing himself to believe the simple statement.  There was no
reason they wouldn’t safely see the end of the battle, the end of the war. 
After all, both of them have survived their fair share of combat, danger and the
unexpected.  The chances of surviving were good, and strongly in their favor. 
And yet Legolas couldn’t help but feel that something terrible might go wrong. 
He forced the dismal feeling away, hiding the emotions playing across his face
as Pelennor came full into view.  

Those aboard the ship made ready to descend as the vessels slowed: swords,
knives and arrows were pulled from their scabbards and quivers and held at the
ready.  Halbarad, in a flick of the wrist, unfurled Aragorn’s standard, the gems
the Lady Arwen had sewn into the black fabric glittered in the sunlight as the
ships came to a halt.  The chaos in the fields momentarily ceased, the
frightened cries of the ‘Corsairs of Umbar’ died as the planks were lowered, and
the Dunedain rushed the fields.  Relief washed over the faces of the Rohirrim
and the Gondorin guards as they recognized their Northern allies, and they began
to fight the Uruk-hai and Orcs with renewed vigor.

The battle was not yet won and the fighting still fierce, yet the Men fought on. 
Their hearts lifted to see the sons of Elrond, the Prince of Mirkwood and a lone
Dwarf fighting at their sides with speed, skill and strength.

“Come and get me, I say!  Let them come!” Gimli was shouting and laughing as he
sliced through enemies as easily as cutting his meal.  The Elves smiled at the
glee on their friend’s face and renewed their advances against their foes.

The battle raged on; it seemed at times as if it would never end.  Halbarad
fell, as did many as valiant as he.  Yet those who still lived fought on in
their stead, taking up their arms and doubling their efforts.  His arrows long
spent and without the time to gather more, Legolas had resorted to his trusted
knives.  He almost seemed to perform a deadly dance on the battlefield; nothing
dark yet lived within his reach.  A body heavily connected with his; Legolas
moved to strike, but stopped when he recognized Elrohir.  

“How do you fare?” the twin asked over the noise of battle.

“I yet have strength left within me,” Legolas replied.  He did not like the
slight look of worry that had etched frowns into the twin’s brow.  “What is it?”

“I have lost sight of Elladan.”

/Valar, no…/  His motions stopped, his limbs suddenly feeling heavy with
weariness.  The cacophony of sounds dimmed around him as all Legolas could think
about was what Elrohir had just said.  /He can’t…no, I refuse to believe it!  He
can’t be gone!/

“Legolas!”  

Gimli’s voice sounded close to the archer’s elbow; shaking himself back to
reality, Legolas was in time to see the Dwarf sink his axe into an Uruk-hai
about to sever Legolas’ head from the rest of his body.

“Pull yourself together, lad!  We’re at war here!”

“But…”

“Have faith in him, lad.  He lives yet, believe that.  Worry about keeping
yourself alive, and then we’ll worry about finding him.”

Legolas nodded, understanding the reasoning behind his friend’s words.  He
willed his limbs to move, slicing through an Orc about to sink a blade into
Elrohir’s torso.  /Please, melethron.  Be alive.  I’ll find you, just be alive./

Translations:
Anor-nîn-My sun
Ithil-nîn-My moon
Melethron-Lover




Chapter 18: Shared Victory
Summary: The fighting is over, the dark armies destroyed and yet there is no
sign of Elladan; Legolas fears for the worse.

It was over and they had won, but the wounded and dead were still numerous.  The
wounded were carried to the healing houses to be attended to; the dead were also
carried away to be buried properly; the Uruk-hai and Orcs were piled to be
burned.  They had found Merry with Eowyn, the King Theoden next to them; he had
died valiantly in battle, and would be honored for it.  The little Hobbit and
the White Maiden were injured and taken away, their wounds grievous.  Though he
had vowed not to step into Minas Tirith until the appropriate time, Aragorn
followed into the city to attend to the injured.

Others, however, remained on the battlefield, searching for those who still
possessed some sign of life.  Among them was a lone Dwarf, shifting through the
carcasses with his axe, being rather gentle with the bodies of fallen Men when
he encountered them.  With him were two elves, the youngest son of Elrond and
the youngest prince of Mirkwood.  Together they searched for one amongst the
fallen, one whom they had lost sight of during the heavy battling.  They each
prayed they would not find him as lifeless as the corpses before them.

“Elbereth, where is he?!”  Legolas’ voice sounded rather frenzied as he searched
the battlefield with maddening speed.  His heart was racing, blood pumping in a
thunderous roar in his ears as blue eyes darted left, right, everywhere.  His
footsteps were light yet quicker than normal as his searching became almost
frantic.

“Lad, get a hold of yourself!” Gimli shouted at his friend, his voice
surprisingly calm and even.  He understood what Legolas must be going through;
the joy that surged at finding his love was not the body before him, mixed with
the dread that Elladan might be the next.  The Dwarf was mildly put out by the
indecisive display of emotions, and that the young prince had not lost his head
earlier.  Sparing a glance to the elf at his left, Gimli was not surprised to
find Elrohir’s lips grimly set in a thin line nor the slight worry that showed
in his storm-gray eyes.  They were all worried, the Dwarf no less than his
companions, but somebody had to keep their head.  “We’ll find him, Legolas.”

“Gimli is right, gwador,” Elrohir said.  “Do not worry.  I would know if
something terrible happened to Elladan.”

Legolas seemed to visibly relax hearing Elrohir’s words.  His limbs suddenly
felt heavy as the weariness showed in his eyes; he was tired and in need of
rest, as he knew his companions must be, but he was not yet willing to leave the
bloodied field.  Legolas wanted--needed--to find Elladan first and make sure his
lover was all right; it was all he could think about right now.

