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Indian Summer 
Fortunate Son Series: Fortunate Son, Son Rise, Winter Heart,  
Rite of Spring, Summer Solstice, Indian Summer.  
Summary: Away from Imladris, Legolas must cope with the  
expectations of family and dynasty.  
This is for my godsend, AC, and for Leander and Phillip, who  
live the dream. ;)  
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"Have you nothing to say?" 
Cool blue eyes regarded him, staring with a level gaze at the  
smirking face that mocked him. Turning back to the shooting, he  
composed himself even more. His brother could make things rise  
in him that he wasn't even aware existed. All his life it had  
been so, this taunting and mocking visage some place in the  
line of his sight. 
His mother favored him, even though she never said to him that  
she did. He sensed it and he was sure if he could, so could his  
brothers. Legolas sighed softly, moving forward as it became  
his turn to shoot. Behind him, standing with his standard smirk  
firmly in place, Galdor watched. 
Their mother prized this one, he considered. It had never been  
voiced between any of them but she had clung to Legolas, keeping  
him close. It had been a source of jealousy for him, something  
that had needled him even as he needled his younger brother in  
turn. The sense of competition in the family that his father  
fostered as part of the passage from boyhood into manhood had  
soured between the two of them some long time before. They had  
never been friends but then they were separated by many years  
and many levels of life experiences. 
He watched as Legolas regarded his shot, his hand and eye  
coordination remarkable. He seldom, if ever missed and even  
though he would never say it, Galdor liked to watch him shoot.  
He knew their father was very proud of his sons, each of them  
possessing a particular talent that he felt extra emotion over. 
Alanel was smart, strong and analytical. He could figure things  
out easily and that was good since he was the heir. He, Galdor,  
was less the cool type and more hot, more outwardly emotional,  
more in his own way like their father. He liked the idea of it,  
this matching of personalities and he was utterly faithful in  
his service to his king and his country. Legolas, on the other  
hand, was another breed of cat altogether. 
He had been raised essentially by their mother, regarded by the  
two of them as some sort of eccentric puppy, something their  
mother could hold in her lap and lavish her love without a  
concern for his eventual development into adulthood. They didn't  
mind for a long time but then Legolas began to grow up and it  
was clear that even by Elvish standards he would be a beauty.  
He was introverted as well, more so than Alanel and a hard one  
to read, so carefully did he guard his emotions. 
When he would play with other children, he would be as  
boisterous and rough-and-tumble as they were but when he was  
around the family he was silent mostly, watching with his  
inscrutable blue eyes all that went on around him. 
One never really knew what he was about. Others noticed him,  
friends from his childhood were intensely loyal to him and the  
girls flocked around him. That Legolas had taken no fancy to  
them had not struck Galdor as odd until the business of the  
Lord of Imladris had risen among them like some kind of alien  
specter. 
That Legolas would fancy men was something he was hard put to  
assimilate. There was among their kind those that did. There  
were those among their kind who never took to wife. They were  
not usually regarded as odd or unusual. Most took no mention of  
it. But then, all of them weren't his brother. They were someone  
else's brother, son or uncle. This was *his* brother and *their*  
situation to deal with. 
That his brother fancied men was bad enough in some vaguely  
indefinable way but that he fancied Elrond of Imladris was  
beyond the pale. He was a foe to his father's peace of mind.  
He was the one who had been born with access to the top and had  
stayed there. He didn't have to scramble for a place in the sun  
the way their father and grandfather had done. They were 'lesser'  
elves in some ways, in the eyes of some people and it galled.  
All their life it had galled. 
Elrond of Imladris, herald to the High King, son of Earendil  
and Elwing, Lord, Prince, Lore Master ... he didn't have to  
seek it. He had it already. He lived in a beautiful valley,  
surrounded himself with learning and luxury and was the one to  
whom all came to solve the problems of the world. It was all  
too easy. Even though he knew in some tiny corner of his mind  
that this was too simple to be true, Galdor believed it. Now  
his brother was living with this man. His brother was intimate  
with this person. It galled. 
"Good shooting," someone said and he felt himself jolted back to  
the present. 
Legolas nodded, a smile on his lips and turned, walking to the  
targets beyond to extract his arrows from the deep green grass.  
He had bested them all again, no surprise there and the shooting  
was winding down. Soon they would all be sitting in the dining  
room eating together. 
Graceful movements accompanied each step Legolas made and with  
little effort he bent down and pulled the shafts from the turf.  
Turning, mulling over the tips and fletches, he walked back,  
absorbed in his task. Galdor watched him walk past and up the  
path to their home, nodding to people as he went inside. When  
he was gone, Galdor sighed. 
What would it mean in the end, this alliance between Legolas and  
Elrond? What would it mean to his father's determination to marry  
Legolas off to the lovely maiden visiting them? He didn't know.  
Shaking his head, he began to climb the path to the palace  
himself. 
************Later that day ... 
They rode out, moving with stately grace past the last check  
point of the great valley, heading toward the Lorien Woods that  
lie over the Great Mountains to the east. Days would be spent in  
saddle as they ventured forth, heading for a respite and  
confabulation with the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Elrond glanced  
back, noting that his home guard had already melted back into  
the trees behind them. 
