Title: What Cannot Be Had, Part Two
Author: Squirrelchaser  (squirrelchaser12@yahoo.com)
Rating: R
Pairing: Elrond/Legolas
Summary: Legolas sails for Valinor
      
      
      
      *~Part Two~*
*~Elrond~*
      The ship docks, and I realize that, despite the overwhelming beauty 
and vastness of the might sea, I will be glad for the stability of solid 
ground under my feet. I knew not where Cirdan would take us now that 
we are ashore, but nonetheless I followed him, leading Bilbo carefully as 
the sun made her circle in the sky, and day faded into night.
      I close my eyes and tilt my face to the sky, inhaling 
deeply…perhaps the air is purer here, untainted with evil or death…but if 
it is it escapes my notice; there seems to be no difference between the 
breezes that swept Middle Earth and the wind that sings through the trees 
here. 
      We walk on through the night, but there is no impatience in my 
heart to arrive to a haven. I find no overwhelming joy in my entrance at to 
the Undying Lands; for me there will be only rest here. Yet, my mind falls 
on where I was, on what I left behind: my sons, my daughter, my Legolas.
      I wonder what would have been had I not left Middle Earth with 
the Ring Bearers, but I am not sure if I have the strength in me to watch 
the land fade, its beauty diminish. I wonder what will come of those that 
remain; Elladan and Elrohir stay in Imladris, and Legolas I know has gone 
to dwell in Ithilien. And my Arwen…is she happy? Will she bear 
children? Perhaps she is with child right now…
      Bitterness rises in my throat as I remind myself that I will never 
know. I will never hold my daughter, round with child, hold the offspring 
of my offspring as Galadriel had Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen, in turn. 
Instead I will wonder, perhaps forever, unless some word of Elessar and 
Arwen reaches me from across the Sea. I think, sometimes, I would rather 
that word would never come, and I would be free to imagine to my own 
satisfaction.
      No, I admit to myself, I could not have stayed in Middle Earth. My 
time there is over; I am weary, I want rest. Even though staying would 
have meant more years of Legolas, I could not have watched Arwen fade 
as a mortal. At the thought of the cold hand of death sweeping away my 
daughter into oblivion, I shudder.
      Yes, I decide. I have made the right choice.
      We reach a city in the Undying Lands. I have yet to learn its name, 
and presently I find I care little. I raise my face once more to the sky, 
feeling starlight, the blessing of my father, kiss my skin.
      Celebrían dwells there, waiting indifferently. I know not how she 
knew of my arrival, but she knew. Her greeting was warm, but a greeting 
of a friend and not a greeting of long parted lovers. It is as it was before, 
when she departed Middle Earth we had parted our separate ways 
contentedly, and they would not merge again.
      I was led to my chamber, vast but unshared, and I was glad for I 
wished to be alone with the stars for company only. The room was wide 
and nearly circular, in a corner of the house, with a 180 degree view of the 
night skyline over the river mouth. 
      I perched on the sill with my legs dangling over the edge like a 
child, marveling at the sky which for some reason had ensnared my 
fascination. It seemed nearly the same as it did in Middle Earth; I 
wondered if Legolas and I gazed upon the same stars at the same time. 
Perhaps he was in Ithilien, looking up at the sky. I hoped he thought of 
me.
      My hand went to my pocket…yes it was still there. Before passing 
to the ship I slipped a beech seed in my clothes, with the plan to take with 
me to Valinor. I held no great love for the trees, but Legolas did, and once 
I saw him among them I understood why. He was one with them, speaking 
to them and understanding their replies, he was as tall and graceful as a 
young beech, strong, supple, able to withstand the strongest of storms. I 
needed something of Legolas to take with me.
      I leapt from the window sill; it was a short drop to the soft earth 
below. A few short paces into the empty land that lay outside of my 
window I knelt, pawing through the supple, rich dirt with my bare hands 
until I had a small hole. From my pocket I withdrew the small beech seed. 
I drop the morsel into the ground, cover it, and wait.
      Should the Valar bless the little kernel of life that I brought with 
me, I would take it as a sign that they would not curse my love for my 
Greenleaf, should he come to Valinor.