“Legolas?  Gwador?”  Elrohir laid a gentle hand upon the prince’s shoulder, his
thumb rubbing over the cloth-covered skin comfortingly.  He knew his words had
reassured his friend, but could clearly see that Legolas was still worried. 
“Come, rest.  Master Gimli and I will continue searching.  Be at ease, we will
find him.”

The archer nodded and allowed himself to be steered to a clear patch of ground
that had, miraculously, been spared of any mark of the bloodshed that had taken
place.  Legolas allowed Elrohir to help him sit on the ground comfortably before
the twin resumed the search with Gimli.  He sat quietly watching them, his knees
drawn up close and his slender arms wrapped about them.  The archer tried to
keep his mind from thinking of the horrors that might have befallen his lover. 
Instead, he tried to concentrate on happier times, times they shared when their
hearts were light and all they could think about was love.

Trenaro nin o pent alui trenare in pennar
Tolo annin in i aduial in laire môr an lű

Sano nin ad i dôr
Manke anírarim-nîn n'onnen
I fenedror edra i fen naa ned camlann-lîn
Si revio nin ennas

The words tumbled from his lips without Legolas even realizing it.  He was
unaware of the stunned looks etched upon Gimli and Elrohir’s faces as they and
others still on the battlefield turned to the singing prince.  The words kept
coming, the song familiar.  It was a song he knew well, one Legolas had sung the
first night he had met Elladan.  He sang the next verses unconsciously.

Milur utu sen menel in alui-meth alagor
Palantíri o rusva naa moeglîr an adonnen

Wait…what was that sound?  Legolas sat up straighter, his ears straining to
catch any sound.  He was vaguely aware of Elrohir looking around as the twin
also heard the sound.  Swallowing thickly, the prince found his voice again.

Adgellam naa'nnas
In dôr en elei teli
I fenedror edra i fen naa ned camlann-lîn
Si revio nin ennas

There!  The voice sounded again!  Jumping to his feet, Legolas looked around the
field, hoping to catch a glimpse of whomever it was he had heard.  And then he
saw him, a lone dark figure in the distance making its way slowly towards them. 
A tattered cloak blew his wake, sunlight streaming through their dark hair as
gray eyes gazed up and a smile appeared.

“Elladan…”  He raced along the bloody field as fast as his weary frame could
carry him.  All he could think about was the one in front of him, alive and as
well as could be.

Elladan had stopped walking the moment he saw Legolas move, the gashes on his
arm and across his hip forgotten as he caught the lithe form in his arms.  He
enfolded the familiar form of his lover in his arms, hugging him tightly as he
felt kisses being planted over his face.  “Legolas, melme…”

“You had me so worried!” Legolas nearly shouted, beating a fist on the light
armor Elladan wore.  “I thought…you might have…I didn’t…”  He couldn’t voice his
concerns as his voice choked and tears of relief filled his eyes.

“Forgive me, anor-nîn.  Forgive me.”  He pulled Legolas closer, hugging him as
tightly as the pain in his left arm would allow.  Neither were aware of the
smiles on Elrohir and Gimli’s faces as they joined the lovers.  All seemed well
in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You gave us all quite a scare, gwanur.”

“I can assure you that my intentions did not involve being swept away by a
wayward band of Orcs only to fight them off on my own…Estel!”  Elladan squirmed
as Aragorn attempted to apply some balm to the twin’s various gashes, cuts and
scrapes, but being far from soothing the paste was beginning to sting and burn. 
“Is that really made from athelas?”

“Yes, gwanur, it is,” Aragorn said in slight exasperation mixed with a bit of
tiredness, ignoring the small chuckle Elrohir gave from over his shoulder.  “Now
will you kindly hold still so that I may attend to you?”

Elladan grumbled something unintelligible, but obediently sat still as Aragorn
finished the cleansing and binding of his wounds.  Behind the King, Elrohir,
Legolas and Gimli waited in silence, each watching Aragorn perform his work to
his satisfaction before stepping away from his eldest foster brother, who
promptly began to redress.

“I would say you are fairly lucky, gwanur.  Whatever created the wounds to your
arm and hip was not poisoned.  Just as a precautionary measure, I would suggest
you take the next day to rest and heal so as not to aggravate the healing.”

“Now you sound like Ada, Estel.”

Aragorn snorted at the remark and turned to leave, followed by Elrohir who
ushered Gimli out before him.  Elladan was left alone with Legolas, who rose
from the seat he had been occupying to sit next to his dark-haired lover.

“How do you feel?” Legolas asked in a quiet voice.

“Tired…well, exhausted is more like it.  But I’m healing.  My injuries are not
so great.”  Elladan sighed and wrapped an arm around the prince’s waist and drew
him closer.  He closed his eyes and rested his dark head upon his lover’s
shoulder.  Another sigh escaped his lips as Elladan felt Legolas’ fingers gently
shift through his hair to untangle the locks.  “I am sorry to have frightened
you, anor-nîn.”

“You are all right; it matters not anymore.  I thank the Valar that they
returned you to me safely.”  Legolas tenderly kissed his lover’s brow, drawing
Elladan closer.  “Rest, melme.  Aragorn does not intend to ride out from a few
more days.  You need to rest and heal in the meantime.”

“Stay?”  There was a small pleading tone in Elladan’s voice as he gazed up at
Legolas.

“Of course.”  He smiled when he observed the contentment that crossed the twin’s
face.  Legolas began to hum gently in an effort to lull his love to sleep; in a
few moments, Elladan was gently dozing against his shoulder.  Moving slowly so
as not to awaken his lover, Legolas managed to maneuver them both into a lying
position, pulling the sheets up about their forms.  “Rest, ithil-nîn.  Let me
watch over your dreams.”  Another smile graced Legolas’ fair face as Elladan
shifted in his sleep to cuddle closer.  The prince kissed his love’s cheeks, and
began to hum again as the noise around them settled down and peace enveloped the
lovers.