Turning forward once more, he straightened his back and sat as  
befitting a kingly personage on the great black horse that was  
his own. His sons rode with him, as did Arwen, going with him  
once more to visit with her beloved grandmother. They would be  
passing south of Mirkwood, the place that sheltered his heart  
and he knew they would not be together any time soon. 
It had been quite a long spell since a rider from Mirkwood had  
brought him a letter from Legolas. All of the letters, coming  
every few days, he carried in his saddle bag, tied in a ribbon  
of the most perfect yellow. He wouldn't be leaving them behind.  
He would be sending a rider to Mirkwood, to carry a message  
paying his respects not only to Thranduil but to Finwe, whom he  
heard was there visiting with his family. It would be good to  
be mannerly, so seldom did the families of the great houses get  
together. 
It was nearly dusk when they reached the high and winding pass,  
the one that would take them over the mountains and down to the  
Old Forest Road that led in one direction to Mirkwood and the  
other to Lothlorien. Pausing, he stared in the direction of the  
forest realm of Thranduil. In the green trees far away, he knew  
that the only person capable of making him completely happy  
dwelt. Some place in the cool shade of that forest, his own  
heart lingered. 
Sighing quietly, he spurred his horse forward and they moved  
downward, heading toward a flat place that was sheltered and  
green. They would camp for the night, resting for the evening  
and continue on the next day. Celeborn was expecting him. He  
would not be late for any reason. 
It was a silent group heading toward the grasslands beyond. 
************Close by ... 
He tugged on the reins of his horse, moving quietly toward the  
door of the stables. Beyond, the sky was darkening, heading  
towards nightfall and the coming of the stars. Everyone was at  
supper, taking a break from the festivities of the day. His  
family was expecting him but he was not going to oblige. 
Earlier, after the shooting match was finished, a messenger had  
ridden in. He had gone to the King and had delivered messages  
that were urgent. Orc trouble on the northeastern most edge of  
his holdings, he was told but it was being accounted for by his  
guard. He had heard word he had not expected, of a party passing  
nearby and it had prompted his present decision. 
He slipped through the stable, walking as quietly as he could  
and when he reached the doors, he peered out, noting that no  
one would notice a single rider leaving in the gathering gloom.  
With exceptionally casual indifference, he walked out and  
mounted, moving slowly and deliberately through the courtyard  
to the gates beyond that led to the wandering trails that led  
to other places. 
Legolas sighed as he slipped away, certain that no one would  
notice that the son of the King was riding at such an odd hour  
of the day. He passed the first set of sentries and then moved  
onward, disappearing into the dark forest that lined the trail  
out of Mirkwood and his father's home. As he left, he didn't  
notice that his brothers were watching, standing silently  
together on a verandah nearby, wine glasses in hand. 
Behind them, their laughter spilling out of the doorway, the  
families of two noble clans dined together. They didn't know  
that the link in a hopefully common chain begun by Thranduil's  
aching desire was slipping away into the darkness. Alanel sighed,  
sipping his wine. Galdor glanced at him, a smirk on his face. 
"I wonder where the whelp is going?" 
"I am not sure. He didn't check his travel plans with me before  
leaving," Alanel replied dryly. 
"I am hearing that a certain great lord of majesty is hard on  
the trail to the Lady's Wood." 
"So it is told to me also," Alanel replied, his voice neutral. 
"I can only suppose that it would be favorable to the course of  
our family and her relations with certain lords of other lands  
that such a happenstance be monitored against such alliances as  
would vex our father?" 
Alanel emptied his glass and turned, handing it to his brother.  
"Good idea, Galdor. I nominate myself." Turning, he moved to  
leave when Galdor cleared his throat. Turning, he paused. "Yes?" 
"You would go alone and deprive me of much opportunity to see  
how the other half lives?" 
"Why, yes, Galdor. I pull rank. Enjoy your dinner." 
With that, Alanel hurried down the steps toward the stable where  
he mounted a horse that had been tied there by an errant rider.  
Turning, he hurried through the courtyard and into the forest  
beyond, disappearing almost immediately into the dark foliage.  
Galdor watched, mildly put out over the situation as it stood  
and then turned, walking back inside where the supper continued  
unabated. 
**********Miles down the road ... 
He saw their lights even before he was certain of whom it was  
he had come upon once he cleared a small knoll. They twinkled  
like insects on a hot summer's night and he watched them, aware  
of his rising turmoil even as he held himself in check with his  
iron emotional control. Below was an encampment and in that  
encampment was someone he longed to see. He could feel the  
aching of his body as he remembered a familiar touch, someone  
who had held him and made him feel loved. 
Elrond was there, staying over for the night on his journey to  
Lothlorien. He was going to visit his father-in-law and discuss  
business mutual to both, of that Legolas was clear. He wondered  
as he dismounted and tied his horse to a tree if the great Lord  
of the Valley was thinking of him. 
Sighing with anxiety, Legolas began to creep closer, moving ever  
downward toward the light, hearing as he did faint voices talking  
and the clink of glass on glass. Horses snuffled softly, aware of  
his presence. He could see armed elves standing and sitting  
around the central tents of the encampment. 
Elrond's tent was near the middle, a small military issue and  
from the light that emanated within, he could see that it was  
empty. Frustration crept in as he knelt and paused, wondering  
where to look now. He didn't want to let anyone know he was here,  
afraid and uncertain as he was about his situation. His father  
could never know he came here. He could never know that the  
longing in his heart was as hurtful as a dagger wound. 