*~Legolas~*
      “If I were not already well familiar with the balance of elves,” 
      Gimli’s voice came from somewhere between my ankle and my 
knee:
      “I would reach up and pull you down to safety.”
      On my perch on the bow of the ship I turn and smile down at the 
dwarf, who peers up at me with beady eyes nearly hidden by bushy 
eyebrows.
      Estel had reigned as the King of Men for 122 years, a long and 
strong reign of goodness and peace. But he did not escape the Gift of Men, 
and had passed into wherever the souls of men rest, on the first of March. 
His son, Eldarion, now sat on the throne, and Arwen left her kingdom for 
solitude in the fading Lothlorien, and I found I grew tired of what Middle 
Earth had to offer.
      My thoughts fell again on Elrond; for the past century I had tried to 
think of him not to avoid grief, and had long debated the option of sailing 
to Valinor. For the first fifty years I had been relatively successful, 
occupied with the wonders of Ithilien and the joy that the coming of the 
woodland elves had restored to the land. But as time wore on my mind fell 
on him more often; I missed his voice and his touch, and my longing 
began to outweigh the happiness of where I was presently. 
      After the passing of Estel I knew it was time to depart, and the day 
I returned from mourning in Minas Tirith I started the grey ship that would 
bear me over the sea, with any who cared to accompany me.
      Gimli had chosen to accompany me though we knew not if the 
Valar would permit a dwarf in the Undying Lands.
      Anxiously I watched at the bow of the ship everyday in search of a 
shore line.
      After the fall of the Numenor the shape of the Earth had changed; 
any ship headed by a mortal would simply sail around and around on the 
sea, never leaving the circles of the mortal lands. But the immortal, the 
First born, the elves, could set sail toward the east and reach Valinor, the 
Undying Lands where evil and sin were things of the past. I was worried 
that we would never reach our destination, first of all because we bore a 
dwarf, and second of all because of my illegal liaison with the elf lord.
      On the other hand, my logic argued, Elrond did not return to 
Middle Earth; what else could be concluded except that he had arrived to 
the East?
      So I knew not what to expect, and faithfully stood at the bow of the 
ship as she plowed through the waves, sails full, hurtling toward what I 
knew not.
      
*~Elrond~*
      In time my seed had grown into a sapling, young, tender leaves 
reaching up and hungry, translucent in sunlight.
      I watched it grow as the years passed, and eventually the branches 
could bear my weight. I had never been one to climb trees (I left that to the 
more than capable elves of Mirkwood and Lorien) but I could see past the 
delta far out over the sea when I was high in the tree, concealed in the 
leaves.
      In my perch on high I saw a ship come in bearing my sons, 
Glorfindel, and Celeborn, each bearing news of Middle Earth, of Arwen’s 
son and daughter, but no news Legolas.
      As a century and twenty two years passed, my longing for the 
golden elf of Greenwood glowed steadily but ever bearable in my chest. I 
was certain now that I would see him again, and part of me wanting that 
more than anything, but my ever present voice of reason telling me it 
would be better if I did not.
      
*~Legolas~*
      At last! My fears proved ungrounded as we reached land, land that 
proved to be, indeed, Valinor, the Undying Lands. I had been granted this 
by perhaps the Valar, but selfishly I ask for more, raising my face to the 
brightest star, Eärendil, and begged him with all my heart to lead me to his 
son.
      Gimli saw my brief prayer, he saw where I looked in the heavens, 
and somewhere deep inside, he knew who I sought. He knew me too well, 
by now. Sometimes I liked that fact, others I hated it, but right now, I felt I 
needed someone to know.
      Water lapped at our feet as we lingered on the shoreline as we 
stared at the night sky. At long last Gimli said gruffly that we should press 
forward as he started off into the darkness, and numbly I followed.
      