Translations:
Gwador-Brother (for those not blood related)
Melme-Love
Anor-nîn-My sun
Gwanur-Brother (for those blood related)
Ada-Father
Ithil-nîn-My moon




Chapter 19: Aftermath
Summary: Gathered in Minas Tirith, Elladan finds the courage to tell Legolas of
his decision and is surprised by his lover’s answer (slash).

The War was over.  Frodo had destroyed the Ring; the Quest was fulfilled and the
King was crowned.  Peace reigned through the land, though there was still much
work to be done in the wake of the battle.  Ithilien was in disarray and needed
repair; Mina Tirith as well needed new gates and the buildings needed
conditioning.  All of Middle-earth was pulling together to repair the damage
that had been done.  With a new King on the throne, it seemed that evil’s hold
over the people had loosened considerably.  Despite the things that needed to be
done, it was a time of celebration and merrymaking.

Though it was close to the middle of the night, most within the white walls of
Minas Tirith were far from asleep.  Instead, there was much cheer happening
throughout the late hours.  A good number of the Gondorian warriors were singing
loudly and praising their King; most of the Rohirrim joined their fellow Men. 
The Northern Dunedain sat quietly by their chief, yet the joy was evident in
their eyes as they watched with faint smiles at their fellow Men.  Gimli was
among the crowd, laughing merrily with the Hobbits who joined him and telling
stories of his people to eager young boys.  Elrohir as well mingled in the
crowd, at times having long discussions with the Dunedain, at other times mixing
with the merry makers in their joy.  His twin, however, was more occupied with
quieter dealings.

Elladan stood alone on a balcony, which afforded a wondrous view of the
Pelennor, the Anduin and the distant Misty Mountains.  A night breeze swept
about him, streaming through his hair and weaving into his cloak.  He was silent
and his eyes looked contemplative as he stared out at the view before him. 
Elladan chose to ignore the commotion going on down below him; instead, he
focused on the peace and quiet of the night around him.

“Elladan?”

At the sound of his name uttered in that familiar voice, the twin turned to look
over his shoulder.  Framed in the doorway of the balcony stood Legolas, the
light behind him setting off his hair in a soft golden glow.  With a smile,
Elladan held out his hand, silently beckoning the prince to join him.  Legolas
did so, taking his lover’s hand and entwining their fingers together as they
stood side by side.  Silence passed between them for some moments before Legolas
spoke again.

“Is anything the matter, melme?  You are quiet this night.”

Elladan shook his head, leaning over to kiss his lover’s temple.  “Nay, nothing
is the matter.  I am just content.”

Legolas nodded, leaning against the form beside him.  A strong arm wrapped about
his waist, and he leaned closer, molding his form to the twin’s.  More silence
passed before the archer spoke again.  “I feared for you on the fields.”

“I know.  And I am sorry to have caused you such distress, anor-nîn.  It was not
my intention, I assure you.”

The prince nodded.  “I realize you would not see harm done to those you love.  I
have known you for long years, Elladan.  I know you well.  Yet I fear for you,
for us.  I fear what will happen should one of us pass from this world and leave
the other behind.  I fear…”  /I fear you will choose mortality and leave me to
sail alone./

“You fear I will choose to remain behind.”

Elladan’s words startled Legolas as they echoed his own thoughts.  He did not
protest as Elladan turned and drew him closer.  A soft sigh left his lips as he
felt a kiss upon his hair and a gentle hand smoothing along his back.  “Aye, I
fear you will stay,” Legolas said in a small, timid voice.  “I love you dearly,
ithil-nîn.  I cannot bear to be apart from you for any length of time as of
late.  I must have you close--I need you close.  I am being selfish, I know, but
I do not want you to stay.  I do not want to sail alone when the time arrives.”

“Legolas, look at me.”

Slowly, tentatively, the archer raised his head from where it had rested upon
his lover’s shoulder.  Azure eyes met stormy-gray, staring into their depths and
trying to assess the thoughts behind them.  But Elladan showed nothing of what
he is thinking in his gaze; all Legolas could see and discern was love and
undying affection.  The prince swallowed the small lump in this throat, his
voice soft and almost child-like as he spoke.  “What is your choice then?”

He could see the fear in his love’s eyes, the desperation and a slight twinkle
of hope.  Elladan tried not to smile as he gently cupped Legolas’ face in his
hands.  “You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”  He waited for the nod
before continuing.  “There’s nothing in this world that could tear away the love
I have for you.  Not time, not distance, nothing.  You will always have my heart
no matter where we are.
“But I digress.  I have not answered your question.  Then, melme, here is my
answer.  Elrohir and I have discussed this, and we have decided that we will
sail.  Not immediately, however.  We have decided to delay our leaving until we
have been witnesses to Estel and Arwen’s happiness.  I will not leave you to
cross the Sea alone, anor-nîn.  I would not suffer our separation.”  Elladan
could see the tears welling up in those blue eyes, threatening to spill over and
mar pale cheeks.  He drew his lover closer, burying his face in the silken
golden hair.  “We will leave together when the time is right.”

“Elladan…”  Legolas hid his face in the crook of Elladan’s neck, nuzzling the
skin and issuing a deep sigh of mingled relief and happiness.  He felt comforted
now that the twins’ decision was out in the open, and relieved that his fears
had been dispelled.  

“Im mela lle, anor-nîn,” Elladan whispered into a pointed ear.  “I will never
leave you behind to wander the lands alone.”

“I would bond to you this night, ithil-nîn.  I would have you for my own, for
all of time.”