He rose and turned left, moving slowly and without sound toward a  
small hill that rose behind the encampment. He would climb to the  
top and have better access to the layout below. Moving through  
dew covered grass, he crept to the top, pausing and turning to  
look downward once again. As he did, he could almost feel the  
smile that greeted him from the darkness nearby. 
********** 
He had come to the small hill and had sat on a stone near the  
foot of a giant green tree. It had been restful coming here  
after a long day in the saddle. Ithil was bright overhead,  
nearly full and round and he looked at it as he went through  
the meditations that had informed his evening ritual through  
a life time. Sitting alone, he had felt relief from the torment  
of company this close to Mirkwood. It was north of where he was,  
this place that held his heart and he felt the pull of his  
desires with deep intensity. 
He sat dressed in white shirt and dark leggings, the trappings  
of his dignity and the high office that was his cast aside on  
the travel cot that was his bed. He came here shorn of symbols  
and weapons, his hair loosened from its bindings as he sought in  
meditation what he had not felt for days. 
When he saw the figure emerge from the gloom, heading stealthily  
toward him, he had shrunk back, blending in more as he strained  
to ascertain whom it might be that would disturb his peace. A  
figure emerged, haloed against the bright moon and he felt a pang  
of gratitude and surprise flash through him like the slicing of a  
sharp and merciless blade. 
Blond hair glistened, silver and gold and the tall figure of a  
beloved and much missed companion formed before his eyes. He  
almost didn't allow himself to feel hope as he rose and stood,  
staring at the apparition as if it were a ghost. The figure  
paused a moment and then rose, turning toward him as he stared  
into the gloom. 
"You're here," it said, the soft elegant voice of the one who  
owned his heart and then he felt himself moving, magnetically  
moving toward that piercing and delicate sound. 
He found Legolas, enveloping him in his arms even as he was  
enveloped. The scent of him, of horse and forest filled him and  
he felt intoxicated. The familiar contours of body and lips were  
all that mattered as he merged himself as best he could with the  
silent figure in his arms. Soft hair, silken to touch, skin  
smooth and pale, lips as sweet as the fairest wine, this is what  
filled his senses as he struggled to believe that his dream had  
become reality. 
"You're here," Elrond whispered, stepping back slightly, his  
dark eyes filled with passionate hope. He stared at the silent  
figure in front of him, at the smile on the beautiful face that  
had filled his dreams night after endless night. He was here,  
standing before him, the taste of his lips ever soft upon his  
own. "You're here." 
"Yes," Legolas whispered, sighing as he stepped into Elrond's  
embrace. "I knew I would find you." 
It was silent on the hilltop as they stood together, the moon  
overhead their companion. The forest was quiet, the camp below  
unaware. Yet nearby in the woods, standing beside his horse,  
Alanel of Mirkwood watched them both with great interest. 
************************************************************ 
"You came." 
"Yes," he said, breathless with joy. 
They sat under a tree, the moon above shining in a star-filled  
sky. It was quiet and the air fresh, soothing to nerves frayed  
from surprise and joy. Legolas was here, he thought, sitting with  
him, the embodiment of his greatest and most fervent dreams.  
Elrond stared at him, searching the fine features for harm and  
found none. His relief and happiness was profound. 
Legolas stared at Elrond, sitting beside him on the trunk of a  
fallen tree. He just stared, memorizing the features that had so  
haunted his dreams. Reaching out, he traced a finger along the  
side of Elrond's face, watching dark eyes slowly close in  
pleasure at the intimacy. It occurred to him the power he held in  
the simple touch of his finger and the shimmering thread of his  
emotions, caught once more with surprise at such possibilities  
fluttered through his heart. 
"You are so completely longed for, my Lord," he whispered,  
sighing against the lips that brushed against his own. "So  
completely longed for." 
Elrond kissed the palm of Legolas' hand, the strong and calloused  
fingers rough against his own. Power lay in that grip, yet a  
tenderness he had scarcely remembered knowing as well and he  
clutched it tightly, as if should he let go, the vision before  
him would disappear. "And I, you, Melme." 
Legolas smiled and moved closer, staring at the hand that held  
his. It was strong and elegant, like the man next to him and he  
considered all that it had help accomplish in millennia of years  
stretching backward to days when giants walked the earth. His  
youth surged before him and then it receded, like a wave along  
the seashore. It didn't matter in the end, he considered, so much  
did they mean one to the other. 
"I had to come to you," Legolas said, his voice thick with  
emotion. "I cannot stay long. I just knew you were close and I  
couldn't not come." 
"You risk yourself," Elrond admonished gently. "Yet I am so  
grateful that you did. It is difficult being so close and yet the  
chasm between us is vast. I feared ever seeing you again." 
Legolas stared at his hand a moment and then rose, stepping away.  
For a moment it was silent and then he turned, staring at his  
lover with troubled eyes. "My father wishes me to wed." 
A silvery pain threaded its way through Elrond's heart and he  
rose, moving to stand before his lover. Resting his hands on  
Legolas' shoulders, he met his gaze evenly. "And?" 
Legolas shrugged, stepping closer. "He wishes that I wed a noble  
woman from the coast. I do not wish to do this. In fact, I mean  
not to." 
