Title: Undone part 1 

Author: Neldluva 

Author's Email: neldluva@hotmail.com 

Pairings: Glorfindel/Legolas 

Rating: NC 17 

Warnings: MPREG (wow, my first!), angst (major), slash (obviously), um 
. . . it’s sad.  Does that fall under “angst”?  But it’s really sad.

Summary: A simple matter of seduction has unforeseen consequences.

Feedback: necessary to life

      A/N: Yeah, you read it, my first MPREG.  This started out as one 
thing and ended up another.  How about that?  Well, anyway, it’s really 
long, but it’s worth it.  A few notes about dates and ages: this takes place 
at about the year 1041 of the Third Age.  This means that Mirkwood is 
still being called Greenwood, okay?  Also, according to Tolkien, Elladan 
and Elrohir were born the year 130 of the Third age, and Arwen was born 
the year 241.  According to good old PJ, Legolas was born in the year 87.  
Therefore, Legolas is about 944 years old, Elladan and Elrohir are about 
911 (ha, that’s funny!  I didn’t mean for it to work out like that!), and 
Arwen is about 800.  Just wanted to get all that cleared up.

      One more thing: If you’ve read my other story, you know my 
Legolas has dark hair.  Don’t argue, that’s just the way it is.  I never really 
went for the blond thing.  Hope it doesn’t mess you all up!  And I own 
Legolas’s brothers, sister, and anybody else you don’t recognize!
      
PS: thanks to Ginny Reilly for the song!  I listened to it when I was little, 
and I thought it set the scene well, so . . .

Enjoy please! 

      %%%%%
      
      Glorfindel shoved the stray pieces of golden hair out of his eyes 
and sighed.  He disliked the trees in this forest.  They whispered things 
that trees shouldn’t whisper.
      
      The forest was Greenwood.  Glorfindel, a captain of Imladris, 
advisor to Lord Elrond, and reborn Elf, was accompanying his lord and 
household to the realm of King Thranduil in Greenwood.  The trip was 
made with the pretence of politics, but Glorfindel knew that the true 
reason was to find a mate for Elrond’s youngest, his daughter Arwen, 
hopefully in the youngest of the Greenwood Princes.
      
      Glorfindel yawned and tucked hair back behind his pointed ear.  
He personally thought the journey was folly.  Arwen was barely eight 
hundred years of age, hardly old enough to even be thinking about 
marriage.  Most likely Elrond wished her out of the house.  The 
combination of Arwen and her brothers, three young Elflings, was enough 
to drive the household nearly to insanity.  Elladan and Elrohir were far 
from marriage material, so the only option (or so Elrond seemed to think) 
was to remove his daughter from her brothers that Imladris might know 
peace for a day.
      
      “Perhaps you ought to learn to braid your hair better, Glorfindel.”
      
      Said Elf spun around on his horse to see Erestor, another of 
Elrond’s advisors, grinning at him.  Not that it was strange for Erestor to 
grin at Glorfindel’s usually less-than-perfect state.  As always, the darker-
haired, more scholarly Erestor was immaculate, even after weeks of travel 
and living from a saddlebag.  Glorfindel reasoned to himself that he was a 
warrior; he had no time to be perfect.  He smiled to himself at the thought 
of Erestor in robes less than unwrinkled.  Never once had the Balrog 
Slayer seen Elrond’s advisor in anything not freshly pressed and clean.
      
      “Perhaps I ought to shove you in the mud, Erestor,” he retorted.  
“You might benefit from some roughing up.  They say the Wood Elves are 
quite fey and dangerous.  Such cleanliness might tempt them to do some 
mischief.”
      
      “You forget, Glorfindel.  I too am a warrior,” Erestor said, drawing 
back his cloak to show the sword about his waist.  “I’d like to see any 
Wood Elf try anything against me.”
      
      Glorfindel grinned at his comrade.  Then, suddenly, dark-cloaked 
Elves bearing loaded bows surrounded them.
      
      “No swords, friend,” one of them said when Glorfindel made for 
his weapon, “or thou wilt find thyself stuck full of mine arrows.  May we 
inquire as to who seeks passage through our woods?”
      
      “We are the company of Lord Elrond of Imladris,” Erestor 
announced.  “I believe we are expected.”
      
      “Aye,” the warrior said, tossing off his hood.  “Pardon us for the 
wary welcome, my lords.  The woods have become none too safe in these 
parts as late.  Allow us to lead you to our king, my lords.”
      
      Of course, the warrior was an Elf.  His dark brown hair was 
braided back from his narrow face, leaving his wide, sharp black eyes free 
to see.  Beyond that Glorfindel could not see, for the cloak covered the 
figure well.  Glorfindel looked back to Elrond, seeking permission.  It was 
given, and he nodded at the Elf to lead them on.  The strange Elf gestured 
to his comrades and they gathered before the company.
      
      Erestor attempted to engage some of the Greenwood warriors in 
conversation, but they stayed silent, for the most part.  Glorfindel caught 
their leader, the strange Elf with black eyes, looking back at him in 
curiosity once or twice.  He thought that the Elf was a bit young to be 
leading his own patrol, but perhaps policies were different in Greenwood.
      
      Elrond’s golden-haired advisor turned around to glare at the twins, 
Elladan and Elrohir.  They were whispering some mischief behind him.  
Glorfindel sighed again.  What with the tales of the impishness of the 
Wood Elves, Glorfindel doubted there would be a quiet moment in the 
entire trip.  The twins, inclined to devilry as they were, would presumably 
take this opportunity as a catalyst for their trickery.  Arwen rode safely 
behind them in a litter with lady Celebrian, Elrond's wife.  The Peredhel 
daughter seemed to have learned the knack for mischief from her brothers.  
Once more, Glorfindel reflected on what a mistake it would be to make the 
young she-Elf mate at this point.
      
      The journey to the Elvish City in Greenwood took barely a half a 
day.  Dusk was just coloring the western sky when Elrond's company 
came to the cavern within which the lair of the Elf King lay.  Unlike most 
Elves, Thranduil had made his home beneath the earth of Arda.  Still, the 
cavern was supposed to be well ventilated and nearly as comfortable as 
Imladris or Lorien, not to mention easier to protect in times of hardship.  
The Wood Elves were a people of efficiency.
      
      The leader of their escort sent a scout ahead to warn the King of 
their arrival.  He turned to Elrond.
      
      “Welcome, my lord,” the Elf announced, “to Greenwood.  I present 
to you King Thranduil and his family.”
      
      With that, a procession exited the caverns.  First was a she-Elf of 
long dark hair and silver eyes, carrying a babe on her hip.  She bowed to 
the company.
      
      “Welcome, wanderers from afar,” she said.  “I am Harmae, 
Princess of Greenwood.  My father will join us momentarily.”  She turned 
to the leader of the patrol.  “Legolas?  What are you doing out here?  
Mother has been looking for you!”
      
      By that time, the King and his wife and two sons had joined the 
Princess.  Thranduil’s Queen, Tarasule, ran up to the Elf newly introduced 
as Legolas, the youngest Prince of Greenwood and Arwen’s intended.
      
      “Legolas, my dear, where have you been?  Look at you, you’re 
hardly suitable!  You have dirt all over your face!  How can we have you 
meeting your bride looking like this?  Oh, well, you will have to do.”  She 
clucked and fussed over the young Elf, pulling his cloak into place and 
wiping at the dirt on his face (which was invisible, even to the Elvish eye).  
He rolled his eyes but let his mother continue, coming to stand next to his 
brothers.
      
      “Let me extend my hand in friendship,” Thranduil said.  “Please, 
Master Elrond, your family is welcome to make themselves at home.”
      
      “Not too much at home,” Glorfindel whispered in an undertone to 
Erestor, with a pointed glance at the twins, who were whispering to each 
other again.  “Or we will leave Greenwood in shambles.”
      
      “Let me introduce my family,” the King continued.  “You have 
already met my daughter and heir, Harmae.  This is my wife, Tarasule.”  
She curtseyed, a comforting smile on her face.  
      
      “And my son, Brethildur.”  The eldest Prince bowed.  He shared 
his sister’s coloring though not her happy countenance.  He looked more 
studious than friendly.  His wife stood close behind, jabbing him in the 
ribs in attempt to put a smile on his face. 
      
      “And Tathernil.”  This Prince bowed as well.  He looked as openly 
happy as his mother, and was clearly excited to be meeting new people.  
Word had reached Imladris that Tathernil was newly married.  His wife 
curtseyed as well, an equally wide smile on her face.  Tathernil was a 
renowned swordsman and warrior.
      
      “And here,” Thranduil said, pushing his last son forward, “is 
Legolas.”
      
      Dark haired, black eyed, more inscrutable than any of his family; 
Legolas gave a shy half-grin to the company and bowed.  His eyes passed 
over the household as he righted himself again, and for the first time in 
centuries Glorfindel felt as though he was being tested.  “I believe we are 
acquainted somewhat already,” Legolas said in a soft voice.
      
      “Yes,” Elrond said, stepping forward for the first time.  “My 
thanks for your gracious welcome.  We are honored to be here.  Allow me 
to present my household as well.  These are my sons, Elladan and 
Elrohir.”  The twins leapt off their horses and bowed.  Legolas flashed 
them a smile, and Glorfindel saw the beginnings of a dangerous 
friendship.  It would seem the youngest Prince had a penchant for mischief 
as well.  
      
      “This is my wife, Celebrian, and my daughter, Arwen.”  The ladies 
stepped from the litter, and there was a general murmuring of the arranged 
Elves.  Galadriel’s daughter and granddaughter were indeed a vision of 
Elvish womanhood.
      
      A look passed between Thranduil and Elrond as their children 
shared glances.  Legolas bowed again to the ladies, looking curiously at 
Arwen.  Elrond cleared his throat and gestured for the gathering to 
disperse, but caught Glorfindel’s arm before he could leave.
      
      “Glorfindel,” he said, “I want you to chaperone them.”
      
      “My lord,” the advisor protested, “I am hardly fit for this job.  
Perhaps Erestor…”
      
      “Nonsense.  Just watch over them and make sure that they stay out 
of trouble.”  Elrond's eyes twinkled with unusual mischief that reminded 
Glorfindel of the twins.
      
      “You have far too much fun playing matchmaker, my lord,” 
Glorfindel said.  He sighed and pushed hair out of his eyes once more.  
“But I will do as you say.”
      
      “Thank you, my friend.  Oh, and Glorfindel,” he called as the 
advisor began to walk after his charges, “I expect a full report.”
      
      “Of course.”
      
      ~ Legolas’s POV
      
      I looked at Arwen, and she looked back at me.  By Elbereth, she 
was young!  I could hardly believe Father expected her to be married at 
her age, that he expected me to be married at my age.  We were the two of 
us sort of thrown together in desperate hopes.  But she was looking at me 
shyly, and so I took the silence to say something.
      
      “Good evening,” I said to her.
      
      “Good evening,” she murmured back.  Her eyes were downcast 
and she was blushing.
      
      “How was your journey here?  Not too rough, I hope.”
      
      “No, it was . . . nice.  I like to get away from home.”
      
      Seeing that conversation was getting us nowhere, I offered my arm 
for her to take.  “If you like,” I said, “I could show you some of the 
forest.”
      
      “I would like that,” she answered, and took my arm.
      
      Mostly we stayed silent as we walked.  I was a warrior, and had 
been for most of my life.  I hadn’t had much experience with “ladies” such 
as Arwen, only the warrior she-Elves of my acquaintance.  If I chose a 
dalliance, it was with one of them.  Arwen was like my sister, regal, 
contained, immaculate.  I didn’t know how to speak with her.
      
      “This forest is darker than the woods around Imladris,” she 
commented softly.  She glanced quickly behind her.
      
      “What is it?” I asked, looking back as well.
      
      “Father sent Glorfindel after us,” she answered.  And indeed, there 
was Elrond's advisor following a safe distance behind us, dark golden hair 
glowing in the gloom.  He didn’t look too pleased with his task.  “Perhaps 
we ought to give him a scare, something to report to Father.”
      
      “Like what?”  I was seeing a new side of this Elf maiden.  Her blue 
eyes were glinting mischievously.  I began to think that perhaps it 
wouldn’t be so bad to be forced to her company for a while.  Then my 
mind cleared and it occurred to me the name of the Elf following us.  
“Glorfindel?  Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin?  The Balrog Slayer?”
      
      She frowned like she was trying to remember.  “Yes, he mentioned 
that once or twice.  Do you know him?”
      
      “Only that he is one of the most famous Elvish Warriors in 
history!” I exclaimed.  “That is amazing.  And he is your father’s advisor?  
What is he like?”
      