Elladan smiled, placing a tender kiss upon his lover’s brow before taking
Legolas’ slender hand into his and leading the archer back into the adjourning
bedroom.  Words were no longer needed as each brought out the mithril ring they
wore about their necks, exchanged them, then slipped the simple band onto the
other’s left ring finger.  For them, spoken vows were not needed for they had
spoken them many times before.

Legolas could feel his body shaking in a pleasurable way as Elladan leaned
forward, planting gentle kisses upon his brow, cheeks, eyelids and then his
lips.  The kiss was languid, slow and loving; neither was in a hurry to rush
things, for time was something they had plenty of.  Legolas mewed softly as his
lower lip was nibbled, a warm tongue flicking out to smooth the nip that was
left.  Lips met his again and he felt his knees buckle at the pleasurable
sensations spiraling through his body; he felt Elladan smile into the kiss
before the twin swept him up into his arms, and carried Legolas over towards the
awaiting bed.

Garments were stripped off quickly, satin skin touching satin skin.  The lovers
groaned throatily at the feel of the other, and shared a kiss more heated and
passionate than the one before it.  Hands set out to explore, tickling, teasing
and arousing wherever they could reach.  Fireworks, set off by Mithrandir in
celebration, explored outside and set the room alight in dazzling flares of
reds, yellows, blues and greens; but the bonded pair paid no attention.  All
there was, all that there needed to be, was one another.

“Ithil-nîn,” Legolas practically purred as their lips parted.  “Have me, please,
melethron.”

Elladan pulled away slightly to study his lover--his bonded--and granted him a
few butterfly kisses now and again.  His gray orbs roamed over arousal-flushed
cheeks, the azure eyes darkened with lust and love, the expression of utter
trust etched over that beautiful face and golden hair fanned out on the stark
white pillows beneath them.  How he loved this perfect creature; how he would
always love him.  “Nay, melme,” Elladan whispered.  He allowed his tongue to
moisten an ear tip, and delighted in the shudder that coursed through the lithe
form.  “I shall allow you to take me this night.”

Azure eyes widened, staring at the twin in utter disbelief.  Did he hear
correctly?  They had never done it this way before, with Legolas giving rather
than taking.  Legolas gazed deep into his love’s eyes, finding trust and
devotion swirling in the stormy orbs.  Elladan wanted this, and there was
nothing Legolas could deny his moon.  Slowly he nodded and allowed the twin to
shift their positions until the prince was lying atop him.  For a moment neither
moved; they could do nothing more than admire the other and smile brilliantly,
love and warmth radiating from them.

“I don’t…”  Legolas was unable to finish as he swallowed a lump that had lodged
itself in his throat.  Elladan appeared to understand as he twisted on the bed,
beginning to fumble with his discarded tunic.  After a moment of searching, the
twin withdrew a small clear vial containing a thick liquid tinted a pale golden
color.  Legolas recognized it as the oil Elladan often used to keep the leather
pieces of his gear smooth and flexible.  With a small giggle, he took the vial
from his love, popped open the top and covered both of their hands in the
substance.

Fingers slick yet clasped together, the lovers shared another languid kiss as
the oil warmed before they set out to prepare their other half.  Legolas groaned
as a warm touch came in contact with his sex, palms gently kneading the rock
hard erection in a sensual fashion.  The archer fought incoherency as his
fingers teased the puckered opening of his lover before slipping inside.  He
watched in amusement as he almost instantly discovered the hidden gland, and as
Elladan threw back his head and let a small mew escape his lips.  Legolas
watched his lover in fascination as he inserted first two, then three, fingers
to gently stretch and prepare the dark-haired elf.  He stared deeply into
Elladan’s eyes, which had turned nearly black with lust, as he removed his hand.

“This is pure torment,” Elladan said in a breathless whisper.

Legolas smiled, rising up a little on his knees to deliver a light kiss to the
twin’s lips.  “Now you understand how I’ve felt all these years.”

“By Elbereth, I did this to you?!  How did you stand it?”

“By knowing there was always something better coming.”  The prince smiled
gleefully at the wide-eyed stare Elladan gave him as Legolas’ erection nudged
his opening.  “Just relax, melme,” the golden-haired elf whispered.  “I won’t
hurt you; I’d never hurt you.”

Elladan could only nod as the thick shaft breached him; he took slow and steady
breaths as the pain quickly gave way to pleasure.  Legolas slowly pushed himself
in, stopping only when he was fully sheathed in his lover.  In the moment they
took to adjust to one another, they shared another kiss before Elladan pushed
back, silently begging Legolas to move.  Their lips never parted as the prince
pulled out and thrust in again, angled just so to hit his lover’s prostate with
each movement.  The twin moaned into their kiss, pressing back against the
thrusts and shivering at the sensations racing through his form.

The rhythm they built was steady and slow; they were in no hurry to finish their
lovemaking.  Each movement was precise, executed to bring the pair the most
pleasure they have ever experienced.  Feeling his love nearing climax, Legolas
reached before their joined bodies and gently grasped Elladan’s erection.  His
slender fingers gently stroked the heated erection, his thumb smoothing over the
sensitive head.  Elladan gasped, wrapping his arms tightly around his
golden-haired lover and pulling him closer whilst his fingers tangled in the
golden locks.  Legolas’ name left his lips in a deep moan as he came, spilling
his seed before their sweat slicked bodies.  The archer bit down on his lower
lip as he felt muscles contracting around him, causing him to reach orgasm as
well.

Together they rode out the last waves of their passion before sinking bonelessly
onto the bed and into one another’s arms.  Moving slowly and gently as he pulled
out from his lover, Legolas released a content sigh and buried his face into his
lover’s neck.  Elladan smiled gently, drawing him closer and lifting the sheets
over them.