Relief was momentary as Elrond considered all the possibilities  
of what Legolas faced. "Your father is your master until your  
majority. If he commands things into being, you must obey him." 
"Not if I chose not to," Legolas said, a flash of a petulant  
youth once more gracing his brow. "I won't marry a woman. I have  
no inclination for women. He *knows* that but he won't heed me.  
He has made embassies to her father and there will be much chaos  
when they find that I won't be cooperating." 
"And what about you? The chaos for you has great potential for  
pain. And I speak not just for you, Legolas," Elrond admonished  
gently. "There is your mother to think of as well as your  
father." 
"I know," Legolas said, slipping his arms around Elrond's  
shoulders. "Let's not speak of it now. Just hold me. I have to go  
so that I arrive before the sun rises too high in the morrow.  
Please hold me and make me feel loved." 
Elrond enveloped him, the strong, slim body of a boy that had  
captured his heart. The spectacle of it, the shame of the past,  
it all meant nothing to him now. "You ask me to do such easy  
things, Melme." 
"Not easy," Legolas whispered, rubbing his cheek against  
Elrond's. "I know what you have paid to love me." 
"It is a price worth paying," Elrond said, his hands roaming the  
youngster's back. He memorized every contour, every line, every  
scent. He catalogued it against the empty hours of every minute  
they would be parted. "I cannot consider what I wouldn't do to  
have you near, what I wouldn't suffer to know you were mine." 
"I am already," Legolas said, enchanted by the passion of his  
lover's words. "I wish I were a poet. I wish I could say the  
things of my heart in a beautiful way." 
Elrond smiled gently. "You say what I need to hear. Poetry is  
overrated sometimes." Legolas chuckled, his soft sigh of  
contentment musical. "I love to hear you laugh." 
"I haven't since I left Imladris," Legolas replied, holding his  
lover tighter. He was late and the ride would be hard. He should  
go but he couldn't. "I have to leave." 
"I know," Elrond said, squeezing Legolas tighter. "I shouldn't  
hold you long. You must be safe going back. I can't have anything  
happen to you." 
"It won't," Legolas said, staring at his lover solemnly. "I won't  
let it." 
Elrond sighed, for a moment his sorrow apparent and then it  
disappeared behind the curtain of his iron control. Legolas  
touched his brow, smoothing the lines away. 
"I don't know how you do that," he whispered. "I don't know how  
you put a face to the world that hides all you feel." He kissed  
Elrond softly, shaking his head sadly. "I wish I could do it. I  
wish no one could know how sad my heart feels." 
Elrond kissed him, imparting into him all love and strength that  
he could and for a moment there was only two people in the world,  
two people and no one else. They held each other and then it was  
time to go, Legolas turning and walking along the hill to where  
he had left his horse tied to a tree. Elrond followed, watching  
him as he stood beside it, staring over the horse's back,  
watching the moon on the horizon. 
"The world is so big," he said softly. "I feel the curve of it  
when I look at the sky. Over the edge of my sight you live." He  
turned and looked at Elrond, tears stinging his eyes. "At no  
moment, day or night, do I not think of you. I wonder how you  
are, are you happy or well. I never stop thinking of you, Elrond.  
Every minute of each hour. That is how much I love you." 
Elrond nodded, the pain in his throat sharp. "And I, you, Melme." 
"Namaarie," Legolas whispered. Then he turned, mounting his  
horse. He paused a moment, profound grief forming on his pale  
face and then he turned, the horse carrying him out of sight into  
the darkness before him. 
Elrond stood listening, peering into the pitch blackness of the  
night, listening until the sound of hooves died away. He stood  
and stared, unwilling to move and allowed the magnitude of his  
grief to show. As he stood silently, he didn't hear footsteps  
nearby and when he turned to leave, he was startled. 
A figure stood before him, a familiar yet alien being and he  
paused under an intense gaze, waiting. The figure stepped closer,  
pausing before him, a strange look on his face. 
"You came too, I see," Elrond managed at last. The figure smiled  
slightly. "He just left." 
"I know," Alanel said, moving toward the hill and staring down  
the trail. "I need to go too." 
"Its a long hard ride back to your home," Elrond agreed, turning  
and watching the taller and older version of his lover. Alanel  
was as beautiful as his brother but there was something about him  
that subtracted just that much from what he could be given other  
circumstances. He turned and fixed his gaze on Elrond, measuring  
him internally for a moment. 
"You and my brother, I don't understand it." 
Elrond shrugged. "I don't understand half of it myself." 
Alanel smiled, a beautiful thing and the hardness of his  
expression vanished for a moment. "Yet you profess great love for  
him, this love almost a consuming thing. You by doing so place  
him in great jeopardy with his father and mother." 
"It is not what I wished for, hurting your family," Elrond  
replied, relaxing slightly. "There has been too much hurt over  
too long a time for more to continue." 
"But it does," Alanel replied, shrugging slightly. "It might  
always continue. I cannot see far into the future. What I can see  
bodes ill for both of you. I know my father's heart." 
Elrond nodded. "Your father and I have nothing between us but the  
past and Legolas. I am afraid for us all." 
"My brother is determined to go his own way," Alanel replied. "It  
is part of his nature and in the end his biggest flaw. It is not  
his right to ignore that which is in the interests of our people  
and our family. We all make sacrifices. Who among us knows that  
better than you?" 