      “Oh, he is a very good warrior,” she answered.  “They don’t let me 
out on the patrols, but I see him in the practice ring teaching my brothers, 
and he is a wonderful fighter.  He even taught me to use a bow, 
somewhat.”
      
      “Really?” I asked.  I was interested now.  “I could teach you as 
well.  People tell me that I am skilled with a bow.”
      
      She smiled at me.  “I would like that.  Mother and Father don’t 
approve much of my learning to use weapons.  Glorfindel got in trouble 
for trying to teach me.  They say that it is not a feminine pastime.”
      
      “Well, were you a maiden here and you wished it, you could 
become a warrior.  Many she-Elves choose that path.”  I glanced up; 
through the branches of the trees I could see that it was growing dark.  I 
knew that the forests were becoming dangerous to walk at night, so I 
suggested we head back towards the cavern.
      
      “You will want to wash up before the feast, I’m sure,” I said as we 
walked back.
      
      “Yes!” she said emphatically.  “I haven’t had a good wash in ages!  
I must smell like an Orc!”
      
      We laughed together.  Arwen, far from being the naïve and distant 
Elfling she had seemed before, was quite friendly.  I had found that we 
had much in common.  I wondered if her brothers were anything like she 
was.  I was, by a good hundred years, the youngest Elf in the City apart 
from my nephew, who was still a babe.  I was longing for company more 
my age, and discovered it in Arwen.
      
      I left her at her room and returned to mine to wash and change.  I 
thought as I ran the cold water over my face.  She was interesting, 
intriguing, a delightful friend, but I did not think that I could marry her.  
When Tathernil had gotten married, Mother and Father had gotten terribly 
excited.  That began them on their quest to marry me off.  Well, what 
more are you going to do with a fourth child from the crown?  I thought, 
sometimes, that I would be happy being a mere warrior in my forest, my 
quiet calm understanding forest.
      
      I pulled on my robes for the night.  I would do as Mother and 
Father asked of me, but marriage did not seem my path.  I scowled away 
the uncomfortable thoughts.  It was a night of celebration, a night of 
reinforced friendships, a night to forget troubles.  It would be the latter 
that I had the most difficulty with.
      
      ~ Normal POV
      
      Glorfindel entered the great hall beneath the hill.  The Wood Elves 
had arranged long tables that were crammed with well-prepared food.  A 
fire burned in the hearth, though it was hardly necessary with the heat of 
all the bodies.  The scent of smoke and birch filled the chamber.  Minstrels 
sat close to the hearth, playing soft, melodic music for supper.  There was 
a large area that was clear of tables, though, that promised dancing later 
that night.
      
      The Elf lord surveyed the scene.  Elves milled about, waiting for 
the Royal Family to enter.  He caught snatches of conversation here and 
there.  Glorfindel hadn’t had much experience with the Wood Elves of the 
Greenwood.  They were of mixed blood, both Sindarin and Silvan, as well 
as an occasional random Noldo.  Their eyes were quick and observant, not 
so much filled with knowledge from books as knowledge from life.  
Elflings grew up quickly in the Greenwood forest, they said.  Darkness 
encroached daily upon their realm.  Even a goodly number of the she-
Elves carried swords at their waists and over their formal wear.
      
      Such beauty in such a dangerous form Glorfindel had not seen in 
many years.  These Elves would be fierce lovers, much more so than their 
milder Silvan cousins in Lorien.  Glorfindel fancied he would enjoy a taste 
of what they offered.
      
      The music faded to a murmur as Elrond's family began to enter.  
They were decked out in their finest, the burgundy and gold of their 
clothing contrasting nicely with the dark blues and greens of the Wood 
Elves.  Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen looked excited and nervous to be in 
the new place.  A welcoming applause sounded through the room, and the 
family was directed to chairs at the Royal Table.  Right on cue Thranduil’s 
clan entered.  The dark, stern King and his tawny Queen entered, followed 
by regal Harmae and her husband as well as the Princes and their spouses.
      
      Glorfindel’s breath skipped a beat as the last Elf entered.  The 
well-cut robes accentuated his slender, narrow physique, leaving just 
enough of the pale throat to steal the moisture from the mouths of any who 
dared look.  His dark brown hair was mostly free but for some carefully 
placed braids, falling to just below his shoulder blades.  But ah, the eyes!  
The Elf’s wide black eyes combined the scared vulnerability of a hunted 
rabbit with the sharp cunning of a fox.  Glorfindel realized that this was 
Legolas, this was the youngest Greenwood Prince who was expected to 
marry Arwen.  Beneath the conservative dark cloak and forest gear, the 
Prince was a sight more breathtaking than any in the room.  And he 
seemed completely unaware of his appeal.
      
      “I know that look in your eyes, my friend.”  Glorfindel turned 
around to see Erestor grinning at him.  “You are on the hunt.  Which one 
of the pretty Wood Elves has caught your eye?”
      
      “Now, Erestor,” Glorfindel replied softly, “you should know better 
than to ask me such questions.  You know I never answer.”
      
      “Yes, yes,” Erestor said, and laughed.  “I suppose I’ll just have to 
look more carefully then, eh?  But sit, let’s eat.  The Wood Elves provide 
good fare.  A mere taste of this wine makes the room spin!”
      
      So the Elves of Imladris were introduced to the potent wine of the 
Wood Elves.  Supper was an enjoyable affair, informal especially with 
tongues loosened by the drink.  Even straight-laced Erestor let his hair 
down, so to speak.  By the time the third course was finished he was 
getting quite friendly with the she-Elf sitting next to him.
      
      “So Glorfindel,” said Elrond.  The Elf Lord’s eyes were glassy, 
and he was grinning in a way not quite fit for a political discussion.  
“What do you have to report on my daughter and her intended, my 
friend?”
      
      “There is little to say, my lord,” Glorfindel began.  He noticed that 
his voice was slurring slightly.  Perhaps more wine . . . “The Prince took 
your daughter on a tour of some of the surrounding woods.  It seemed to 
me that they got along quite well.”
      
      “Good, good,” Elrond said.  He turned to the King, who sat next to 
him.  “Thranduil, your wine should be outlawed!  Ai, I fear I shall say 
something I do not want said!”
      
      “ ’Tis not likely you’ll be heard over our drums, my lord!” 
Thranduil answered.  He gestured to the minstrels, who had quickened the 
pace of their music.  The Elves began to arrange themselves into couples 
and groups for the dancing.
      
      There was not a race in Middle-earth to rival the Wood Elves in 
their dancing skill.  Even had Glorfindel not imbibed a goodly amount of 
wine, the room would have spun.  The dance was like a whirlpool, 
dragging him into it.  Partner after partner, feet stepping in moves they had 
nearly forgotten.
      
      Finally, he was allowed to rest.  His current dancing partner, a 
young she-Elf with long silvery-white hair, pulled him to the outer edge of 
the circle.  She laughed, and pointed his gaze toward the center.  Young 
Prince Legolas and his pretty partner were demonstrating their 
considerable skill.  Their feet were little more than blurs as they 
exchanged steps.  It was intricate, flowing, beautiful.  Glorfindel drank in 
the sight of the handsome Prince.
      
      The dance finished and the dancers bowed.  Legolas had a joyous 
youthful smile on his face as the audience cheered the show.  Glorfindel 
felt a jab in his ribs.
      
      “Glorfindel,” Erestor said with a hiccup.  The she-Elf was on his 
arm, playing with his hair.  “Glorfindel, be a dear and tell Elrond I’m 
going to bed, will you?  I’ve had a – erm, a long day.”
      
      “Of course, my friend,” Glorfindel said with a sly glance and a 
wink.  “Have fun.”
      
      Erestor nodded gratefully and swept off with the she-Elf.  
Glorfindel’s attention returned to the Prince.  He was resting after his 
exertions and conversed animatedly with the twins.  His eyes shone, and 
with his hair pleasantly mussed he looked perfectly delectable.
      
      ~
      
      Glorfindel groaned as he awoke.  Sweet Elbereth, what trouble had 
he gotten into the night before?  He could hardly remember past Prince 
Legolas’s black eyes shining gleefully as he spun around the dance floor.
      
      There was a warm body next to him on the bed.  Tentatively, 
Glorfindel turned to see whom his bedmate was.  He breathed a sigh of 
relief as he recognized the silvery hair of the she-Elf from the night before.  
She was on her side, back facing him, and apparently still asleep.  Beneath 
his gaze she began to stir.  She stretched long and rolled over to face him.
      
      “Good morning, my lord,” she greeted him.  The hair falling over 
her neck did nothing to cover her nakedness, and Glorfindel felt desire rise 
within him again.  “Did you sleep well last night?”
      
      “Yes,” he answered as he kissed her cheek, “thanks to you, I’m 
sure.”
      
      She laughed and brushed the hair from his eyes.  “I played a part.  
But the entertainment was mutual, my lord.”
      
      “I’m glad to hear that,” he said.  He threw a leg over hers and 
kissed her more thoroughly.  “Care to do it again?”
      
      She only laughed and pushed him away.  “Tempting as the offer is, 
my lord, I’m afraid I have to refuse.  My patrol leaves this morning, and I 
must go prepare.”  She rolled out of bed and began to dress.
      
      “What was your name?  I fear that if you told me, I have forgotten 
it.”  Glorfindel sat up to watch the beautiful she-Elf dress.
      
      Shirt half-laced and bearing a tantalizing view of her breasts, she 
bent to kiss him again.  “Lossuriel,” she whispered in his ear.  “My name 
is Lossuriel.  And I will look forward to our next meeting, my lord 
Glorfindel.”  With that, she left the room.
      
      Glorfindel fell back onto the bed.  He was sorry to have drunk so 
much wine the night before.  He could not remember a thing of the 
beautiful Elf who had shared his bed.  Oh well.  She had said in all but the 
plainest words that she would not refuse him should he proposition her 
again.  He would make sure he was sober when the time came.
      
      ~ Legolas’s POV
      
      I threw my bow over my shoulder as I ran from my room out to the 
grounds.  I had promised to meet Elladan and Elrohir that morning to 
show them around the forest a bit.  I had discovered that the twins were 
just as engaging as their sister the night before.  While they had refused 
the dance, they had complimented me extensively afterwards, saying they 
had never seen anybody move like that.  They were a little younger than I 
was, but we got along wonderfully.  Unlike Arwen, they had been trained 
as warriors, so we had more common ground.  I was looking forward to 
showing them what there was to see.
      
      But as I approached them, I saw another figure with them.  Warrior 
she-Elves were not an uncommon occurrence in Greenwood, but to see 
Arwen decked out as such was a bit disorienting.
      
      “Good morning!” Elladan called.  “You took your time, Legolas.”
      
      I scowled.  “I overslept.  I am terribly sorry to keep you waiting.  
But Arwen, what are you doing here?”
      
      She smiled mischievously.  “I’m coming with you.”
      
      “We couldn’t talk her out of it,” Elrohir whispered to me.  
“Stubborn as a dwarf, she is.”
      
      “Are you sure you wish to come, Arwen?” I asked desperately.  “It 
could be dangerous . . .”
      
      “She is going.”  I turned to see my father approaching.  He had a 
satisfied smile on his face.  “She is going with you, Legolas.  Therefore, 
you will stay close to the cavern.  The lady Arwen will not be subjected to 
any danger.”  He smiled indulgently at her, and she grinned back.
      
      “Of course, Father,” I answered.  Disappointed as I was that we 
could not go to some of the more exciting areas of the forest, my father’s 
rule was the rule.  He wished us well and returned to the cavern.  I turned 
back to my friends.
      
      “Come, I will show you the practice grounds,” I said, and led them 
away.  “This is where we come to learn our archery and swords.”
      
      I heard the Peredhil gasp as they saw the place.  Trees in 
Greenwood grew so thickly in some spots as to render some glades as 
rooms, complete with walls and ceiling.  I removed the bow from my 
shoulder and put an arrow to the string.
      
      “Do you still wish to learn the bow?” I asked Arwen.  She 
managed to take her eyes off the practice field to nod eagerly.  I felt a 
smile on my face.  “Here, use mine.  Now hold as though you were going 
to shoot.”
      
      I spent about two hours teaching Arwen proper archery technique, 
until she was nearly at the level of most Elf warriors her age.  She beamed 
with pride when she missed a bull’s eye by a mere finger’s width.
      
      “Come, Arwen, you must share the Prince with us,” Elrohir said.  
He and Elladan had spent most of the time watching us.  “Legolas, spar 
with me?”
      
      I smiled.  “What weapon?”
      
      “Do you handle knives?”
      
      I laughed.  “My friend, the knives have been in my hands since I 
was a babe.  But if it is your weapon of choice, I will agree.  Guard 
yourself well, Elrohir.”
      