“I love you, Elladan Peredhel,” Legolas whispered.  “I will always love you.  I
give myself and my love to you freely.”

“I take and claim your offering as my own,” the twin replied.  “And I offer my
own endearing and undying devotion to you, Legolas of Mirkwood.”

Legolas giggled softly in acceptance before a lazy yawn made itself present.  He
blinked owlishly up at his lover, who smiled down at him and placed a tender
kiss on his temple before drawing him closer.  Wrapped in the warmth and love of
their other half, the lovers slowly drifted off to sleep, oblivious to the
merriment still raging in the streets of Minas Tirith.  Fireworks continued to
blaze outside, illuminating the still room and the slumbering pair in their
flickering lights.  The day meant more than the end of war and the beginning of
peace for Elladan and Legolas; it meant the beginning of their lives together.

Translations:
Melme-Love
Anor-nîn-My sun
Ithil-nîn-My moon
Im mela lle-I love you
Melethron-Lover




Chapter 20: Into the West
Summary: Elessar is gone, Arwen remains with her children.  With a last longing
look she bids farewell as her brothers and friends sail to meet her parents,
regret far from her heart (Arwen‘s POV).

I stand alone on this shoreline, watching as the last of the white ships sails
away.  Years ago there were many, bearing away all those who wished to leave
Middle-earth and journey into the Undying Lands.  My father and grandmother were
among those that left then; they left with the other Ringbearers, most of the
Galadhrim and so many others.  Since then, there hasn’t been a steady stream of
ships leaving, but there have been some.  All had white sails and gleamed silver
in the sunlight as they glided over the water’s edge to a place I will never
see.  This one is the last of them.  No more will come.  And this ship bears
away the last of my kindred who wish to leave, the last of my family.

The Sea breeze blows gently, cooling my skin which has been basking in the late
summer sun.  Soon winter will set in, and as I have these many years I will feel
the cold.  It is no longer a new sensation to me, for I have become accustomed
to the feeling.  I can still, however, remember a time when the change in
seasons did not bother me, when I was unaffected by heat and cold.  Those days
are no longer.  My hearing is still exceptional after so long; I can hear my
son, Eldarion, shifting his feet behind me as he waits.  Of the party that
accompanied me to these shores, only he has remained; the others, including my
daughters, retreated back to the campsite when they no longer could see the
white sails of Círdan.  But I see them still, and I will not leave, and Eldarion
will not leave my side.

I turn briefly to gaze upon my son.  He is so like his father as he gazes out at
the waters in search of something he can no longer see.  Like an elf he is, tall
and slender in shape, his eyes sharp and his hearing equally keen.  Those are
his father’s eyes he stares out with though strands of raven black hair.  Yet he
is also a Man, strong and sturdy in stature, his chin shadowed by growing
stubble.  When did my son turn into a man?  I do not remember, but I am proud of
him.  He is his father’s son, and now he is a King.  He will rule his people and
his land well, for he loves them immensely.  Yet there is a longing in his eyes. 
Eldarion longs to see the lands of his immortal kindred, he longs to follow them
though he knows he cannot.  He has the same longing look in his eyes I had so
many years ago, when I first saw the sailing of a ship.

The first time I saw a white ship sail into the West, it bore away my mother. 
She was weak at heart after her ordeal and did not wish to stay in the land of
her birth any longer.  We let her go, my father, brothers and I, knowing that
she would heal in time, would become whole again.  At that time, I had thought
that I would one day meet her again, that I would be able to see her shining
white beauty; as she had been when she was called the Silver Queen of Imladris. 
At that time I did not know what the future had in store for me.  Now I know,
and now I will never see my mother again--not in the flesh at least.

Ada, dear Ada, I do hope you found true peace over these long years since that
fateful day.  I know how much it distressed you to see Nana go.  There was a
time I thought I would lose you too, so grief stricken you were.  But I did not
lose you, and I have Glorfindel to thank for that.  He showed you love again,
Ada; he gave it to you freely, without question, without condition.  And you
accepted it, though I feared you would not.  It was good to see you happy again,
and I know you will be happy in Valinor.  You had long spoken about the lands my
forbearers traveled to, then left.  You always said you wanted to see the
Undying Lands for yourself, Ada, and now you have.  I hope you have found true
peace at last.

There is a glimmer upon the water that catches my eye.  I know not what it is,
but I gaze fixedly upon the white ship, which has become merely a dot on the
horizon.  Ata’da, Elladan, Elrohir, can you still see me?  I could not join you
on this last journey of yours.  I do not regret my choice, but I wonder how it
would feel to be standing upon that ship by your sides.  Are you happy to be
sailing to your new home with your bonded, Elladan?  I still see your sad smile
as you made your goodbyes; you were happy to go, yet were saddened that I could
not join you.  Be at peace, gwanur-nîn; you are going home, to your real home,
and your love is with you.  Legolas, brother of my heart, keep him safe, keep
him happy.  I wish you both well.

And you, Elrohir, how do you fare?  You and Ata’da are going home to your lovers
whom you have not seen in over a century.  How you survived so long without your
beloved Galadhrim at your side, I will never know gwanur.  Orophin was
everything to you, and to be separated from him for so long must have left your
heart all but shattered.  Was it the knowledge that you would be united again
that kept you going?  Or the vows you exchanged and the bond that you share? 
All of it perhaps?  I shall never know how you managed to survive such an
ordeal.  I had my love, and Elladan had his; we were never separated from our
better halves for too long a time.  You are truly the embodiment of strength,
Elrohir.

“Nana?”  I turn and find Eldarion at my side, no longer lingering behind me.  A
small smile creeps upon me as I hear the familiar term of my people he uses to
call me.  He need not speak to me in such a tongue for few left on Middle-earth
understand it.  But he does because he knows it comforts my heart, and because
he likes the sound.