Elrond sighed, nodding. "Yet, you cannot dictate the heart." 
"No," Alanel replied thoughtfully. "That part I am still working  
on understanding. Myself, I am given latitude by my father to  
have a life before servitude. Someday I will take up the yoke and  
forever more I will be the one who must do my duty. Until then,  
he gave me freedom." 
"Legolas, barring unforeseen circumstances, will never be king,"  
Elrond said. "You know it and I do. His marriage is not important  
to your kingdom. An alliance with my house will be beneficial and  
it will help heal old wounds." 
"For you, it might," Alanel replied. "My father mourns his own  
sire as if it were yesterday and the battle was still raging. For  
good or ill, so it goes. It is there, fresh and aching, in his  
heart and memories. It is the way he is and nothing can be done  
about it." 
"Not if you don't try," Elrond said, moving closer. He fixed  
Alanel with his gaze. "Things don't change unless its wanted." 
"I know," Alanel replied softly. With a sigh, he turned and  
started toward the woods, pausing on the edge. He turned and  
gazed at Elrond with a curious look on his face. "I'll be behind  
him all the way back." Then, without another word, he turned and  
disappeared into the woods. 
Elrond stood and stared at the moon for a long time before  
retiring to his tent for the rest of the night. Overhead, shining  
brightly in the velvet darkness, the great star that was his own  
lost sire shown out over the land below, a silent witness to the  
misery of his own beloved son. 
***************Two days later ... 
It was quiet in Lothlorien, the night breeze gentle after the  
heat of the day. He had been there for a day and night and now  
another day had drawn to a close. The road to the great city was  
filled with Elves going about the business of life in the Great  
Wood. 
Entering the talan of his in-laws, he was once more drawn to the  
restful and peaceful atmosphere of this most pure and Eldar of  
places. Dinner and conversation in the gardens nearby was had,  
Celeborn asking questions of his grandchildren and their comings  
and goings, a favorite topic of the two whenever he was in their  
home. By the time Galadriel had risen to retire, the sky was  
filled with stars and a walk along the river was in order. 
Leaving the gardens, walking past Elves going here and there,  
they finally made their way to the place they were accustomed. It  
was still and the air warm, the sound of water flowing prettily  
adding to the general feeling of well being that usually  
accompanied being here. Elrond took a deep breath, the sweet  
scent of flowers filling his lungs. He turned to his  
father-in-law, smiling slightly. 
"You have a way of asking questions without actually moving your  
lips that fascinates me," he said, turning to walk along the  
riverside. 
Celeborn smiled and shook his head. "You are easy, my friend. I  
look at you and I know your heart." 
"Most can't," Elrond replied, bending down to pick up a stone. He  
turned and skipped it across the water before a swirl of dark  
water devoured it. 
"They don't know you like I do," Celeborn replied dryly. "I  
remember all your incarnations." 
"You do," Elrond replied, nodding. 
"I am concerned about your present situation, my friend. I am  
aware that the young one visited you on your journey here." 
"I won't ask how you know," Elrond replied, moving forward with  
his father-in-law once more. 
"That is a good thing," Celeborn replied. "You are an interesting  
puzzle to me. You remind me of boxes inside of boxes. You open  
one and find understanding to learn that there is more inside,  
each wrapped differently, each revealing something new and  
unexpected." 
"That disturbs you?" Elrond asked, glancing at the handsome face  
of his wife's father. 
"It once did but then, I remember your beginning. I remember a  
lot of things, Elrond. When you agreed to marry my daughter, I  
was pleased. I knew that you were an honorable man and that she  
would be protected both in body and spirit in your care." 
"Poor fate, that it wasn't so," Elrond said sadly. 
"You believe that you owe something for her injuries," Celeborn  
mused, glancing at him. "You forget that even the wisest can't  
see all things." 
"I can't see anything anymore," Elrond said tiredly. 
Celeborn paused and picked up at rock, turning and handing it to  
his son-in-law with a grin. Elrond smiled and took it, tossing it  
into the river where it skipped and disappeared. Celeborn  
chuckled. "I remember when you were better at that." 
"Some things don't improve with years," Elrond said, smiling. 
"You have. You are a good person, a wise and most decent person,"  
Celeborn said. "You gave up a brother to Men, a King to death,  
you have fought wars and given aid to refugees. You have helped  
raised wonderful children and always you gave shelter and advice.  
For that, I gave my consent that my only child would marry you.  
Because you are a good man, I gave her to you. I knew that you  
would always do right by her." 
"I failed her in the end." 
"You sacrificed again. I watched how you tried to help her. Who  
among us still has the way with healing that you do? It was love  
and sacrifice that allowed you to let her go. I still grieve for  
the loss of her. For all that is past, my wife is here, forbidden  
to leave. For myself, I am not sure given all things being equal,  
that I will find it in myself to go oversea if the ban is ever  
lifted." 
Elrond sighed, nodding. "We are held in webs of the past and I  
don't know how to slip them. I want to but I cannot." 
"They hold us all fast," Celeborn replied. "So we stand firm and  
defend our lands and people, we suffer silently and we do our  
best. That is your genius, my friend. Your good and decent heart  
and your unfathomable patience. When the history of our kind is  
written, many will be the page that contains your story." 