      And so we sparred.  The weapons of choice for Wood Elves, if a 
bow was not handy, were the knives.  As I said, we were taught their use 
from early in life.  Elrohir fought well, but it was I who won.  The other 
two clapped appreciatively.  Elladan was next, and we used swords.  That 
fight came to a draw.  Elrohir volunteered Arwen to spar with me next, 
saying that perhaps she could win where her brothers could not.  We 
laughed as she blushed.
      
      “Legolas, what lies in that direction?” Elladan asked, pointing 
southwards into the woods.
      
      I looked where he pointed and shrugged.  “Trees.  The river.  
Nothing much.”
      
      “Let’s go explore!” Elrohir exclaimed.
      
      I frowned.  “I don’t think we should.  My father told us not to go 
far, and we need to watch after Arwen…”
      
      “Come on, Legolas, let’s go!” Arwen said.  “There’s nothing out 
there, you said!  What could the danger be?”
      
      I was still hesitant.  “Well…”
      
      “Come, it will be fun!”
      
      So I followed them through the trees.  Soon enough I took the lead 
to guide them more surely over roots and branches.  When nothing 
happened, I began to relax.  It really was nice to get away.
      
      I heard a branch crack from over my head, and stopped so 
suddenly that Elladan ran into me.
      
      “Legolas,” he said, rubbing his nose, “what is it?  Why did you–“
      
      “Down!” I shouted, throwing myself at Arwen to take her to the 
ground.  I heard something large leap past me.  Immediately I shot to my 
feet, knives at the ready.  My breath was stolen away as I faced my 
opponent.  A spider, much bigger than spiders were supposed to be, faced 
me.  If spiders have emotions, I would say that one was angry beyond 
measure.
      
      I struck at its legs, dodging the pincers and stinger.  It squealed 
horribly and fought back.  The only thought left in my head was defense, 
safety, get it away from my friends!  My limits were tested, but at last it 
lay in an oozing, mangled heap.  I dropped my knives to the ground and 
fought to breathe.
      
      “Legolas?” I heard from behind me.  Elladan peeked out from 
behind a tree, and I saw the eyes of the others with him.  They looked 
scared.  “Legolas, are you all right?”
      
      Suddenly, I felt the strength leave my legs and I collapsed to the 
ground.  I heard Arwen scream.  Somebody ran to my side and lifted my 
head.
      
      “He’s wounded!” somebody shouted, and I felt a piercing pain in 
my side.  “Arwen, run back, get help!  Legolas, you must stay awake, do 
you hear me?”  But the world faded to darkness.
      
      ~ Normal POV
      
      Arwen ran back through the trees in the direction that she hoped 
the City lay.  She had a stitch in her side and breathing was difficult, but 
still she ran on.  Her fuel was fear.  Legolas had thrown her to the ground 
right before the spider had attacked her.  Oh, Elbereth, he had saved her 
life!  Then he had fought the spider so valiantly . . . when he had 
collapsed, an arrow of worry had struck her heart.  And the blood, oh the 
blood.  Elrohir had turned him over, and there was a gash in his side, and 
there was so much blood . . .
      
      She rushed madly, and hardly noticed when she crashed into 
somebody.  Fortunately, that somebody was Glorfindel.  He took hold of 
the young she-Elf’s shoulders and turned her to face him.
      
      “Arwen?” he asked her.  He frowned at the sight of the tears on her 
face.  “What happened?”
      
      “Legolas . . .” she gasped through her sobs.  “A spider, and 
Legolas . . .”
      
      “Spider,” he muttered.  Foolish Elflings, to wander off so 
recklessly!  “Where are they?”
      
      “This way,” she said, and ran back through the trees.  Over a root, 
ducking beneath a branch, skipping over a stream, at last they came to a 
glade.  The twins, one of them uncloaked, were bent over a prone figure.
      
      “Glorfindel,” Elladan murmured.  “Glorfindel, he . . . the spider . . 
.”
      
      “I know.”  The spider, giant monster that it was, lay stinking at the 
other end of the glade.  For a moment, Glorfindel was impressed with the 
courage the young Elf had demonstrated in taking down the beast.  
Though it would seem that he had paid a horrible price.
      
      Glorfindel peeked beneath the cloak covering him to see a nasty 
gash along his side and clothing soaked with blood.  Legolas’s face was 
paler than usual, and though he was unconscious he looked to be in a great 
deal of pain.
      
      “You three,” Glorfindel said to the Peredhil, “run back to the City 
and warn them of our coming.  I will carry him back.”
      
      “Shouldn’t we–“
      
      “Go!  Do not delay!  Tell your father what happened!”
      
      “Is he going to die?” Arwen asked, pale blue eyes filling with 
tears.
      
      Glorfindel hesitated.  “I don’t know.  Go, run and tell your father!”  
With that, the three ran off, fleet as deer.  Carefully, Glorfindel hefted the 
young Elf into his arms.  Fortunately, the Prince was light and he was 
strong.  Gathering him close, Glorfindel returned along the path towards 
the City.
      
      Legolas shivered, despite the two cloaks covering him, and 
whimpered in pain.  “Stay alive, little Prince,” Glorfindel whispered in his 
ear.  “Don’t let go yet.”
      
      There was a gathering outside the cavern when Glorfindel arrived.  
He ran past the worried faces and the inquiring glances.  Thranduil was 
just exiting his halls.  The King looked more distressed than Glorfindel 
would have imagined him.
      
      “Let him inside!” Thranduil shouted, clearing a way for Glorfindel 
and his precious package.  “Give him some air!  Come, my lord, we 
should take him to his room.”
      
      Along the way Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen accosted them.  “Is he 
all right?” they asked.  “Is he still alive?”
      
      The elder Elves were silent until they reached the room.  Elrond 
and Brethildur, both healers, were already present and waiting.  Glorfindel 
laid his charge on the bed.  Legolas cried out with pain and lashed out at 
the helping hands.
      
      “Hold him down!” Elrond said.  “Brethildur, I need your help.  
Here, cut away his tunic.  We need to get to the wound.”
      
      Only Glorfindel was allowed to remain in the room while the 
healers did their business, and only then because he could hold Legolas 
down.  The wound was cleaned and bandaged quickly, but Glorfindel saw 
a dark look on Elrond’s face.  The young Elf shivered, and Elrond drew 
the blankets carefully over him.  He motioned for the other two to follow 
him out.
      
      Tarasule met them at the door.  Her face was stained with tears.  
“Is he all right?  Tell me he will be all right!” she cried shrilly.
      
      “My lady,” Elrond said calmly, “come with me.  We should 
discuss this in private.”
      
      Thranduil and his Queen followed Glorfindel and the healers into 
another room, and Elrond shut the door behind them.
      
      “What has happened, my lord?” Thranduil asked.  He looked 
nearly as worried as his wife did.  “How is Legolas?”
      
      “Legolas was attacked by a giant spider, this you know,” the Elf 
lord began.  He looked reluctant to give his news.  “The spider managed to 
wound your son before it was taken down.  Along with a fairly nasty gash, 
Legolas has been infected with its poison.”
      
      The Queen moaned and sank into her chair.  Thranduil comforted 
her, then turned back to Elrond.  “Is there anything you can do, my lord?”
      
      Elrond looked uncomfortable.  “I don’t know, sire.  I have had few 
experiences treating wounds of this sort.  I can’t promise anything.”
      
      Tarasule moaned again.  Brethildur leapt unexpectedly to his feet, 
face blazing furiously.  “I told him not to go out on his silly patrols!” he 
shouted.  Those who knew him could see the sadness on his face.  “I told 
him not to!  I told him he would get killed, and look where he’s gotten!”
      
      “Brethildur!” Thranduil said sternly.  The eldest Prince shut his 
mouth.  “You will not improve the situation like this!  Legolas needs our 
support now.  Elrond,” he said, turning back to the lord.  “Everything we 
have is at your disposal.  You must do whatever is necessary to save 
Legolas.”
      
      “I give you my word that I will try, sire,” the Peredhel promised.  
“I would like to use the remaining hours of daylight to search for some 
herbs.  Someone should stay with Legolas while I am out.”
      
      “I will,” said a voice from the back of the room.  The company 
turned to see Glorfindel standing silently in the shadows.  “I will watch 
over the Prince, if you do not mind, Highnesses.”
      
      Thranduil smiled sadly.  “Legolas would like to know that the 
Balrog Slayer was watching over him.  You have our permission, my lord 
Glorfindel.”
      
      With that, Glorfindel bowed and returned to the young Prince’s 
room.
      
      He sighed as he looked down on Legolas.  He had tangled himself 
in the sheets and still tossed and turned, as though his body was physically 
fighting the venom of the spider.  His skin drew tight over his cheekbones 
and his eyes were shut, and pieces of his dark hair stuck to the sweat on 
his face.  Glorfindel smoothed back the hair and looked sadly at him.  He 
hoped fervently that Elrond would find a cure for the poison.
      
      ~
      
      Elrond sighed dejectedly.  It had been a week since Legolas had 
received the wound from the spider, and in all that time the Elf lord had 
been unable to find an antidote to the poison.  The Prince had steadily 
been growing weaker, and Elrond feared now that Legolas would not 
wake from his healing sleep.
      
      He glanced at Glorfindel.  The Elf lord had taken on the majority 
of the responsibility of watching over Legolas.  Of course, the Prince’s 
family had helped as well, but most of them were unable to watch Legolas 
battle with his sickness.  Even Elrond had to admit that it was difficult.  
The Elfling had been lean before; he was thin to the point of worry now.  
His pale skin had taken on a slightly greenish tinge, and his eyes had 
rarely opened the entire week.  Recently, his breathing had grown shallow 
and difficult and he had ceased to move.  The last worried Elrond the 
most.  Legolas had grown so weak that it was unlikely he could battle the 
venom much longer.
      
      “Highnesses,” he said when he had his daily meeting with the King 
and Queen, “I think I have bad news.  Legolas is losing strength.  I have 
tried every cure I could think of, but the poison is winning out.  I am 
deeply sorry to tell you this, but Legolas is going to die.”
      
      The Queen began to wail.  Thranduil looked blankly at the Elf lord.  
“There is nothing you can do?” he asked, though his voice was already flat 
with despair.  “You are certain?”
      
      “There is nothing more I can do,” Elrond said sadly.  “You have 
my deepest sympathies, sire.  I can only imagine the grief you must feel.  
If I might offer my advice, I would recommend saying goodbye to Legolas 
tonight.  He will be dead in the morning.”
      
      The Queen wailed harder.  There was a knock on the door.  
Tathernil stuck his head in, and at the sight of his mother in tears took on a 
sad expression.  He motioned his brother and sister into the room.
      
      “It is true, then?” Harmae asked.  She looked younger than her 
years.  “Legolas will die?”
      
      “Naught but a miracle sent from the Valar could save him,” Elrond 
said softly.  “Truly, I am sorry that I could not do more.”
      
      “My lord Elrond, you must not blame yourself,” Thranduil said.  
He held his shaking wife in his arms.  “Spiders!  And I suppose next we 
will have Orcs beating on our doorstep!”
      
      “Ada?” Elrond’s children hesitantly entered the room.  It was 
Arwen who asked the question.  “Ada?  We heard from the hall.  We want 
to say goodbye to Legolas too.”
      
      The small procession made its way into Legolas’s room.  Arwen 
ran to his bed and knelt there, kissing his limp hand.  The twins bent their 
heads and whispered farewells.  Then Elrond herded his family from the 
room to give the Greenwood Elves their privacy.
      
      Brethildur was making odd sounds as he tried not to cry.  Harmae 
took him in her arms and shushed him, but all the while tears poured down 
her own cheeks.  Tarasule took Arwen’s spot beside the bed and Thranduil 
rubbed her shoulders soothingly.
      
      “He was the best of us,” Tathernil said softly.  They looked at him, 
but he only had eyes for his little brother on the bed.  “He was truly the 
best of us.”
      
      “Be quiet!” Brethildur said harshly.  “You talk as though he’s 
already dead!”
      
      “Tathernil, Brethildur,” Tarasule said.  Her voice sounded bleak.  
“Please, you will distress him!”
      
      “He was so young . . .” Thranduil whispered.  “Come, everybody.  
We came to say goodbye, and let’s do so.  Legolas, we hope that your 
memories of us are happy.”
      
      “Legolas,” Harmae began tearfully, “you were always the sweetest 
and kindest.”
      
      “Legolas, I want you to remember that night, you were barely fifty 
years old, and we went out to watch the stars, and you found one, and you 
named it after me.  That – that was – that was the best thing – never 
change, little brother.”  His voice dissolved into sobs.  “I’m sorry I 
couldn’t save you!”
      