*~Elrond~*
      Sunset had long passed, and I was propped up in my beech tree. I 
was growing drowsy, so sleepy I thought I had seen a ship crest the 
horizon. Or maybe I had only been dreaming of a ship, for I was so sleepy 
I can hardly remember alighting from my tree to fall into bed.
      
*~Legolas~*
      The city beside the Sea was lovely by night, and I would find out 
that it was even more beautiful by day, but that night I had only one thing 
in mind: dark hair over pale skin, piercing grey eyes that were my undoing 
in the beginning.
      There were greetings, there was merriment, there were reunions, 
and introductions to elves I had not met, only heard of. 
      I met the Lady Celebrían. She was in every sense the daughter of 
Galadriel, and I could see Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen reflected in her 
eyes. I bore no grudge against her.
      Glorfindel was there, as was Elladan and Elrohir, Erestor, Haldir, 
Celeborn, and Galadriel.
      “Is Lord Elrond not present?” Gimli voiced my question.
      Glorfindel glanced sidelong at me before answering, “He is 
unaccounted for.”
      It was Glorfindel who showed me to my chamber that first night. 
“Good night,” was all he said at first, then he hesitated, in the doorway, 
hand on the ornate handle. “If you are wondering…” The elf said slowly, 
“Down the hall, at the end.” And then he was gone.
      I wait impatiently, intending to wait until the nightly noises of the 
house have died down to find the gem I seek. I pace the room as I did so 
long ago in Imladris, but after more than a century of waiting I have not 
the patience to wait a few more hours. Heedless of who may see my trek I 
slip from the chamber and make for the door at the end of the long 
corridor. Without knocking I turn the handle and enter, only to find it 
empty.
      I am sure it is Elrond’s chamber; there is energy, an aura of quiet 
perfection and regality that still awakens a small twinge of awe in me. 
      I wondered where he was as I made my way through the rooms, 
and found the elf lord asleep in bed. I smiled to myself as I remembered 
long ago in Imladris how I ventured from my guest room to watch my host 
sleep, enthralled in wonder, shaking with trepidation.
      Nearing the bed I reached out to shake his shoulder, to wake him 
and kiss him and be kissed back. But my hand stopped a breadth away, 
and I withdrew it again.
      Even in sleep I could tell he was changed, as I studied his face 
carefully. The burden of his years of memory seemed lighter, his heart 
seemed less troubled by sorrows of the past, his face was tranquil, his lips 
curved in the slightest of smiles. I wondered of what – or who – he 
dreamed of. Elrond was still a lord, mighty among elves and men, a legend 
that still lived, but I no longer felt unworthy of his love. I felt at rest, at 
peace, at home where ever he was. Finally I was home.
      Stripping off my tunic and leggings I slip into the vast bed that 
faces a huge window that looks out over the river, the elf lord still asleep 
beside me. For the first time I did not care to look out to admire neither the 
stars nor the beech tree that springs up just outside. The only time I lifted 
my eyes to look out of the window was to thank Eärendil for leading me to 
his son.
      
*~Elrond~*
      I awoke slowly, and the first thing I was aware of was the fact that 
there was a warm, masculine body beside me. I crack my eyelids, turning 
my face toward the sound of soft breath stirring to my right. The first thing 
I see is a wash of pale golden something over my pillow, a breadth away 
from my face. Something is tickling my nose, and as I reach up to brush it 
away I realize that it is hair. Confused, I reach out as I blink my eyes into 
focus, and am rewarded with a handful of thick golden hair. I recognize 
the soft, airy scent of something luscious, intoxicating and addictive, all 
too familiar but long absent.
      It is Legolas! He has come to me in the night, a soft ray of golden 
sunlight that has slipped into my bed, preserved through the night and 
burnished into golden perfection in the morning sun. I cry out in surprise, 
falling on him with hands and lips, caressing and holding, both gentle and 
urgently violent at the same time.
      He stirs and his eyelids flutter as he yawns, then he lets out a soft 
laugh as he turns his face to accommodate my kisses. He whispers my 
name and I want to weep as I hold him, never letting go for fear he will 
slip away like liquid gold into oblivion.
      I crush Legolas to me, thanking the Valar and the stars that the 
golden elf of Greenwood has come to me.
      