"And yours?" Elrond asked, staring at his father-in-law with  
intense affection. 
"I want to be remembered as a good king, who took care of his  
family and remembered what is best of what we are. Here, we have  
done all we can, holding this fastness with the power of the  
Ring. Here, in this final enclave, what it means to be our kind  
is held against the future. Someday, when it passes away, the  
world will be a lesser place." 
Elrond nodded. "I cannot disagree," he said softly. Sighing, he  
slipped his arm through Celeborn's, the two continuing on.  
Overhead, unseen through the canopy, the brightest star in the  
heavens continued on. 
***************On a balcony in the Great Wood ... 
He stood in the moonlight, the fading light of the waning moon  
and stared at the heavens. The bright star above was his  
emotional connection to his lover, the reminder of older times  
and other realities. He had arrived near to noon, giving no  
explanation to Galdor where he had been. He had gone about his  
business and when dinner and conversation was over, he had  
slipped away. 
Elrond was in Caras Galadon, the great city of Celeborn and the  
Lady. The last time he had been there, the world had been  
overturned and he had been sent to Imladris to be squire to the  
greatest enemy of his house. It had been terrifying, this change  
but he had found in the end a peace he had never known elsewhere.  
Not even in the bosom of his family was he as loved and respected  
and needed as he was at Rivendell among the people his father  
disdained the most. 
It was a bitter irony to him, he considered, the choice that  
confronted him this night. As he stood there, he knew he would  
make it and it would be a turning point from which there would be  
no return. Sighing, he turned and walked into his rooms, closing  
the doors behind him. Standing nearby, pondering him without  
expression, Alanel of Mirkwood watched. 
************************************************************ 
Mirkwood ... 
They left two days later, gathering in front of his father's  
house with their retinue and half it seemed of the populace of  
his father's kingdom. He stood on the steps, nodding and  
murmuring, half out of the moment and half in. His mother was  
watching him as were his two brothers, Alanel's face a blank  
slate, the familiar smirk gracing Galdor's. He stood in their  
scrutiny, a bland yet cognizant phantom, enduring the last few  
moments of his father's most fervent desire with great  
forbearance. 
Elfwine and her family had made their farewells, lingering over  
breakfast as they talked with all of his family. He knew his  
father had made bans, sealing the marriage with her father even  
if he hadn't told Legolas of it. It didn't matter to him, the  
injustice of not being taken seriously. He had made up his mind  
on the long ride back to Mirkwood that his future was his alone  
to make and no one would sculpt it for him. If he had to make a  
break to be heard as an equal, he was prepared to do it. 
He turned, pausing before his brothers and then entered the  
grand facade of his father's house, disappearing once more  
into its opulent interior. Behind him, lingering with the  
rapidly diminished crowd, his family conversed with each other.  
Alanel disentangled himself and followed, climbing the long and  
winding staircase to the chambers beyond where the family kept  
their private rooms. 
Legolas turned into his own, the door slightly ajar behind him  
as Alanel halted, watching him as he walked to the back where  
he kept his private possessions. He entered, walking inside and  
pausing, cleared his throat. Legolas started, turning. 
"I didn't mean to startle you, Legolas," Alanel replied, his  
voice soft and disarming. 
"You would have knocked otherwise," Legolas replied, his chin  
tilted with challenge. "It would only be good manners." 
Alanel nodded and walked to the bed, sitting on it and turning  
his attention back to his brother. "It would." 
For a moment it was silent and then Legolas sighed, turning  
back to his chest, opened to reveal his clothes and other  
private things. "What brings you here?" he asked, deliberately  
not turning, averting his gaze from the cool and unwavering  
stare of his brother. 
"You." 
Legolas snorted, glancing over his shoulder. "Lucky me. What  
mischief motivates the honor of your presence?" 
"None," Alanel said, leaning back against the ornately carved  
headboard. "You count me low, Legolas. If I wanted to create  
mischief, I would have already, revealing to our father and  
your king your ride south of two nights ago." 
Legolas almost flinched, yet strong was his control as he  
turned, averting his gaze. "What ride is that, Alanel?" 
His brother chuckled. "You really fear me, don't you? You fear  
that I might be your enemy." 
"Aren't you?" Legolas asked, turning and glaring at his brother,  
his hands clenching and unclenching. 
"It would be easier," Alanel replied, sighing. "This whole  
business makes me gravely uneasy. I don't really want to know  
too much about things that are none of my business. This  
relationship with Lord Elrond, it is none of my affair but  
you have made it so with your many indiscretions." 
"I'm just supposed to be obedient and compliant," Legolas hissed.  
"I'm supposed to be a good servant of the kingdom,  
giving up all the hope and possibilities that might come to  
me on the unfounded belief that I might become king some  
day." 
"I doubt that this possibility will ever be yours but even  
if you and I agree, Father has his own ideas." 
"He does," Legolas agreed, moving to sit on a chair nearby.  
He sat a moment, quietly thinking and then glanced up at his  
brother. "You don't seem yourself. Why?" 
"Myself?" Alanel asked, smirking slightly. "Elucidate." 
Legolas sat back, a slight smirk forming on his own lips. "You  
seem less the spiteful bastard than usual, Alanel. I am  
somewhat cast adrift from my usual familial moorings by this  
new vision of you." 