      “I remember the day I gave you your first bow,” Tathernil said.  
He seemed the calmest.  “You were so happy.  You had the best smile, 
Legolas.”
      
      “When you were happy, Legolas,” Tarasule said over him, “you 
were so happy.  I loved it when you were happy.  Please, let me see you 
smile again!”
      
      Thranduil lifted his wife from her shoulders, and the grieving 
family left the room.
      
      ~
      
      Elrond groaned as he slid into bed next to his wife.  He hadn’t had 
much of a good sleep in nights, and it was unlikely that he would sleep 
well that night either.
      
      “Elrond, it is not your fault,” Celebrian said softly.  “You cannot 
blame yourself.”
      
      He rubbed his face with his hands.  “Ai, Celebrian, he is so young!  
No Elf was meant to die so young!  What if it was Elladan or Elrohir?  I 
should look harder, there must be something I can do!”
      
      “Elrond!” she said, somewhat sharply.  “I know you.  If there were 
anything you could have done, you would have done it.  But such spiders 
have not been seen since the First Age, and all methods of treating such 
wounds have gone out of knowledge.  I have seen the boy.  Even were you 
to have a revelation, Valar forbid, he would be dead by morning.  So 
sleep!  You will wear yourself to death!”
      
      “You are right, my love,” he said meekly.  “Ever you provide the 
voice of reason in my life.  It’s just . . . if it were Elladan or Elrohir, I 
would flog the healer to find the cure!  Thranduil takes it so calmly, and I 
can’t understand how.”
      
      “He grieves in his own fashion,” Celebrian said, and put her arms 
around him.  “Sleep now.  The journey back to Imladris will be long.”
      
      The Elf lord and his wife had hardly gotten to sleep when a small 
voice disturbed them.  “Ada?”
      
      “Yes, Arwen?” Elrond asked sleepily.
      
      “Ada, it’s my fault,” the she-Elfling said as she crept closer to her 
parents’ bed.
      
      “What are you talking about, Arwen?” Celebrian said as she too 
awoke.  “What is your fault, dear one?”
      
      “It’s my fault Legolas is dying!”  She burst into tears.  Elrond and 
his wife exchanged glances.
      
      “What do you mean, Arwen?” Elrond asked.
      
      “I was the one who wanted to explore, I was the one who got 
attacked!  He died to save me!” she wailed.
      
      “Shush, shush,” Celebrian whispered as she cradled her daughter 
in her arms.  She frowned at Elrond over Arwen’s head.  “Shush, it will be 
all right.  It is not your fault.  It is not anybody’s fault that Legolas is 
dying.”
      
      “I’ll get something to help her sleep,” Elrond said as he kissed his 
wife.
      
      Eventually, drugged or not, all of the Peredhil residing in the 
Greenwood cavern were asleep.
      
      One of their household, however, was not.  Glorfindel crept into 
Legolas’s room after the family had departed and took his accustomed seat 
next to the bed.  He held the Prince’s hand and just looked at him for a 
long moment.  He had tossed the sheets around, and his chest was bare to 
the world.  His breathing had become so shallow that his abdomen hardly 
moved.  Glorfindel could count his ribs, and the Elfling’s eyes stared 
blankly.  He was just barely alive by the looks of him.
      
      “Did you hear them, Legolas?” Glorfindel began.  How do you talk 
to someone who can’t hear you?  “Did you hear how much they love you?  
They long so for you to live, Legolas.  Ai, Valar, I wish I had someone to 
love me as they love you.  You have no idea how lucky you are, little 
Prince.”
      
      He swallowed, then continued his monologue.  “Please, Legolas, 
you must live!  I know that I have seemed distant and unkind, but truly, I 
admire you!  Taking down that spider all by yourself . . . I suppose we 
both have had our fights with monsters, eh?
      
      “Legolas, no doubt you know you are beautiful, even compared to 
the rest of our kin.  Beautiful, brave, intelligent, I’m sure.  But I know so 
little about you.  Legolas, wake up so that I can learn more about you.  
Little Elfling, you intrigue me to no end!”
      
      Legolas shuddered in his sleep, and Glorfindel was surprised to 
find tears on his face.  When was the last time he had cried?
      
      ~
      
      Elrond slipped into Legolas’s room, closely followed by a grief-
worn Tarasule and a red-eyed Thranduil.  He sighed as he saw Glorfindel 
asleep by the youth’s bed.  He shook his friend awake.  Glorfindel blinked, 
clearing the sleep from his eyes, and let go of Legolas’s hand.  Elrond 
glanced sympathetically at him and held Legolas’s wrist, expecting to find 
a lifeless body.
      
      To his surprise, he found a pulse.  Not only that, but the pulse was 
stronger than it had been in a week.  Elrond frowned and looked his 
patient over again.  Legolas looked slightly less green, a little less fatally 
sick.  His breathing came easy, and Elrond sat back as he realized that a 
miracle had occurred.
      
      “What is it?” Thranduil asked at the surprised look on the Elf 
lord’s face.  “Is he dead?”
      
      “No, sire, far from it!”  Elrond turned to look at the King.  
“Legolas has made a miraculous recovery, the likes of which I’ve never 
seen before.  I believe that he will live, given a little rest and some proper 
care.”
      
      Tarasule cried out and fell into her husband’s arms, weeping with 
joy.  A slow smile came over the King’s face.  “Oh, thank the Valar!”
      
      All present gave a sigh of relief.  “How did you do it, Elrond?” 
Tarasule asked.  “I thought you had no more tricks up your sleeve.”
      
      “I did nothing, my Queen.  Legolas must have felt like coming 
back.”  He pulled the sheets up around the Prince’s neck.  “He must be 
kept under constant bed-rest for at least four days.  I will check up on him 
daily, but it looks to me as though he will pull through.”
      
      “Thranduil, we must tell the children!” the Queen exclaimed.  “Oh, 
they will be so happy!”
      
      Indeed they were.  All those who had mourned Legolas the night 
before paraded through his room, softly wishing him well as he slept.  His 
improvement was visible; he seemed to sleep more soundly, his skin had 
lost that stretched look, and his breathing was so much easier to listen to 
when it was not hoarse and raspy.
      
      ~
      
      A few days later, Glorfindel was sitting, as usual, next to the 
dozing Prince.  He was sort of reading a book, though more often his 
attention wandered to the sleeping figure.  He slept peacefully, now.  One 
long, thin arm was thrown over his head and his eyes were half-mast and 
clouded in sleep.  Glorfindel sighed and tried to return his mind back to 
his book.
      
      Then the young Elf began to stir.  For the first time in a week he 
blinked and cleared his eyes of sleep.  He frowned, looking slightly 
confused.
      
      “Where am I?” he asked.
      
      ~ Legolas’s POV
      
      The ocean of pain and fog had been steadily receding.  I had no 
idea how long the pain had had me in its foul clutches; it might have been 
months, years, or even just moments to my befuddled mind.  I was ready 
to surrender to it.  I was simply too weak to go on.  Eternal sleep sounded 
wonderful, I would give in . . .
      
      But a soft touch on my hand and a quiet voice in my ear awoke me 
from the spell.  I had no recollection of what the voice had said, but it was 
comforting, soothing, like my mother’s cool hand on my fevered brow.  I 
rose and fought the pain, as hard as I could.  I didn’t want to die!
      
      I blinked, trying to reorient myself again.  My vision was fuzzy, 
but I was able to see again, that was all that mattered.
      
      “Where am I?” I asked to no one in particular.  I could have 
winced at the sound of my voice.  It was dry and weak, and nearly 
unrecognizable.  I was surprised when someone answered.
      
      “You are in your room beneath the hill.”
      
      The voice didn’t sound very familiar.  Then again, my memory 
was not working too well.  I tried to move, but the pain came back, so I 
stayed still.  “How long have I been asleep?”
      
      “About ten days.  Are you feeling better?”
      
      “I suppose so.”  I shifted again.  “Who are you?”
      
      “I am Glorfindel, an advisor to lord Elrond.”
      
      “The Balrog Slayer?”  I turned my head to look at my companion.  
“You are Glorfindel of Gondolin, the Balrog Slayer?”
      
      He nodded, and I saw that it was true.  Golden hair fell in slight 
disarray down his broad shoulders.  His dark green-blue eyes looked deep 
and wise, even more so than all of the elder Elves I lived with.  Being 
reborn will do that to you, I suppose.
      
      “I’m glad to see you’re awake.  You scared us all the other night.”  
He smiled at me.  The Balrog Slayer had been worried about me?  “Do 
you remember what happened?”
      
      I tried to take my memory back to whenever I had been injured.  
There were many hairy legs and the whirring of my knives . . . “A spider,” 
I whispered.  “A huge spider attacked.  Did I kill it?”  He nodded, and I 
sighed with relief.  “And Elladan and Elrohir and Arwen?  Are they safe?”
      
      “Yes,” he said.  “I should go tell your family that you are awake.”
      
      “No, please,” I said, reaching a hand toward him.  “Please, stay 
with me?  I don’t want to be alone.”
      
      He looked surprised, but at last he agreed and returned to his seat 
next to me.  Hardly had he done so when the door opened and a crowd of 
people entered my room.  First, of course, was my mother.  She cried out 
and ran to me, taking me in her arms and weeping into my shoulder.  By 
the Valar, when had I become so thin?  Even my brothers, stoic as they 
usually were, had tears in their eyes.  I was forced to accept their blessings 
and hugs.  I was wept over, kissed, soothed until all I wanted was to go 
back to sleep.  I saw Glorfindel give me a knowing wink before he slunk 
out of the room.  I thought, for a moment, that I would like him back, him 
and only him, with his calm, silent regard that made me feel safe.
      
      ~
      
      It was another three days until they let me out of bed, and then 
again another five before they let me out of my room unaccompanied.  I 
chafed at the constraints but understood their reason.  It was like I had to 
learn to walk all over again, for I quickly became dizzy and often needed 
support.  Lord Elrond removed the bandage around my belly to reveal a 
long, wicked-looking scar over my side.  I felt only the occasional dull 
twinge of pain, and he pronounced me free of the poison.
      
      I was in the libraries one afternoon.  Unfortunately, the book I 
wanted was far over my head, and stretching my arm up pained my 
wound.  I grunted and reached hopefully, but to no avail.
      
      “Mind if I help?” asked a voice from behind me.  I turned to see 
lord Glorfindel, smiling amusedly at me.
      
      I blushed furiously to be caught in such a position.  “Yes, please.  
That one up there, the one on Valinor.”
      
      He reached up and easily plucked it from the shelf.  Well, he was 
taller than I was by a good head or so.  Instead of handing it to me, he 
thumbed through it.  “This is a good book,” he said.  “I read it many years 
ago.”
      
      “It’s one of my favorites,” I admitted.  “I like to read about the Far 
Shores.”
      
      “They are indeed very beautiful.”  He sighed wistfully.
      
      “What is death like?” I asked, then immediately covered my 
mouth.  “I’m sorry, I should not ask such questions, my mouth gets carried 
away . . .”
      
      “No, it’s all right.  I don’t mind answering.”  He was still looking 
in my direction, but I could tell he did not see me.  “There was a great deal 
of pain.  Then I was in a place where there was no happy or sad, no hunger 
or thirst, no love or hate.”
      
      “The Halls of Waiting . . .” I breathed.
      
      “Yes.  Time had no meaning there.  So it seemed to me a very 
short time until I returned to Middle-earth, though obviously I had been 
gone quite some time.  Everything was changed.  I found refuge in 
Elrond's household, and have lived happily there ever since.”
      
      “Oh,” I said meekly.  “That is amazing.  And not at all like they 
tell it in the tales.”
      
      “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear in stories, little Elf,” 
he said with a grin.
      
      I scowled at the endearment.  “I never really thanked you for 
saving my life.  They told me that you were the one to carry me back here, 
and that you watched over me while I slept.”
      
      “It was no hardship,” he said, and looked down at the ground.  Had 
he been a few millennia younger and not the Balrog Slayer, I would say he 
was embarrassed about something.
      
      “Thank you all the same,” I said.  “I suspect I owe you.”
      
      “Nay, there is no debt between us, Prince.”
      
      “If you don’t mind, I’d rather do off with the titles.  Having people 
address me as ‘Prince’ makes me nervous.”
      
      “As you wish.  If you want to sit down, we can talk some more.  
Intense discussions while standing make /me/ nervous.”  He followed me 
to some chairs.  I sat thankfully, still having not regained all my strength.  
He looked seriously at me.  “How are you getting along with Arwen?”
      
      Arwen?  She’d been to visit me once or twice after I’d woken up, 
but nothing had changed between us.  She was still, to my mind, a little 
sister.  Yet how to say this to her father’s advisor?  “She is a very pleasant 
young girl.  She and I have become friends, I think.”
      