“You miss them,” he says simply.  I nod and lean against him, against the frame
so like his father’s.  I will leave you one day soon, my child, but I know you
are strong.

“Do you not wish to be with them?” Eldarion asks, gazing down at me.  I do not
look at him, not yet; my eyes are still fixed upon the white dot, which is
growing smaller and smaller.

“I do,” I reply quietly.  “But I have made my choice.  I do not regret all these
years, but I shall miss them.  I shall miss my family, my kindred.”

“Can you not go with them, Nana?  Ada is gone.”  My son swallows thickly and
awaits my reaction to his latest words.  I can only smile sadly, for his words
are true in every sense, and motion him to continue.  “There is nothing to bind
you here, Nana.  Why can you not take ship and be with your remaining family? 
Why must you remain behind whilst they all go?  Why can you not be immortal and
still live upon  Middle-earth.  Your brothers did, why can’t you?  I do not
understand.”

Oh my dear son!  You do not understand the choice that has been placed before
me, before those before me.  The Peredhil are given one choice, and one choice
only; we cannot go back on our decision.  How to explain this to you? 
“Eldarion, do you remember the stories I used to tell you at nights when you
were a child?  The story of the love of Beren and Luthien, and the choice of my
uncle, your ancestor, Elros Tar-Minyatur?”  I wait for him to nod before
continuing.  “They made their choices just as I did.  Luthien loved Beren with
all her heart, deeply enough to give up her immortality to live, love and be
loved by Beren, a mortal.  She could not bear to live once he passed from the
world; she would not suffer it and preferred the gift of death to loneliness.”

“And Elros?”

“My father used to tell me about my uncle.  Elladan once asked Ada why Elros
chose to become mortal whilst our father became an elven-lord.  Ada said that he
chose immortality because he had only known wrong in the world at that time; he
lived without parents, lived in the camp of Maglor, and whilst the son of Fëanor
treated my father kindly, Ada wanted to know--wanted to see--some good in the
world.  He wanted to know true happiness, not the temporary fabrication he
possessed at that moment.  He wanted to see the changing times, and he wanted to
record what he saw.”

“He was afraid of death.”

“No, my son.  My father did not fear death, for he had seen much decay in his
youth.  He did not fear death, but he cherished life.  Ada wanted to live and
see life flourish, see it prosper and change.  My father once said that the
Valar had many miracles yet left to perform for the inhabitants of Middle-earth,
and he wanted to see as many of them as he could before the Sea longing awakened
and beckoned him back to the lands of his forefathers.
“But Elros was different.  Ada said Elros wanted to understand how Men could
live their lives knowing that one day they would die.  He wanted to see how much
happiness he could achieve in such a short time, how much he could accomplish
before death drew his last breath from him.  Elros wanted to leave a piece of
himself in this land he loved so dearly, and to do that he intended to sire
children who would become great.  Not necessarily great in deeds and strength,
but great in heart and compassion.  Your father, my dear child, and you have
lived up to his dream I believe.  You were--are--both very stout of heart,
courageous yet kind.  I am proud of you.”

“But Nana, your choice…”

“Ah yes, my choice.”  I take a deep breath, preparing to tell him all I have
kept in my heart.  Eldarion does not quite understand what Aragorn, my brothers
and father accepted.  “It is quite simple, Eldarion.  I chose the way of Luthien
and my uncle.  I chose to live for love despite the loss.  I felt that one life
to cherish with all my heart was better than to live in agony and loneliness
once my heart’s desire was lost.  Therefore, I must stay, and one day pass from
this world.  I regret nothing, for this is my choice.  And I have lived my life
to the fullest; I will never regret.”

Eldarion ponders my words, yet I can see in his eyes that something still
troubles him.  “Nana, if you chose mortality, then how is it that my uncles can
chose immortality, yet remain in Middle-earth all these years?  Would not the
Valar have taken their mortality as they did yours for remaining so long?”

“On the day of each of their bonding vows, my brothers told me they asked the
Valar for permission to remain in this land until the day Aragorn and I no
longer required their companionship.  Elladan and Elrohir both have immortal
lovers and would never leave their sides or pass into Mandos’ Halls from grief. 
While they loved deeply, they could not bear to leave your father, whom they
loved like a brother, and I, ridding us of the rest of our family.  My brothers
wished to remain for a time to keep us company, and finish their own business.”

He is thinking again, my beautiful son.  There are no more questions, for his
eyes are filled with understanding.  Yet I know he will always question my
decision, but he shall never speak of it again.  “I feel great joy mingle with a
great sadness, Nana.”

“Do not dwell on those emotions, Eldarion.  I was happy all these years.  I am
happy now, though I know I shall pass soon.  The time of the elves is past; look
to the future, my beautiful Eldarion.”  He nods and folds and arm around me as I
turn back to the Sea.  The white ship is gone from my sight, but I remain
watching the horizon for a few moments more.

I love you, my brothers.  Be at peace in Valinor with the recipients of your
hearts and our parents.  Though I shall see none of you again, I wish you all
well.  I pray to the Valar that they grant you much joy and happiness.  Remember
me.

Translations:
Ada-Father
Nana-Mother
Ata’da-Grandfather
Gwanur-nîn-My brother


Epilogue: In the Land of the Valar
Summary: A thousand years after sailing into the West, Elladan and Legolas sit
together on the shores of Valinor, remembering old times (slash).

The shores of Valinor were a glorious sight to those who were allowed to gaze
upon them.  White sand nearly the color of mithril greeted the most azure waters
anyone had ever seen.  Tall and majestic cliffs sheered the shoreline here and
there, green forest bordering the ends of the white sandy beach.  The water was
always cool, the salty breeze always warm.  One could spend hours walking the
line where sand met water, breathing in the refreshing air, forgetting their
cares if they had any to begin with.  On this bright day a lone figure walked
the shoreline.  He was dressed simply in a tunic of white and leggings of green. 
He had left his boots and what few weapons he carried on a spot near the forest,
for few needed arms in Valinor but many still carried such items.