Alanel snorted, glancing around the room. His dark eyes fixed  
on Legolas again, a smile forming on his handsome face. "Maybe  
it could be that I don't find the prospect of you going to  
another place so daunting. I would find an ally in Rivendell a  
lot more appealing than an enemy. Father is rather short  
sighted that way I believe." 
"An ally?" Legolas asked, slightly surprised. 
"You are going. Deny it. You are going to make the break that  
none of us could do, Galdor and me. You are going to go to  
Imladris." 
Legolas stared at him, assessing the elusive mood that animated  
his older brother. He had never seen him like this and he had  
few personal experiences to balance it against, so seldom did  
they interact together. Rising, he walked to the bed and sat,  
clasping his hands together. He stared at them, pulling his  
thoughts together. 
"I never thought about eternity, the endless passing of the  
years. If I did at all, it was with the sure delight that I  
would have all the time in the world to enjoy the woods and  
forests, the rivers and mountains. I never gave a thought to  
what it meant to be alone or to long for someone to share it  
with me. It never occurred to me that an empty eternity is a  
prison." 
"When we let you go that first time, we didn't have a choice.  
I watched Mother and Father anguish over it even as I felt  
jealous. It seems that their passions come easier to them over  
you than the rest of us." 
"You're his heir, his trusted and beloved first born. You have  
been with him all the long years of your life and seen his  
triumphs. How could you ever feel jealous over me?" Legolas  
asked incredulously. 
"Even as the mind reasons, the heart rules. Who better to know  
that than you?" 
"I only looked for beauty and joy and adventure. I looked for  
your company, that of Galdor too but it never came. When I went  
there, to Imladris, I didn't expect to be happy. I was unhappy  
here, Alanel. I just didn't know how much until then." 
"There is much to be sorry for all around," Alanel agreed sadly.  
"It may be too late to be brothers." 
"I don't want that to be true," Legolas replied, anguish in  
his eyes. "I have waited all my life for your love. I would  
not wish to end our family without a friend left." 
"Friends," Alanel replied wistfully. "A king has few friends.  
A king cannot afford them. How can you order a friend into  
battle? How can you afford to care that much for another?" 
"You must," Legolas replied, shaking his head. "A king must  
have people to turn to who will ever tell the truth, who will  
keep promises and who will serve him beyond mere form." 
"Perhaps," Alanel replied. 
"Lord Elrond was friends with the King, with Gil-galad,"  
Legolas offered. "They were friends and confidantes." 
Alanel looked at his brother and smiled. "They were lovers,  
my brother. You did know that, did you not?" 
Legolas nodded, looking away. "I know it. It is irrational  
that I feel jealousy over it, so long has it been in the past  
but I feel it." 
"Ah," Alanel said nodding. He sighed. "I hate jealousy. It is  
a witless emotion. I guess it comes to those who cannot or  
will not make their own joy." 
"Which is it for you, Alanel?" Legolas asked, squeezing his  
brother's arm. "Is there joy in your life?" 
"Sometimes," he said, smiling. "Sometimes when I see the sunset  
or when the flowers in the upper meadows first bloom. Then it  
bursts over me, unexpected and most welcome, the elation of  
true happiness that makes all the rest of life worthwhile." 
"Do you not have someone to care for your heart?" Legolas  
asked. 
Alanel smiled. "I am not at that point, brother, that I need a  
shepherd for my deepest soul. I am free to philander, to kick  
up my heels until some dark day when it is my turn to pick up  
the burdens so carefully tendered by our father, here in this  
beautiful wood." 
It was quiet a moment and then Legolas leaned over, resting  
his head on Alanel's shoulder. "I have always admired your  
steely resolve to do that which needed to be done. You have  
a good heart, Alanel. It makes me happy to know you better." 
Alanel felt a strange feeling surge in him, a desire never  
before associated with the youngster by his side. He took a  
cleansing breath and let it out slowly, gathering his disarray  
carefully. "Sometimes things happen, Legolas, that make it  
impossible to do what you should. Our years are a chasm that  
we never tried to cross. You were Mother's pet, the child that  
she could mold into her own image. And because of that ... it  
separated us, until now it is too late." 
"I don't want it to be," Legolas whispered. 
"We cannot always have what we want," Alanel replied. It was  
silent for a moment as they sat together. "When will you be  
going?" 
"I want to go today," Legolas whispered, tears in his voice.  
"I don't see how it can get any easier with time." 
"Then go you must," Alanel said, resignation in his voice. "I  
suppose I am supposed to tell you to stay, that you will  
wrench the family in twain." 
"I don't mean to," Legolas said, gripping Alanel's forearm.  
"I do not love any of you less for the helplessness of my  
heart on this matter." 
"I know," Alanel replied quietly. He smiled slightly. "I wonder  
if my appeasement would be so complete if I were standing in  
the same room as the nemesis of our house?" 
"He isn't the enemy," Legolas said quietly. 
"To the eyes of our father he is," Alanel countered gently.  
"If he were here, I am not sure my equanimity would hold. I  
am the son of my father and he the son of his. That's a lot  
of hostility over a lot of years, brother. I will do my best  
when next we all convene as I am sure your gesture will  
prompt." 
"With Lord Celeborn? He says that Father cannot talk about  
the past without consequence. It will forfeit his honor." 