      He nodded sagely.  “But not lovers.”
      
      I lowered my eyes.  “No.  She seems barely more than a child, still.  
And I, I am far too young to know the lady I would spend my life with.  
No, my lord, I am sorry, but I cannot marry Arwen.”
      
      “It’s all right, Legolas,” he said.  I liked the way he said my name, 
accented, as I had never heard it before.  And did I hear relief in his voice?  
“No one should expect you to marry without love.”
      
      I sighed and nodded, looking distractedly through my book.  “My 
father will be disappointed.”
      
      “Nay, he will understand.”
      
      “He so wanted me to get married . . .” my voice trailed.  “I don’t 
particularly want to.  I want a life like I read about, a life like yours!”
      
      He laughed softly.  “My life is nothing amazing.”
      
      “But it is enviable.  You do what you love, you ride out on your 
patrols to protect your home, you counsel your lord when he has need, you 
are free!”
      
      “That is true, I suppose.”  He smiled again.  He had a kind smile, 
one that I could trust.  He looked over my hands to the book.  “You like 
the illustrations?”
      
      “They are the best part of the book,” I answered shyly.  “They help 
me picture Valinor in my mind.”  I hesitated.  “I like to sketch how I 
imagine they look.”
      
      “Really?” he asked, curious.  “You are an artist?”
      
      “I wouldn’t say that, but yes, I like to draw in my free time.”  I felt 
myself blush.  “Would you like to see some?”
      
      “I would like that very much.”
      
      I smiled.  “Follow me.”  He stood and walked behind me as I led 
him down the hallway.  I opened the door to my study and let him in.  In 
my small, comfortable room he looked even taller.  “This is my study,” I 
said.  “Come here, you can tell me how close I get to the actual shores of 
Valinor.”
      
      He looked over my shoulder as I showed him my sketches.  He 
nodded appreciatively, especially of the pictures of Elves.  I basked in the 
praise.  It was nice to speak to someone who actually enjoyed my art.
      
      I yawned.  Though it was only late afternoon, I felt my eyes close 
sleepily.  Glorfindel put a comforting hand on my shoulder.  “Perhaps you 
ought to rest,” he suggested softly.
      
      I stood and stretched, still mindful of my scar.  “No,” I protested.  
“I’m fine.”
      
      I heard him stand behind me, but did not expect him to spin me 
around and press his mouth to mine.  For a moment I was shocked, 
standing still against the arms that encircled me and the lips that pleaded 
with mine to open.  I began to struggle, pushing at his broad shoulders 
until he realized what I wanted.  I threw myself back from him, feeling 
terribly confused.
      
      “What was that?” I asked.  I could hear my voice shaking.
      
      “Surely you know what a kiss is, Legolas,” he answered.  He came 
close, but I backed away again.  “Why do you turn away?”
      
      “Because it is . . . it is not . . .” My mind couldn’t settle on one 
thing to say.
      
      “Calwaquén, I have desired you from the moment I saw you in the 
hall.”  I didn’t meet his eyes.  It felt like trickery, all of the kind words, all 
of the friendship.  And he called me “beautiful” in the High Speech.  “You 
were so singular, so unreachable with those keen black eyes.”
      
      “So you fell for a pretty face?” I asked bitterly.
      
      “No,” he protested.  “I learned more about you, Legolas.  I found 
out, here and there, that you are kind and brave and quiet and strong.  I 
wanted to watch over you so that I could see your face when first you 
awoke.  Give me a chance, please.”
      
      I didn’t move when he came closer.  I was still pondering.  A 
chance?  A chance to do what?  Both of my two previous lovers had been 
female.  This was an area in which I had no experience whatsoever.  I 
didn’t know what he wanted from me, and didn’t know if I could give it.
      
      His next kiss both caused and muffled my yelp of surprise.  I 
started to push him off again, but his fingers had found my ear.  I shook at 
the first caress, moaned at the second, and surrendered to him at the third.  
His tongue quested into my mouth, devouring, tasting everywhere.  It was 
profound, thorough, incredibly unlike anything I had ever felt before.  I 
opened my eyes to watch him as he kissed me.  His brows were drawn 
together as though in deep concentration and his eyes were firmly shut.
      
      At last we parted for breath.  My hand clutched at my heart, feeling 
the frantic beat of my pulse.  I felt him smooth my hair, and looked up into 
his eyes.  They shone with both lust and caring.
      
      “I thought you were beautiful before, but you now outshine all the 
stars in the night sky.”
      
      I blushed, unused to such praise.  “I do not, my lord.  Such words 
are too high for one such as myself.”
      
      “I say nothing,” he said as he brushed his lips against mine, “that is 
not true, Legolas.”
      
      I bit my lip, feeling uncertainty wash over me.  What to do now?  
He must have sensed some of what I was feeling.
      
      “Legolas, have you ever . . .?”
      
      “No.  Not with a male.”  Would he then refuse me?  I did not know 
whether to long or fear for his rejection.
      
      “I shall guide you, then, if you still want it.”
      
      He offered me a way out.  I remembered the touch of his fingers on 
my sensitive ear and shook my head fiercely.  “No, I want it.”
      
      He smiled in satisfaction.  “Good.”
      
      I anticipated the next kiss and met it with all the strength I could 
muster.  No soft, yielding mouth of a she-Elf was this.  He demanded, 
controlled, which was probably good because all my senses were sucked 
down into some little ball, and all I could feel was lips.  He urged me 
without words to explore even further, and I took the offer.  I felt hard, 
slick teeth and a warmly welcoming tongue.  I was beginning to relax 
when the hand on my shoulder found a new place to rest.  I yelped again 
as he gripped me between the legs.
      
      “Bedroom,” he whispered imperatively in my ear.  His voice was 
deep and heavy, and I shuddered.
      
      “Through there,” I said, pointing at the door to my bedroom.  
Unexpectedly, he lifted me in his arms and carried me through the door.  
Tentatively, I ran my hands through his hair.  Never had I seen it perfectly 
bound, as it was for Elrond's other advisor.  Always there were some 
messy pieces that refused to stay put.  I adored the look.
      
      He dropped me back onto the bed and covered me with his weight.  
His lips crushed against mine.  Somehow I had overcome my shyness and 
pulled his head close to mine, eager for more of that strange feeling in my 
stomach.  How were his hands everywhere?  At my ears, in my hair, good 
Valar they were beneath my shirt.  He carefully maintained his distance 
from my scar, but all other areas of my skin were open to his inspection.  
He began to ease my leggings down over my hips – 
      
      There was a knock on the door.  I froze in fright.  His lips stilled 
where they were on my neck.
      
      “Prince Legolas, is Glorfindel in there with you?  Lord Elrond 
wishes to speak with him.”  I knew the voice; it was Erestor, another of 
Elrond's advisors.
      
      “Not now, please, Erestor, go away,” Glorfindel muttered as he 
kissed me again.
      
      “Prince Legolas?  Are you in there?”  I watched in horror as the 
doorknob began to turn.  I shoved Glorfindel off me, but he was already 
on his feet.
      
      “I’m coming, Erestor,” he called, willing me to stay still with his 
eyes.  “Prince Legolas and I were just having a discussion.
      
      “Legolas,” he said to me in an undertone, “meet me in the stables 
at midnight.  Can you make it?”
      
      “Yes,” I whispered back.  “Yes.”
      
      Glorfindel straightened his clothes, ran his hands through his hair, 
and looking as though nothing unusual had happened he stepped from my 
study door.
      
      I collapsed back to the bed.  What had just happened?  I felt as 
though I had been turned upside-down and inside out.  My jaw ached from 
the ravenous kisses, my shirt was falling off my shoulder, and I felt the 
worst dissatisfaction I had ever had.  My hand crept like a burglar down 
beneath my leggings.  How long until midnight?  How many more hours 
of torturous sunlight were left?  For all I knew, a year and a day had 
passed since that afternoon in the library.
      
      I brought myself to release as quickly as I was able.  I lay for some 
moments on my bed, just regaining my breathing and coherent thought.  
What would it be like?  What would he have me do?  I would meet him.  
That night, I would meet him in the stables.  I cleaned myself off and 
settled beneath the sheets for a nap.
      
      ~
      
      Midnight.  I was at the stables, carefully combing my horse’s 
mane.  She whinnied at me.  The owls hooted through the still night air.  I 
was alone.
      
      I sighed.  Perhaps he had been playing me for a fool.  The kisses 
had felt real, the touch had felt sincere . . . but maybe he had been just 
knocking around.  I was, after all, myself; the youngest Prince of 
Greenwood, a skinny little halfway-warrior who was too bold not to get 
himself into trouble.  I felt tears in my eyes and rubbed them away.  
Perhaps it would be better if I left now.  He would only disappoint me.
      
      A voice called out to me just before I left the stables.  I turned 
slowly to see Glorfindel looking intently at me.
      
      “Where are you going?” he asked.
      
      “I don’t want to be toyed with, Glorfindel,” I told him.  Don’t 
shake, hands, please don’t shake.
      
      “I’m not toying with you, Legolas.”  He came to me.  “Don’t cry.  
Why are you crying?”
      
      “Because it can’t be real!” I stammered, pushing away.  “It’s not . . 
. I am nothing compared to you!  I’m the Elfling you had to save, the 
pretty little thing that you will leave behind . . .”
      
      He held me close in an embrace.  “Legolas . . .”
      
      “You confuse me.  I don’t like it, Glorfindel.  Say what it is we’re 
doing.”
      
      “Well,” he whispered in my ear, “I’m going to kiss you quite 
thoroughly.  Then, if you let me, I’m going to carry you out of here and 
we’ll see if we can’t have some fun.  How does that sound?”
      
      Whatever I was going to say came out as a moan when his lips 
found my ear.  “Ah,” he sighed, “I’ve found the Wood Elf’s weakness.”
      
      “Stop, please,” I begged.  “Just – don’t tease.”
      
      He didn’t answer, just kissed me.  It was too deep, too endless.  I 
pulled him closer by his hair.  His tongue curled around mine, and his 
hands slid up beneath my shirt.  The touch on my back was careful, but 
still arousing and needy.  He pushed me against a pillar and delved even 
deeper into my mouth.
      
      My legs felt limp after the kiss.  The mare whickered at us.  “Be 
quiet,” I told her.
      
      “Think she’ll tell?” Glorfindel whispered in my ear.
      
      “No, she’s my friend, she won’t tell.  Come on, where are you 
taking me?  I’m curious.”
      
      “We can’t have that now, can we?”
      
      Just as he promised, he swept me into his arms, just as he had 
earlier in the bedroom.  While I disliked being treated so young, the touch 
was caring, and that I liked.  I settled my head on his shoulder.
      
      ~ Glorfindel’s POV
      
      The brush of his warm breath on my neck was nearly enough to 
undo me.  I swallowed and continued on, trying not to notice how 
willingly his slight weight accommodated in my arms.  He was soft and 
beautiful and I wanted him so badly it was painful.  I felt his long cool 
fingers lazily slide through my hair.
      
      I had prepared beforehand, for once.  There was a blanket awaiting 
us in a quiet glade, one I was fairly sure wasn’t watched.  I knew how 
important secrecy was in this relationship.  And I certainly didn’t want to 
scare him off.
      
      I gently set him down, making sure his legs would hold him before 
I let go.  He was still weak, I knew, from his long illness.  He looked 
around curiously.  “I’ve been here before,” he said.  “You can see the stars 
on a clear night.”
      
      “I know,” I answered.  He followed me to the blanket, but didn’t 
sit when I did.  The hesitation was visible on his face.  “We don’t have to 
if you don’t want to.”  It was difficult for me to say, but I had no desire for 
an unwilling partner.  Ai, Valar, did he have no idea how stunning he 
looked?  I was surprised and honored that I was the first.
      
      “I still don’t know,” he said softly.
      
      “Nobody knows their first time,” I replied.  It was taking all the 
willpower I had not to drag him to the ground and lay claim to his 
tempting mouth.  “If you don’t like it, tell me to stop.  But I think you’ll 
like it.”
      
      I saw the decision made on his face as he sat down next to me.  
Hesitantly he leaned his head on my shoulder.  I hardly dared breathe at 
the innocent touch.
      
      “How does it start?” he asked.
      
      I lifted his chin and indulged myself in his wide black eyes.  They 
were eyes to die again for, endless and accepting and completely sensual.  
He was studying me, just as I was studying him.  Though his eyes were 
the breathtaking features, the rest of him was also very beautiful.  His face 
was narrow, not gaunt but slender, and his chin came to a near point, 
almost like a cat’s.  The slant of his cheekbones tilted his eyes exotically.  
His dark brown hair, when pulled back into a single braid as it was, 
brought attention to his dramatically pointed ears and his long, pale neck.  
My gaze wandered lower.  He was naturally slenderer than most Elves his 
age, more the lithe archer than stout swordsman.  His battle with the 
spider’s poison had reduced him further.  His collarbone was clearly 
defined and his shoulders stuck out from beneath the shirt he wore.  He 
looked a great deal more fragile than Elladan and Elrohir.
      