*~Legolas~*
      I laugh as he laughs, feeling the joy that makes tears prick my eyes 
and threaten to spill. He sees my tears and kisses my eyelids, my nose, my 
cheeks, my lips. Burying his face in my hair he lets out a long, shaky sigh, 
satisfied.
      “Legolas,” he murmurs. Elrond pulls back slightly to look into my 
eyes. “How you have changed…but…” his face grows sad. “Elessar has 
passed, hasn’t he?”
      “Yes,” I say softly. “Do not be troubled,” I reached up to stroke his 
cheek. “He ruled long and well. Arwen was happy. It could not have been 
any other way.”
      “Yes,” he agrees, but I can still feel his sadness as I hold him.
      “Arwen would not have ever been happy any other way.”
      “Yes.” Elrond said.
      I know there is not more that I can say to him to ease the pain in 
his heart. I stroke his cheek and he returns my affections, his gentle, many 
pecks of gladness showered down on my face turning into a long kiss of 
want deep in my mouth. I shiver as Elrond’s hands open on my chest and 
slide down my naked body, and moan as they cup between my legs.
      “May I?” he whispers.
      “Please,” I return, tugging at the soft sleeping tunic he wore.
      Through the years I had forgotten the magical dance of 
lovemaking. I had forgotten how Elrond’s lithe body became hot and 
pliable against mine, I had forgotten the feeling of physical arousal 
mingling with emotional heightening, but I remembered all and more as he 
worked tenderly in careful preparation for what was to come.
      “You have changed,” he whispered.
      I could feel Elrond’s eyes roaming my body in a delicious tease 
that was both horrible and thrilling at the same time; he held my legs 
behind the knees, forcing me wide and vulnerable for him to examine and 
take as he wished. “How so?” I said.
      Elrond shifts close to me. “Your eyes still captivate me like no 
other, and they glow with the fierce pride of a warrior prince who bows to 
no one, but they do not hold the arrogance they once did.” He kisses me 
and thrusts, and I gasp.
      Intelligent conversation is forgotten as a pace is set, beginning 
down the road of ecstasy.
      
*~Elrond~*
      We were wrapped up in delight, in the gratification of the other’s 
body and soul, so oblivious to anything save the cry and movement of the 
other that we did not hear him come in, or see him standing there. It was 
only after we had reached the end and were murmuring softly to one 
another in the shaking aftermath that a tiny squeak of disbelief reached our 
ears.
      I turned my head to see a traumatized looking Elladan frozen in the 
doorway; Legolas had not latched the door in his coming the night before.
      “Good morning, son of Elrond,” Legolas greeted him without a 
hint of mortification.
      Startled into action by the phrase Elladan did not reply, but instead 
fled.
      “I must go after him,” I said. “Ai, Legolas-“
      “Worry not,” the golden elf reassured me, breaking me off with a 
kiss and grabbing hold of me around the waist to keep me from leaping 
from. “You must speak to him though…you know not…oh,” Legolas’ 
eyes grew distant. “Oh, of course, you know not.”
      I must have looked as agitated as I felt for Legolas sprang from the 
bed, wrapping himself in one of my robes, and gestured for me to do the 
same. “Come. Lead me to Glorfindel’s chambers, please.” Legolas put a 
gentle hand to my lips as I opened my mouth to protest. “Hush. 
Glorfindel’s chambers,” he repeated.
      I lead the way, thoroughly bemused and half expecting all to come 
pouring out to rain justice down on our sinful heads. Coming to a closed 
door that bore a small golden sun in the upper right corner, I stepped aside 
and informed Legolas, “Glorfindel. Though I wonder why you do not seek 
Elladan.”
      Legolas’ mouth formed the smallest of mysterious smiles that, for 
all my wisdom, still had me foiled. The golden elf rapped on the door, and 
once given permission from Glorfindel within, turned the handle and 
entered.
      My wrist was grabbed as I was led into the room behind Legolas.