Alanel chuckled. "You are so very young, brother. I forget  
that sometimes when I spar with you. The pup is unlearned  
in the ways of the pack. I will never stand against our  
father. I am his heir and his confidante. I am the one in  
whom the fate of our people and our kingdom is cast. I  
don't have the luxury of being the youngest." 
"But you understand me, don't you? You understand why I  
cannot turn from this path." 
Alanel looked into anguished eyes, the eyes of a young man  
caught in the vice of the most powerful grip possible. He  
felt conflicting emotions even as he felt betrayal. His  
father and his brother, he was being forced to choose. The  
hard decisions always fell to him. He reached over and took  
Legolas' hand, squeezing it. 
"I never paid much attention to you. For that I am sorry. I  
understand somewhat your dilemma even if I do not countenance  
it. I wish you had been different but you are what you are,  
Legolas. Of that, I am filled with anguish. I don't understand  
how you can love him. Maybe I am provincial and don't know all  
the possibilities that are open to people. Maybe its my own  
failing that this has all happened. I wish I had been more  
your brother and maybe you would still be here, a part of our  
family, a part of our responsibility. I do understand your  
emotions, even if I do not approve of them whole-heartedly. I  
don't have more to say. I wish I did. What you seek from me,  
my unabashed approval ... I am not sure if I can give it  
because I am not sure I feel it." He rose and walked away,  
pausing. Turning, he stared at his brother, confusion and  
irritation on his face. "I don't know what I mean. None of  
that makes sense." 
Legolas smiled slightly. "You sound like me." 
Alanel smirked, shaking his head. "Then we are both great  
bloody fools. Wait until tomorrow to part. Go in the daylight  
so that if you are attacked by orcs, I will not have your  
death on my conscience too." 
Legolas nodded, rising. He stood awkwardly for a moment and  
then he sighed, looking at Alanel with a sad expression. "I  
cannot believe this would ever be said, even as I say it but  
I shall miss you. I shall miss the possibility that we could  
have become friends." 
Alanel stared at him, measuring him silently. "We shall always  
be brothers. No matter what happens. Do not forget that, no  
matter how much you become ensnared in that Elf's witchcraft." 
Legolas smiled slightly. "I could never do that." 
Alanel nodded, rubbing his chest with his hand. "Well, do not  
rush things, Legolas. Tomorrow comes soon enough." 
"I shall not," Legolas said, nodding. 
"The Lord of Imladris will be in Lorien for the next two days.  
Do not go to Imladris," Alanel said, walking to the doorway.  
"He will not be there yet." 
Legolas nodded and watched as his brother left, emotional  
turmoil filling him. Turning and staring at his chest standing  
open, he began to pack the two bags that he would take with  
him to his new life. 
***************Lothlorien ... 
It was morning and he lay on his bed, unwilling to move from  
the comfortable cocoon of his blankets any sooner than he  
needed to. It was early in the morning, the sunlight pouring  
through the window of the room that was his. The halls of the  
Lord and Lady were high in the mallorns, beautiful and  
comfortable as they should be, the mirror of Doriath that  
they were. 
The grace of Melian, the Lady of Doriath, permeated every  
nook and cranny of this glorious abode. Galadriel, student  
of that gracious lady, had applied to these redoubtable  
woods all her memories and his ancestor's charm. When he  
came here, it was as if somehow he could touch his own  
parents, the two ethereal memories that only came alive to  
him in his dreams or in these golden and glorious woods. 
Outside the door, he could hear running footsteps. Rolling  
over, he sat up, considering what might be making this  
uncharacteristic intrusion upon his peaceful repose. Beyond  
the door, he could hear a voice whispering, more footsteps  
and then silence. Rising, he pulled on a robe, swathing his  
naked body with its silken comfort. 
Walking to the door, his bare feet padding softly, he paused  
and then opened it, watching as elves scattered at his sight.  
Alarm filled him and he gathered his robes, walking along the  
corridor toward the open space near the winding staircase that  
led to the inner chambers and corridors of the lovely treetop  
abode. 
Pausing, he heard more voices and so he began to descend to  
the next level below. As he did, footsteps approached him and  
so he paused, shoving his unfettered hair over his shoulders  
as he gathered his dignity about him. The footsteps continued  
and then a figure emerged, a figure of such unexpected radiance  
he felt his breath leave him. 
Elrond gripped the stair banister, looking with disbelief at  
the silent and drawn youngster standing before him. "Legolas,"  
he whispered. 
Legolas stared at him, his eyes filled with anguish and need.  
"Elrond," he whispered and then closed the distance, stepping  
into his lover's arms. 
Below, staring up with a pensive expression on his face, Lord  
Celeborn of Lothlorien watched with a small sense of sadness  
at the sight of his son-in-law embracing someone besides his  
beloved daughter. It had been too many years, this sundering  
and now it all was taking another, albeit not unexpected  
direction. Elrond would be stepping into a viper's nest, he  
knew, as he was sure from the turmoil he sensed in the  
youngster that his parting from Mirkwood had been a stormy  
affair. What it meant for their security as a people and as  
individual nations, he didn't know. He just prayed they all  
had the fortitude to weather what might come from this most  
unexpected and unplanned union of hearts. 
Turning, walking away silently, Lord Celeborn disappeared  
from view into the lantern-light confines of his house. 
The End