      I met his gaze again; he was still examining me.  I wondered what 
he saw.  I know what I saw: beneath the soft moonlight drifting over the 
branches, Legolas looked unreal, a figment of the most beautiful fantasies 
ever created.  His pale skin glowed.  Desire smoldered within me.
      
      I had the advantage of experience over him, for I had had quite a 
few lovers over the years.  Seduction was a language I spoke fluently.  I 
kissed him lightly at first, savoring his scent.  His distinctly Wood-Elfish 
smell was that of fresh rain, shadowed birch and ash and oak, moonlight 
on roses, wild forest mint, fog in meadows.  His breathing quickened, I 
could hear it.  I kissed him a bit more thoroughly.  I could tell he was still 
shy about kissing anyone other that whatever yielding females he had 
kissed before.  Carefully my tongue requested entrance to his mouth, and 
slowly he obliged.  He tasted unlike anyone I had ever tasted before; there 
were woodland berries on his breath and hazelnut in the flavor of his 
tongue.  Shyly he began to respond, kissing me back with a sweet 
fervency and a slight dominance that was utterly enthralling.
      
      On a whim I loosed his hair from the braid and let the dark locks 
flow like a waterfall down his shoulders.  I purposefully let a hand brush 
his ear, and he moaned into the kiss.  I had found previously that his ears 
were very sensitive, even more so than most Elves’.  I smiled as I 
imagined that I could undo him just by playing with his ears.  But that, of 
course, would not be satisfactory.  I pulled the shirt over his head; he 
shivered as the night air, unseasonably warm though it was, touched at his 
skin.  What a slender little thing he truly was.
      
      He looked questioningly at me as I broke the kiss.  “Did I do 
something wrong?” he asked fearfully.  His wide eyes filled with worry.
      
      “Nay, never, little one.  I only have the desire to taste more of you 
than your mouth.”  I smiled reassuringly at him as I lowered my lips to his 
chest.  His breath hitched as my breath passed over his exposed nipple.  I 
heard him swallow above me.  Taking that as a sign of assent, I enveloped 
the bit of flesh in my mouth.
      
      His reaction was surprising.  He wasn’t very loud.  There was only 
a small gasp from above.  Yet his fingers clutched at my hair and his body 
arched against me like a tightly strung bow.  I felt a little flare of triumph 
within me.  Desire pooled low in my body as I continued my assault and 
he continued his precious little noises.
      
      When both nipples had been thoroughly bitten, sucked, licked, and 
otherwise tormented to a good extent, I lifted my head to watch him again.  
What a scene he made!  The dark strands of his hair stuck to the sides of 
his face where sweat had gathered.  His eyes were squeezed shut in an 
expression of bliss, and his lips were barely parted to accommodate his 
quick, erratic breathing.  He opened those dark eyes to glare at me 
fiercely.
      
      I was greatly surprised when he pounced – yes, pounced – on me, 
taking me to the ground in a powerful, soul-searching kiss.  Somewhere in 
my searching I had found a hidden fount of passion, and tapping into it 
had discovered a rather ardent young Elf.  Inexperienced as he was, he 
explored my body, testing what I liked.  He kissed at my ears with his 
warm lips, and I fancy I reacted as violently as he had.  He ran his long 
hands, such as he could, over my chest and poked curiously at me.
      
      Never the one to lay passive under a lover, I wrapped my arms 
around his waist, bringing our hips and stiff flesh into contact.  He froze; I 
felt his soft breathing rush past my ear.  He lifted his head to look at me 
again.  There was a question in his inky, unreadable black eyes.  In 
response I kissed him, regaining my dominance.  His hair brushed my 
cheek in a tender, intimate touch.
      
      Carefully, still in mind of his recent stressed state, I turned us over 
so I was on top.  I grinned down at him, and he half-smiled shyly back, 
and I kissed him hard.  Gently demanding, I pressed our hips together 
again, and was rewarded with a strained gasp.  Judging my time right, I 
reached down to his leggings.  Glancing at his eyes to make sure I had 
permission, I eased the fabric off his narrow hips.  I was gifted with a dark 
blush across his cheeks as he was revealed to me, though his stiff flesh 
rose unashamedly.
      
      “I don’t know why you wear clothing,” I murmured in his ear, 
“when you are so much more beautiful without it.”
      
      He muttered back something unintelligible, though to wager a 
guess it was about me still wearing all my clothing.  His hands left my 
shoulders and made to remove my shirt, but I stopped them.  He threw me 
another heated, questioning glance, but I remained silent.  Instead, I 
reached down and took hold of him and began to stroke him firmly.
      
      He made another beautiful picture, and I wondered again how I 
was the first.  He threw his head back and moaned quietly, clutching at the 
blanket beneath him with both hands.
      
      “Ai, Glorfindel, it – ai, please don’t stop,” he mumbled between 
his delicious gasps and moans.
      
      “But I must stop, Calwaquén,” I replied.  It was very difficult to 
keep my voice level.  “I wouldn’t want you to spend yourself too quickly 
tonight.”
      
      He frowned in displeasure as I pulled away, then watched me 
apprehensively as I stripped myself of my clothing.  I sighed with relief, as 
at last my desire was freed to the air.  I reached over to a corner of the 
blanket where I had hidden a bottle of oil to ease our way.
      
      “What’s that?” he asked as I poured some on my fingers.
      
      “This,” I said as I reached beneath him, “is for that.”  I prodded 
gently at the opening to his body.  He suddenly looked very worried, and I 
felt his body tense.  “I promise I will try my utmost not to hurt you, 
Legolas.”
      
      He calmed a bit at that, and nodded for me to continue.  He bit his 
lip and frowned when a finger entered him.  “That feels strange.”
      
      “I know.  It will feel better, you have my word.”  I hoped with all 
my might that I spoke truth.  Legolas, untried as he was, was agonizingly 
tight.  He would not get through this without some pain.  However, I had 
no wish to hurt him beyond what he could take, and I wanted to give him 
pleasure as well.
      
      I carefully extended a second finger.  He made a small painful 
sound, but he hadn’t reached his limits yet.  And I hadn’t properly 
stimulated him.  It was a practiced move to twist my fingers within him.
      
      He arched off the ground, taking my arms tightly in his hands.  His 
black eyes were wide as saucers, glazed over with pleasure.  His breathing 
was heavy and uneven.  “What in the blessed name of Elbereth was 
/that/?” he asked, startled.
      
      I touched it again; he threw his head back, kindly exposing his 
throat to my lips.  “That is what makes it all worthwhile,” I answered, 
grinning that I could give him such pleasure.
      
      “That I truly believe!  Ai, Glorfindel, I never – Ai!”
      
      He writhed beautifully on the ground, clutching alternately at me 
and at the blanket.  He willingly accepted the third finger.  The kiss we 
shared was electric, sparking, and I felt that, while he was still 
uncomfortably tight, I could wait no longer.  He moaned at the loss of the 
fingers, and the sound was still on his lips when I began to enter him.  
Immediately he became silent, and I could tell his attention was focused 
inward on what was happening.
      
      Me, I was floating on a wave of desire.  While I was hardly within 
his threshold, he clutched me tightly like hot velvet.  I inched in as 
carefully as possible, mindful both of his discomfort and my own lusts.
      
      “It hurts,” he said quietly, painfully.
      
      “I know, I know.  I promised, Legolas, I promised I would make 
this good.”  I kissed him, trying to take away his pain.
      
      He responded halfheartedly, but suddenly cried out.  “Ai, 
Glorfindel, stop!  It hurts!”
      
      “Shh, you must relax, Legolas.  Please, there is no backing out 
now.”  His eyes searched wildly like a spooked horse.  I stroked him 
across the bridge of his nose, and at last the rolling eyes settled on me.  
“Trust me.”
      
      Slowly, so as not to frighten him further, I reached down to caress 
his dying erection.  He murmured softly and warmed again, finally 
nodding at me to continue.  It was with pleasure that I did.  Ai, he was 
tormenting!
      
      At last I slid completely in.  The only sound in the night was the 
singing of the stars, the nearly inaudible whispering of the trees, and the 
harsh breath that drifted past my ear from his mouth.  I buried my face in 
his hair as I painstakingly awaited his adjustment.  His silent signal was to 
turn his head and kiss my ear, sending a shudder through my body.
      
      I proceeded at a gentle and cautious pace, keeping my promise to 
save him unnecessary hurt.  At first he had his eyes closed in pain, but 
them I hit that spot that made stars bright even behind locked eyes.  He 
cried out again, though for an entirely different purpose, and bestowed the 
most passionate kiss upon me that I had ever received.  The look in his 
eyes encouraged me to pick up the pace a bit, and he met my thrusts 
accordingly.  I couldn’t understand much of what he murmured in my ear, 
though I caught the word “Elbereth!” numerous times.  I smiled at the 
thought of all the business that particular Vala would have to put up with 
that night.  Then I was caught again in the entrapping whirlpool that was 
pleasure in Legolas’s body.
      
      My hand had never stopped its movement upon him, and it wasn’t 
long until he spilled across my hand, eyes shut as he moaned his pleasure.  
A few quick thrusts later I came as well, and satiated lay across him, 
attempting to regain my breathing.  He had been ravishment to my senses 
and the cause of such intense pleasure that I was left shaking.
      
      After a moment I came to, and rolled off him, pulling him with me 
so he lay lightly on top of me.  I studied his face, wondering what I would 
see after what we had done.  He rested his chin on my chest, eyes half-
mast with fatigue and satisfaction.
      
      “I’m all sticky,” he said lazily.
      
      I laughed, and his head bounced with my laughter.  “That’s what 
happens,” I said as I tucked some errant hair behind his ears.
      
      He smiled and looked at the sky.  “It’s going to rain.”
      
      I glanced up.  The stars winked brightly above us and the moon 
shone like polished mithril.  Rain looked impossible.
      
      “It will rain,” he said again.  “I have a knack for these things.”
      
      I sighed.  “If you say so, Calwaquén.”  I twisted a lock of his hair 
around my fingers.  “I don’t want to get up.  I can hardly move.”
      
      “You can hardly move?” he asked incredulously.  “I should be the 
one saying that, after all you put me through.  I won’t be sitting down for 
months.”
      
      I laughed again, and he beamed and stretched.  “But we should 
go,” he continued.  “They’ll want to find me in my bed tomorrow.  And 
you in yours.”
      
      “I don’t have a bed.”  He raised his head, eyeing me curiously.  “I 
was never given one.  The first night I was here I borrowed someone 
else’s . . .” I smiled at the memory of Lossuriel.
      
      “Was it Lossu?”
      
      He had read my thoughts, it seemed.  He was grinning unceasingly 
at me, all shining dark eyes.  “Yes,” I answered.  “After that, you were 
injured, and I spent the nights watching over you.”
      
      He melodramatically raised a hand to his heart.  “I’m touched.  But 
thank you.”  The last words were more sincere, and he kissed me 
thoroughly.
      
      Reluctantly I pulled away.  “Stop that now, or we’ll never get 
back.  Come on, up you get.”  I lifted him up, for despite his manner he 
was exhausted.  Gently I wiped up the stickiness on his belly and pulled 
his shirt over his head, leaving him to his own leggings while I dressed 
myself.  Covered again, I folded the blanket and walked away from the 
glade with Legolas.
      
      “I was thinking,” he said as we made our way back, “it wouldn’t 
be that unusual for you to spend the nights in my rooms.  I mean, after all, 
you said you spent all that time with me while I was sick.  What if I was 
still a bit sick?  What if I needed your assistance?”
      
      I smiled.  “I will stay with you, Legolas.  I wouldn’t desert you.”
      
      He clasped my hand in his.  “Good.”
      
      Hardly had we left the clearing when thunder boomed over our 
head and the sky poured down buckets of rain.  He laughed happily.  “I 
told you so!” he said as he tilted his head back to catch the droplets.  “I 
told you, Glorfindel!”
      
      “Yes, you did,” I admitted.  I especially liked the way that his 
quickly soaked shirt soon defined all the planes of his chest.
      
      He shook his head, sending the water flying from his drenched 
dark hair.  “We should go before we drown.”
      
      So we ran our way back to the City, avoiding most of the puddles 
and tree roots.  How the densely grown branches allowed so much water 
to pass through was a mystery.  At last we returned to civilization, and I 
realized a hitch in our plan.
      