*~Legolas~*
      Glorfindel sat propped against the head board, blankets drawn 
about his waist, deep golden hair as bright as the sun from the light that 
streamed in the window. He nodded in greeting, one hand reaching out to 
rest on the knee and placating the distraught looking Elladan that perched 
on the edge of the bed.
      I sat Elrond down gently on a lounge that was near the bed, and 
looked Elladan steadily in the eye. For a moment I was unnerved, as at 
first glance his eyes were identical to his father’s, but once studied they 
held not the wisdom of thousands of years, the sadness nor the joy, and a 
little less of the nobleness. His eyes held more of my experiences of 
Middle Earth, and realizing this I was comforted, and asked, “Are you 
angry, Elladan?”
      “Yes,” he replied immediately.
      Beside me Elrond winced, and drew himself up straighter.
      “No,” Elladan said softly after a moment’s silence. “I knew…I 
think. Maybe. Glorfindel hinted at it to me several times before. But, 
Adar, I just never thought…”
      Elrond raised one eyebrow at his friend and his son but did not say 
a word.
      “I think it is time that your father be held privy to what Legolas 
discovered so long ago in Imladris.” Glorfindel took Elladan’s hand and 
turned to Elrond, who still had one eyebrow raised and sat in cold, stony 
silence. “My friend, you are not the only one who seeks such liaisons.”
      Elrond blanched. For all the wisdom, kindness, and Eldar greatness 
he embodied, he did not look it now; now he was only a father, who stared 
at his son with emotions that I could not understand.
      “Elrond,” I said softly, touching his hand. I wanted a reaction from 
him, anything.
      
*~Elrond~*
      My first reaction was anger. For a few horrible moments I had 
visions of this legendary Balrog slayer seducing my young and innocent 
son, and the thought made my chest constrict painfully. Then I mentally 
shook myself and reminded myself of Glorfindel’s kindness, his integrity; 
I had known him for many millennia and there was no dishonor in his 
character. “How long?” I asked pensively.
      “Since Arwen’s birth,” Elladan said timidly.
      He had been very young then, though at least he was past his 
majority. I wondered how Glorfindel could have fallen in love with a 
being he had cradled in his arms as an infant, helped rear through 
childhood, and celebrated coming of age with. I felt my face grew paler at 
the thought.
      “Elrond,”
      Legolas’ hand curled around my own.
      I lifted my face to look into his eyes, his deep blue eyes that first 
pierced me to the heart on the first day of Council. I looked from Legolas 
to Glorfindel, who stares at me, then looked to Elladan, who stares down 
at his hands which are clasped in Glorfindel’s.
      Glorfindel, a reborn legend, mighty, famed, golden as the Golden 
Flower that his house was named for back in Gondolin…my Elladan, 
older than his brother by a few minutes, born in the beginning of the Third 
Age, dark headed and grey eyed as myself…my beloved son. I looked 
back at Legolas…my proud, golden Legolas, born in Mirkwood to 
Thranduil King of the Silvan elves at the beginning of the Third Age, one 
of the Nine Walkers…
      I sighed. I wondered what it would have been like to have held 
Legolas as a babe, and had I done so, could I have stopped myself from 
becoming his lover in the years to come?
      “Elladan,” I say quietly. “Glorfindel, if you find happiness in the 
company and love of one another, I cannot stop you.”
      Elladan looks up and me and smiles, close lipped.
      “I love you too,” I remind him, and he smiles genuinely.
      “It was a secret I was loathe to keep from you, my friend,” 
Glorfindel settles back into his nest and Elladan rests his head on 
Glorfindel’s chest. “I am sorry if you felt that there was deception.”
      “Yet secret was necessary,” I reply. “And secret it must remain.” I 
cradle Legolas to me, and somehow feel relief and joy that there are two 
other beings in all of Valinor that share the burden of forbidden love, 
which few others can understand and accept.