As he walked, Legolas kept his path straight, but his eyes were fixed on the
horizon where ocean met sky.  A thousand years had passed since he had traveled
to this undying land with his friend, Gimli the Dwarf, and the rest of the elves
from Middle-earth who had wished to leave.  It had a been long time indeed since
he had last laid eyes on his old friend, Aragorn, and the Lady Arwen, his
lover’s sister.  The last he had seen of the Evenstar was when she had come to
the shore with her children, the prince Eldarion and his sisters, to see her
brothers and the last of her kinsmen off.  Legolas still remembered the look of
love and longing in her gray eyes as she watched them sail away, never to join
them nor see them again.  He wondered how often his lover and his family thought
of their sister, their daughter, granddaughter whom they would never see again. 
Even he, who had come to view Arwen as his own sister, thought about her, though
she must have long passed from the world and to wherever the spirits of mortal
Men travel to.

Sighing softly, the golden-haired prince turned, walking back to where he had
laid his belongings.  Instead of retrieving them and returning to the city where
the others were surely waiting, he sat next to his things in the sand, feeling
the warm sea breeze on his face, the cooler winds of the forest at his back.  So
engrossed in his thoughts was he that Legolas failed to notice the presence
creeping up on him until a pair of arms wrapped themselves firmly about his
shoulders, another body pressing against his back.  A smile came to him as he
leaned back, turning his head to capture his lover’s lips in a delicate kiss.

“Your eyes look thoughtful today, anor-nîn,” Elladan said, placing a kiss in the
hair behind Legolas’ ear.  “What memories assail your beautiful mind this day?”

“Memories of the past, and events we were not present for.”  Legolas sighed
deeply, leaning back into Elladan’s embrace.  A moment of silence passed between
them before he spoke again.  “Do you think of her?”

“Of whom do you speak?”

“Your sister.”  

There was no immediate answer.  Another moment of silence passed before it was
Elladan’s turn to break the silence.  “I think of her now and again,” he said,
his breath tickling the tip of Legolas’ ear.  “I sometimes wonder what it would
be like if she were here, if we could all see her again.  But, she wished to
stay.  Her love was in Middle-earth, not Valinor.  She would have been happy
here; I think Arwen was the happiest with Estel and her children.  She gave up
her mortality in order to keep her happiness and love.  With us she would have
kept her immortal life, but she would never smile happily again if she left
Estel, or the land she loved him in, behind.”

“You sound as if you almost wish you were back.”

“Do you not have such thoughts at times?”  Legolas admitted silently that such
thoughts had crossed his mind, but he remained silent, his answer left unspoken;
but Elladan had known him long enough to already know his answer.  The twin
continued to speak.  “I do often think about the times I spent there, my
childhood and the experiences I had.  But I made my choice; Elrohir and I chose
to remain immortal whilst Arwen chose the opposite.  I don’t regret my decision,
though I often wonder what a mortal life would have been like.  I’m sure Ada and
Elrohir have had such ideas, as Arwen must have pondered on having an immortal
life.  Our decisions make us who we are, however, and we must live by the
consequences.  Such is our lot in life.”  Elladan’s brow furrowed as Legolas
began to laugh in his arms.  “What, might I ask, is so humorous to you?”

“Forgive me, ithil-nîn,” Legolas gasped through helpless giggles.  “But the way
you spoke just now reminded me a great deal of Gimli.”

“I remind you of the Dwarf?”  What insolence!  But the Peredhel allowed himself
a small smile at the thought.

“Aye, the bit about making choices and living through the consequences.  Gimli
said something similar to me when we were sailing towards the Pelennor.”

“And, pray tell, what was the conversation about?”

Legolas sobered a bit, fidgeting with a corner of his tunic as he thought of
what to say.  He sighed when Elladan incessantly began to tug at a strand of
golden hair at the prince’s prolonged silence.  “I was worried about what choice
you were going to make.  You hadn’t told me and…and I was worried you wished to
stay on Middle-earth.  I was worried I was going to lose you.”

“Legolas…”  Elladan wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say; instead, he drew
his lover close against his chest, burying his face into the golden hair and
nuzzling a creamy neck.  He could feel the prince sigh deeply and lean back into
the embrace, covering Elladan’s hands with his own.  For long moments neither
spoke; the twin’s voice was in a hushed whisper when he broke the silence.  “I
would never dream of leaving you.  There was nothing to fear; I wasn’t going to
let you die from grieving for me.”

“I know that now, but I wasn’t so sure then.  I love you dearly, Elladan, and I
know you would never willingly do anything to hurt me.  But I was still
frightened so much I almost couldn’t think rationally.  It was Gimli who eased
my fright, made me realize that you have never been one to jump into anything
without first considering the consequences.”

“He is right.”

Legolas smiled, turning his head so as to lay a tender kiss upon his lover’s
temple.  “I know, melme.  I have never doubted you.  Despair, however, can creep
upon a person without them knowing.  We have all felt its pull at one point or
another.”

“Aye, it is not an emotion I enjoy experiencing.  Though I doubt we have much
reason to feel it these days.”  The pair maintained an easy silence after
Elladan’s words.  Together they watched as Arien sailed across the sky and
dipped into the far West just as Tirion made his ascent, the stars shining
brightly to announce his arrive.  “Ata’da is watching, as always.”