      “Legolas,” I asked, “how are we supposed to return to the cavern?  
Surely the entrance will by guarded . . .”
      
      He grinned wickedly at me.  “There’s a way in through the 
kitchens.  I discovered it a few hundred years ago, and have used it often 
sense.  There’s no one near there, especially at this time of the night.  
Come on, we can sneak in through there.”
      
      Our proposed entrance was a small window, no weak point for 
attack yet large enough to fit an Elf.  We removed our boots so we didn’t 
leave footprints and squeezed through the window.  Once back inside the 
warm and dry, we carefully crept to his rooms.  Legolas must have called 
on Elbereth so much that she watched our steps, for we met only a 
deserted hallway.
      
      Once back in Legolas’s rooms we were able to breathe freely.  He 
tossed me a towel and began to dry his own hair.  I followed suit, and 
accepted the dry shirt he offered me.  Warm, dry, and perhaps cleaner than 
we had been, I followed him into his bed.  He lay warmly against me, his 
back to my front, and yawned loudly.
      
      “You’re tired, you should sleep,” I said, kissing his neck.
      
      “I had no intention of doing otherwise, Glorfindel,” he mumbled in 
reply.
      
      I hesitated, then asked, “You’re all right?  You’re not hurting?”
      
      “I’m fine.”
      
      “You’re sure?”
      
      “Glorfindel, don’t worry about me.  If I can handle a spider, I can 
certainly handle you.  Go to sleep.”
      
      I sighed and pulled his warm slender body closer to me, at last 
surrendering to oblivion.
      
      ~
      
      The next few days passed merrily.  As one of Elrond’s foremost 
advisors I was expected to be present at the negotiations between Imladris 
and the Greenwood.  The most important development of late was the 
spiders.  Thranduil reported that there had been rumors of them farther 
south, but nothing so shocking or so real as an attack so close to the City, 
let alone on one of the Royal family.  Darkness gathered beyond the 
carefully kept borders, and daily it encroached upon these Elves.
      
      Imladris, such as it was, could not offer much aid.  While we had a 
goodly number of warriors, we could spare none of them.  Thranduil was 
confident that his own people could defend the City, and I was inclined to 
agree with him.  The Elves of Greenwood had become wise in the ways of 
the forest and quite fey and dangerous, as I had described them to Erestor.  
Indeed, they had succeeded in sneaking up on our party as we made our 
way through the darksome trees.  We could rely on them to keep 
themselves safe, of that I had little doubt.  The darkness itself, though, was 
our main concern.  Why this sudden surge of dark creatures?  There hadn’t 
yet been any reports of Orcs in the area, but all present knew that with the 
One Ring still out there somewhere, Sauron would waste as little time as 
possible re-gathering his forces.  It was only a matter of time before he 
would strike again.  This, above all things, struck our hearts with fear.
      
      It was with these worrisome thoughts on my mind that I later met 
Legolas.  His lighthearted antics and willful participation in our loving 
made me forget all else, at least for a time.  He showed me his collection 
of novels, some of which even I hadn’t read.  Despite his refusal of credit 
he was quite a good artist, and one of my favorite pastimes was to sit close 
while he sketched a bird or a flower.  Sometimes he even took me for his 
model.  Nature loved Legolas, and Legolas loved nature.  A butterfly, if 
perched in his hair, would rest there for hours on end, until it pleaded that 
it had other business to do.  It was, however, with trees that Legolas had 
the greatest affinity.  The most amusing thing was to watch him walk up to 
a lonely willow or a stubborn oak and engage it in conversation.  I asked 
him about it once.
      
      “It is their souls, I think,” he had answered softly, picking some 
dry leaves off an ash tree.  “Their souls speak to me.”  He laughed 
joyfully.  “Perhaps I have the soul of a tree!”
      
      At that point I had taken him in my arms and tickled him until he 
pushed me away and ran laughing into the trees.  Knowing better than to 
chase after him in a useless hunt, I waited for him to return.  Return he 
had, tackling me from behind and taking me in a fierce kiss.  He was so 
loving, so passionate, that my heart went out to him.  I knew without a 
doubt that whatever would happen to this beautiful young creature, I 
would always look after him.
      
      It had only been a few days since our first experience of loving.  
We awoke to a pounding on the door, and not wishing a repeat of the 
afternoon that Erestor had disturbed us, Legolas jumped groggily out of 
bed.
      
      “I’m coming!” he called to whoever was behind the door.  It 
opened to reveal a very flustered looking Harmae.
      
      “Legolas,” she said desperately, “would you take Istion for a few 
hours?  Father needs my help, and there’s nobody left . . .”
      
      “Sure, Harmae,” Legolas answered sleepily, though he had the 
sense to keep the door mostly shut to hide me from view.  “I’ll take him.”
      
      “Oh, thank you, Legolas!  I owe you something, little brother.”  
After a kiss on his cheek and a kiss for the babe in his arms, she dashed off 
down the halls.  Legolas yawned as he wandered back towards the bed.
      
      “Behold, my little nephew,” he announced, revealing a little red 
face beneath the swaddlings.
      
      “Do you think he’ll tell on us?” I asked playfully, offering a finger 
to the Elfling.
      
      “Nay, he won’t.”  Legolas brought him a bit closer.  “You won’t 
tell on us, will you, Istion?  Not if you want me to show you how to use a 
bow someday.”  Istion grabbed at Legolas’s finger, making a sound of joy 
at his capture.
      
      “He likes you, I think,” I commented.
      
      “He had better.  Tell us who your favorite uncle is, can you, 
Istion?”  The child cried out again and reached for the dark strands of hair 
dangling near his face.  “See?  He loves me,” Legolas said as his nephew 
tugged at his hair.
      
      I smiled.  One of the most loveable things about Legolas was the 
care he felt for his family.  He grinned indulgently at the babe in his arms, 
bouncing him and playing with him, and Istion clearly loved his youngest 
uncle.  It was quite the idyllic scene.
      
      “Legolas,” I asked, putting an arm around him, “do you think 
you’ll ever have children?”
      
      He turned his bright smile on me.  “Perhaps,” he replied 
thoughtfully.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t thought about it much.  I’m still 
young, you know.  Maybe.  If I meet the right she-Elf, that is.  I like Istion 
well enough, but my own child would be a bit more of a responsibility.  
I’m quite enjoying my free life now.”
      
      “That is more than enough of an answer,” I said with a laugh.
      
      “Why?”
      
      “What?”
      
      “Why did you ask me if I wanted children?”  He stared at me with 
his big black eyes.
      
      “Curious, I suppose.”  I lay back in his bed.  “You looked so happy 
there with your sister’s child in your arms that I wondered if you had ever 
considered having your own.”
      
      He smiled again and turned back to Istion.  “Someday, maybe, 
Glorfindel.  We’ll see.”
      
      ~
      
      I awoke as Legolas’s weight left the bed.  I sighed as I heard the 
feared-for sounds of retching.  For the past week Legolas had been 
awakening to a terrible sickness of the stomach.  It didn’t last long; after 
the first bouts of heaving everything in his stomach, the sickness abided 
for the rest of the day.  He would smile and look tearfully at me, 
suggesting that it was perhaps the remnants of the spider’s venom leaving 
his system.  I, however, was growing worried at the continuance of his 
illness.
      
      I pulled back his hair from his shaking shoulders as he retched into 
the chamber pot.  “What is this, Legolas?” I asked, half to myself.  “I 
thought you were completely recovered from the spider.”
      
      With the heaving past for the moment, Legolas sat back.  He 
gratefully accepted a cup of water.  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his 
head.  A tight look had come back to his features.  Perhaps he was 
suffering a relapse?  “I don’t know what it is.  I thought it was the spider, 
but now I’m not so certain.”
      
      “Is it over for today?”
      
      He was silent for a moment, testing his senses.  “Yes, I think so.”  
He groaned as he got to his feet.  “Ai, when will it end?  Let me assure 
you, Glorfindel, this is quite an unpleasant way to start every morning.”
      
      I fear the smile I wore did not reach my eyes.  “You should see a 
healer.  Just to make sure you’re all right.”
      
      He rubbed his temples.  “I think you’re right.  Whatever this 
sickness is, it’s taking its toll on me.  Let’s go back to sleep.”
      
      “You can sleep, Calwaquén,” I said, kissing his forehead.  “I must 
go to the negotiations.  Can I see you later today, perhaps in the archery 
field?”
      
      He nodded and yawned.  His eyes clouded over as he was lost to 
sleep.  “Good night, Glorfindel.”
      
      I smiled over my shoulder at him.  “Good night, Legolas.”
      
      ~
      
      Negotiations that day had been particularly tedious.  Erestor had 
poked at me to keep me awake, though afterwards even he had admitted 
difficulty keeping focused on the trade routes between Dale and the City.  
I was particularly looking forward to seeing my lighthearted Legolas that 
afternoon, and eagerly made my way towards the archery fields.  I 
remembered what had passed that morning, and wondered what the 
healers had had to say.
      
      Legolas stood, as usual, far from the targets.  His exceptional skill 
with the bow enabled him to hit the targets even from his great distance.  
As soon as I got closer, I noticed something was amiss.  An unreadable 
expression was on his face, and his body was very tense.  He fired his 
arrows in rapid succession, but not all of them hit the target, and very few 
hit the center.  I frowned, wondering what was wrong.
      
      He started as I entered the glade, casting an almost fearful glance 
in my direction.  I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say a 
word he threw down his bow and quiver and, after wandering restlessly 
for a moment, collapsed against a tree.  I could hear his quiet sobs.  I ran 
to his side, intensely worried now.  Legolas was not the sort to break down 
like that.
      
      “Legolas,” I said softly as I approached him.  “Legolas, will you 
tell me what is wrong?”
      
      He just buried his head in his arms, weeping uncontrollably.  I 
looked around, wondering what to do.  At last, I put my arm around his 
shoulders, but he flinched away from the contact.  I sighed and leaned 
back against the tree.
      
      “What is it, Calwaquén?  I can’t stand to see you like this.  You 
know you can tell me any thing.  Just please, Legolas, tell me what 
troubles you so.”
      
      To my great relief, he raised his head, looking at me with sad, 
tearstained eyes.  “You will be angry,” he said.  His voice was hoarse.
      
      “No I won’t, I promise.  Have I ever broken a promise?”
      
      He gave a watery smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “Do you 
remember about two weeks ago,” he began shakily, “when you asked me 
if I wanted children?”
      
      “What does that have to do with it?”  My mind leapt to the first 
conclusion.  “You haven’t gotten a she-Elf with child?”
      
      He glared angrily at me.  “Let me tell!  No, I haven’t gotten anyone 
with child.”
      
      He paused for so long I nearly thought he had forgotten me.  
“Legolas?”
      
      “I went to the healer today,” he began softly, “just to make sure I 
was all right.  I kept telling myself it was the leftovers of the spider’s 
venom . . . but the healer tested me.”  He sighed, and there was such utter 
despair in the sound that I moved closer, but he only scooted farther away.  
“Glorfindel, I carry our child within me.”
      
      I looked at him confusedly.  “Excuse me, Legolas, I must have 
heard you wrong.  I thought you said that you –“
      
      “It’s true, Glorfindel.”  He didn’t look at me; his gaze rested 
somewhere up in the trees.  “There is a child within me.”
      
      I was still in shock and disbelief.  “Is that even possible?”
      
      “That’s what I asked her.  She told me that it was very rare, but it 
can happen.  I’m showing all the symptoms, and she’s fairly sure that it is 
true.”
      
      “Ai, Legolas!” I cried, and put my arms around him, whether he 
would have it or no.  He remained stiff, looking only forward, but tears 
made their shining trails down his face.  I saw that a hand had somehow 
strayed to his belly.  “So it is true!”
      
      “Glorfindel, I’m so scared!” he said softly, fearfully.  His eyes 
moved wildly, searching for an answer in the leaves.  “What will I do?  
What can I do?  Where can I go?  I cannot stay here!”  He attempted to 
contain a sob.  “What will my parents say?  Ai, Glorfindel, they will be 
angry with me!  What will Brethildur and Tathernil and Harmae say?  
Oh!”  He buried his face in his arms again, succumbing at last to his sobs.
      
      “Shh,” I said, in attempt to soothe.  “It will be all right, don’t cry, 
Legolas.”
      
      But in my mind I wondered.  How could it be all right?  I had 
never before heard of a male getting with child, and the thought had not 
even been on my mind when I made love to Legolas.  Yet there we were, 
and I was faced with a responsibility unlike any other.  What would we 
do?  I agreed with Legolas; he could not remain in Greenwood.
      
      “Don’t worry,” I murmured, “we’ll think of something, wait and 
see.”
      