The prince lifted his eyes to gaze longingly at the star his lover pointed out. 
Eärendil, the mariner, his love’s grandfather.  This night, as so many nights
before and so many to follow, he was shining brightly, twinkling in the sea of
the sky and washing all of the Undying Land in his light.  “He shines brighter
here than in Middle-earth.”

“Aye, I have noticed that as well.  Perhaps it is because he knows that many of
his family are here.  But I wonder if they still take the time to admire the
night sky in Middle-earth.  It would be a pity if they do not; the night holds
many mysteries.”

“Let us discover some, shall we?”

Elladan cocked an eyebrow at the playful tone that sounded in Legolas’ voice. 
Glancing down, he noticed a familiar twinkle in the blue gaze he loved so much. 
A smirk began to tug at the corner of his lips as he decided to play this game. 
“Why, anor-nîn, just what is it you are implying?”

“I am implying nothing, ithil-nîn.  I simply suggested we do a little exploring
during this beautiful night.”

“And, pray tell, what kind of exploring did you have in mind?”

“Maybe something like this?”  Quickly Legolas turned in Elladan’s arms and
sealed their lips together in a searing kiss.  

The twin moaned as a demanding tongue slipped past his lips and invaded his
mouth, licking and tickling everything it could reach.  His own tongue flickered
out and began to wrestle with his lover’s; the twin smiled into the kiss as
Legolas uttered a barely audible mew from his throat.  Elladan began to take
control of the kiss as he nibbled at the prince’s lower lip, running his tongue
lightly over the gentle bite before invading that luscious mouth again.  “I
think I’m up for a little exploring this night after that romp,” Elladan
whispered as they parted for air.

“And who shall lead this expedition?” Legolas asked, suckling lightly on an ear
tip.

“I let you lead last night.  It’s my turn.”

“I believe I can accept those terms.”

“That is good to hear, melme, because I would not have had it any way else.” 
Sounding a playful growl, Elladan twisted and was able to pin Legolas underneath
him as the pair fell onto a soft bed of moss and ferns.  The Peredhel took his
time devouring his lover’s mouth while his hands hastily removed their clothing. 
Creamy skin shimmered faintly in the light of the dying sun, flushing a light
pink color from arousal.

Legolas buried his hands into waves of raven hair as he felt kisses and licks
being placed down the expanse of his neck.  He arched his head back to allow his
love easier access whilst pressing their bodies closer together.  A deep moan
left his lips as their erections rubbed together from his movements.  He wanted
this, craved it; Legolas could barely remember the time before their meeting. 
If he was truthful, he really didn’t want to remember.  Elladan was his life
now, had always been.  He was incomplete without his dark-haired lover.

“Legolas…melethron-nîn…”

The golden-haired prince shivered at the husky voice whispering into his ear. 
He could do nothing but moan as Elladan loosely grasped his arousal, gently
stroking the heated flesh to aching hardness.  /I couldn’t live without his
touch; the world means nothing to me without him./  “Ithil-nîn…”

“I love you.”

“I love you as well.”  Legolas returned Elladan’s smile, closing his eyes with a
sigh as he felt fingers gently massage his entrance.  He offered no resistance
as the fingers, coated in his own pre-ejaculate he realized, breached him,
scissoring and stretching the ring of muscle gently.  “Elladan…”

“Hush, melme.  Just a little patience; I don‘t wish to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.  Please…”

There was nothing Elladan was ever able to deny this creature.  How many times
had he told himself such?  Countless times it seemed; it didn’t matter.  Each
affirmation seemed to place more emphasis on the concept.  Gazing down at the
golden beauty writhing in abandon beneath him, Elladan again realized that he
would give everything he had for his heart.  He placed loving kisses across
flushed cheeks as he quickly prepared himself.  Breaching the guardian ring of
muscle, Elladan slowly pressed inside his love, stopping only when he was fully
sheathed inside overwhelming heat.  He paused only a moment to adjust before
pulling out and thrusting in again; a pleasant mew left Legolas’ throat,
indicating that the twin had found the hidden gland.

“Saes, ithil-nîn…”

Elladan answered with a soul-searing kiss as he began to move; Legolas pressed
back against him, increasing the rhythm of their joining.  Hands found one
another, fingers entwining as each gripped the other hard as if afraid to left
go.  Elladan broke from the kiss, dipping his head to lick the satiny curve of a
collarbone.  Shudders ripped through Legolas’ body at the warm, wet contact; he
let go of the twin’s hands, wrapping his arms tightly about Elladan’s shoulders. 
The Peredhel’s lips inched upwards, closing around the thrumming pulse at the
prince’s neck; his hand moved downward, gently clasping Legolas’ weeping
erection and stroking him to completion.  With a wordless cry of release,
Legolas reached his peak as stars shimmered behind his closed eyes.  Elladan
came a moment later, spilling himself into his love as he slumped forward with a
happy smile upon his face.

“To have eternity with you is what I’ve always wanted,” Elladan whispered after
they had lain together in silence for long moment.  “I could not bear to leave
you alone.”

“I know, melethron, I know.”  Legolas tenderly kissed the dark crown before him,
one hand gently smoothing over the muscles of Elladan’s back.  “And eternity we
have.”

“Aye, eternity.”  The Peredhel raised himself onto his elbows, gazing down at
the smiling blue orbs.  “Together.”  Leaning forward, he claimed the lips he
craved so much, lips already swollen from previous kisses.  Legolas returned the
kiss with all the love for the twin he possessed.  Overhead, Ithil and the stars
shone brightly, bathing the land in a gentle glow.  But their light was dimmed
by that which two bonded lovers shared on a white-sanded beach in the lands of
Valinor.

Translations:
Anor-nîn-My sun
Ada-Father
Ithil-nîn-My moon
Melme-Love
Ata’da-Grandfather
Melethron-nîn-My lover
Saes-Please