      “We?” he asked, looking up and wiping childishly at his eyes.  Ai, 
he was far too young to be faced with something like this!  He was hardly 
more than an Elfling!  “We, Glorfindel?”
      
      “I won’t desert you, Legolas,” I said reassuringly.  That much I 
knew was true.  “I don’t run from the consequences of my actions.  We’ll 
think of something.”
      
      “I hope so,” he said, leaning his head on my shoulder.  I smoothed 
his hair.
      
      “We should tell your parents, first of all.”
      
      “What?” he exclaimed incredulously.  There was fear in his eyes.  
“No, Glorfindel, we can’t!  Glorfindel, they would be so ashamed, I could 
never . . .”
      
      “Legolas, we must.  They are your parents!”
      
      “I suppose you mean that I should tell them,” he said reluctantly.  
“I don’t want to.  I don’t want to face them knowing what I have done.”
      
      “They can hardly blame you, Legolas.  Neither of us knew . . .” 
The words were meant to comfort, though I fear they fell short of the 
mark.  “We should tell them as soon as possible.  And Elrond as well.  
They should know, Legolas.”
      
      “Ai, you are right.  What will I say?”  There was that terrible 
despair in his voice again; the despair that sucked any cheerfulness right 
out, the sort that left me with a cold feeling in my stomach.  What now to 
do?
      
      “Just the truth, Legolas.  That always works best.”
      
      ~ Legolas’s POV
      
      I couldn’t keep myself from fidgeting.  There were four pairs of 
eyes on me; two belonged to my parents, one belonged to lord Elrond, and 
the last to Glorfindel.  The first three had grown steadily more 
disappointed and discouraging, though I could tell Glorfindel was trying to 
lend me strength.  I stood before them, telling my short tale; how I had 
taken Glorfindel as a lover, how I had been feeling sick to the stomach, of 
the healer’s conclusions.  Though it was only just afternoon, I wanted 
nothing more than to go to sleep, if only to escape the disappointed eyes.
      
      I finished the story, and hesitantly looked up at my parents.  Father 
was frowning, but I could not read his expression.
      
      “Is that even possible?” he asked.  Had I been in the laughing 
mood, I might have laughed at my father’s use of the question that both 
Glorfindel and I had also asked.
      
      The healer, Lómiel, had stood silently in the back of the room 
through my entire speech.  She seemed embarrassed to be present at such a 
personal hearing.  “Yes, my lord,” she said.  She shifted nervously.  She 
wasn’t that much older than I was.  “It is very rare, but sometimes, under 
the right conditions . . .”
      
      Father’s frown deepened.  Mother had a stricken look on her face.  
“Ai, Legolas, what have you done?” she cried.  I flinched at the tone of her 
voice.
      
      “He is not to blame, my lady,” Glorfindel defended me.  He 
stepped close and took my shoulders under an arm.  “Neither of us knew 
that this could happen.  Perhaps, had I known, I might not have pursued 
Legolas, but now that he is in this condition, I have pledged myself to his 
aid, no matter what that might mean.”
      
      “Can we get rid of it?” Father asked.  I still couldn’t read his tone, 
but the words brought an arrow of fear to my heart.  Get rid of it?  I felt 
myself begin to shake.
      
      “No,” Elrond said, speaking for the first time.  I had forgotten he 
was present.  “No, we cannot get rid of it.  It is a dangerous procedure, 
even for a female, but especially so for the male.  A very high risk of 
death.  No, majesties, I would not recommend that route.”
      
      “Then what do you suggest, my lord?” Father asked.  His words 
had a clipped quality.  I could tell he was attempting to hold back anger.  
Anger directed at me, most probably.  “You seem to have some 
knowledge of this . . .” he waved his hand at me.  “This abomination.”
      
      At the words, I wanted to curl into a ball on the floor.  
Abomination?  I had known my parents would not take kindly to my news, 
but to hear the actual horrible words from my father’s mouth was 
shattering.
      
      “First, I would recommend you stop scaring your son,” Elrond 
said.  There was a piece of kindness in his eyes.  “For all this is worrying 
to you, I am sure it is immeasurably so to him.  His health will not be 
improved without some support.  And while I am not particularly in favor 
of his choices, they are his, and he must deal with them accordingly.
      
      “I propose,” he continued, “taking Legolas back with me to 
Imladris.  I do have a small bit of experience in this matter, and it would 
be easier, not to mention less scandalous, for me to look after him at my 
home.  I am afraid, Legolas,” he said, looking at me, “that you will need to 
carry the child to term.  What you do afterwards is your decision, but your 
only choice now is to remain healthy so that birth is as easy as possible.”
      
      Birth?  At the word, breathing suddenly became very difficult.  I 
looked despairingly at my parents, hoping that somehow they could 
magically take away whatever grew within me.  I couldn’t leave 
Greenwood, I couldn’t leave my trees and my friends and my flowers . . . 
tears began to prick at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
      
      “Your advice is sound, my lord Elrond,” I heard Father say, as if 
from a great distance.  “Legolas will return with your household to 
Imladris, and he will remain under your supervision and care until such a 
time as he is able to return.”
      
      “Of course, he is welcome for as long as he likes,” Elrond said, 
giving me a small smile.  “I take this to mean that you will not be 
marrying my daughter?”
      
      “No, my lord,” I said softly.
      
      “In a way, I am glad.  What ever possessed me to make me think 
that the girl needed a husband?  Legolas, we should leave as soon as you 
are able.  Are you well enough to travel?”
      
      “Yes, my lord,” I answered.  Much as I did not want to leave my 
home, I knew that this was the only option to me.  As Elrond said, scandal 
would ensue if the people knew that the King’s son was with child.  Better 
to leave and come back when all was resolved.
      
      “At risk of sounding as though we do not appreciate your 
hospitality, my lord, we should leave within the week,” Elrond said.
      
      “Of course,” Father answered.  “Whatever you need to prepare to 
leave will be provided, lord Elrond.”
      
      He nodded and went to leave the room.
      
      “My lord,” I called to him, “I have no say over what you tell your 
own household about this, but . . .”
      
      “It will be a secret, Legolas.  Never fear.  Only those who must 
know will know.”
      
      “Thank you.”  He left.  “Mother?  Father?”  They looked at me.  
Mother, I could tell, was just barely containing her tears.  Father looked 
stern.  “If you need to tell Harmae and Brethildur and Tathernil, could you 
please do it after I’m gone?  I don’t want them to say goodbye knowing 
about this.”
      
      Mother hiccuped and nodded.  “Oh, Legolas!” she cried, rushing to 
my arms.  “How can you leave?  Don’t be gone long, will you?  And take 
good care of yourself.  And stay out in the sunshine as much as possible.  
And for the Valar’s sakes, don’t practice your bow or knives.  Take care of 
yourself.  Though I’m sure Elrond knows what he’s doing, but still, I don’t 
want you to injure yourself or . . .”
      
      “Mother, I’ll be fine,” I said, as reassuringly as I could.  In truth, I 
was as worried as she was.  My heart pounded in my ribs like a wild caged 
animal.
      
      Father just looked at me solemnly.  “Tarasule, Lómiel, my lord 
Glorfindel, if I could have a moment alone with my son,” he said evenly.  
Obligingly, they left the room.  Glorfindel gave me a comforting pat on 
the shoulder before closing the door behind him.  I was left alone with my 
father and whatever temper he was working up.
      
      “Legolas,” he began softly, “it matters little to me the lovers you 
take.  I might even encourage it, for you should not be lonely.  But of all 
Elves, a warrior of your future wife’s household . . .”
      
      The beginnings of anger coiled within me.  “I was never going to 
marry Arwen, Father,” I said.
      
      “Is she not pretty enough for you?  Or perhaps you just prefer 
males!”
      
      “No!” I protested.  I felt a need to defend what Glorfindel and I 
had done.  “No, Father, it’s not like that!  There were no males before 
Glorfindel.  And Arwen . . . Arwen is pretty enough, but Father, she is so 
young . . .”
      
      “Not that much younger than you, and yet here you are, heavy with 
this Elf Lord’s child!”  His eyes sparked with anger.  “I ought to kill him 
for even considering seducing one of my family.”
      
      “Father, you are being unreasonable!” I defended furiously.
      
      “Unreasonable!” he bellowed.  “And where was your reason when 
he got you with child!  Why, if my father were here and were he King 
under the hill, you would be expelled from the City immediately!”
      
      “But he is not, Father!” I cried.  “Grandfather is not here!  You 
need not be so hard-handed as he was!  Times have changed since the age 
of Oropher, and if you cannot see that–“
      
      “Get out,” he said softly, though his voice shook with wrath.  “Get 
out, Legolas.  You will go to Imladris, this . . . thing will be removed from 
you as promptly as possible, and you will return here.  Bring it with you, 
Legolas, and I will expel you from my rule.  I hope you appreciate how 
lenient I am being with you.”
      
      I didn’t say anything.  Anger boiled within me as I turned on my 
heel and left the room.  I wasn’t expecting to run into Glorfindel right 
outside the door.  He put his arms around me, rubbing my back 
comfortingly.  There was a small, still-enraged area of my thoughts that 
wanted to push him away, but I allowed him close.
      
      “Don’t worry, Legolas, we’ll figure it out, don’t worry . . .” he 
whispered softly in my ear.  His words were such a comfort to my 
tormented heart that I felt tears threatening to fall again.  I lay my head on 
his chest, just soaking up his warmth and scent.
      
      “I won’t leave you, Legolas,” he said.  Those were the best words 
of all.
      
      ~
      
      Elvish translations (in case you’re interested):
      
      Legolas: Greenleaf
      Tathernil: Friend of Willows
      Brethildur: Friend of Beeches
      Harmae: Spirit
      Thranduil: Halls of Star Shadow
      Tarasule: Lofty Spirit (or Lofty Wind)
      Glorfindel: Golden Haired
      Lómiel: Daughter of Dusk
      Lossuriel: Maiden Garlanded with Snow
      Calwaquén: Beautiful One
      
      Remember to email me (neldluva@hotmail.com) and tell me how 
you liked it!




Title: Undone part 2 

Author: Neldluva 

Author's Email: neldluva@hotmail.com 

Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel 

Rating: NC17 

Warnings: angst (major), MPREG, slash

Summary: Legolas experiences some hesitancy in regards to his “delicate 
condition.”

Feedback: keeps the muses working.

A/N: Nothing new.  Look out for some intense birth scenes.  I’ve never 
been pregnant myself, so if you guys wanna give me any advice on the 
subject . . . remember, Legolas has dark hair.  Don’t let that freak you out.  
And I own all the people you don’t recognize.  So keep yer grubby fingers 
off ’em!

Thanks to Ginny Reilly for the song!

On with the story!  And remember to tell me how you like it! 

      ~
      
      I hugged my cloak closer to my body.  Not that it was really very 
cold.  I had been struck by a recent desire to cover myself as much as 
possible, as though people could see the child within me just by looking at 
my face.
      
      The household of Imladris, me included, had been three days gone 
from the City in Greenwood.  I had never before been far from my home, 
and I knew not what to think about all of the new things that I saw.  The 
trees far from our realm were beginning to sound mutinous and violent; I 
resolved to come back later and attempt to restore peace.  ‘If there is a 
later,’ I reminded myself morbidly.  Child.  This was no child within me.  
As my father had aptly described it, it was an abomination.
      
      Our route took the Old Forest Road through Greenwood and over 
the Misty Mountains.  I felt my eyes grow wide as the cliffs of granite and 
snow loomed before us, daily growing larger.  Fresh, cold, mountain air 
swept our faces, and it was welcomed, for the spring weather was 
unusually warm.
      
      My thoughts wandered, as they had begun to with the changes 
happening to me.  Mostly I tried to wonder what Imladris would be like.  
Those I had asked told me that it was a great house built over a waterfall 
out of living trees.  It was in the middle of a protective but beautiful 
valley, they said, sheltered from unfriendly eyes.  I wondered what it 
would be like to live there, for many months, away from all that I knew.  
The Elves would be kind enough, for I had seen nothing evidencing that 
they would be anything but hospitable, but it was not Greenwood.
      
      Elladan’s voice interrupted me from my musings.  “Legolas has his 
head in the clouds again!” he cried joyfully, bringing his mount up close to 
mine.
      
      I smiled wryly.  “Can I not simply enjoy a beautiful day without 
shouting about it?” I asked.
      
      Elrohir grinned from my other side.  “No, cousin.  Why, you 
should be shouting your happiness to be leaving that darksome forest from 
the tops of the trees!”  He startled a few birds from the branches above us 
with his vehement speech.
      
      “Legolas,” Elladan continued, “you have not yet told us how long 
you will stay in Imladris with us.”
      
      “So eager for me to leave your company already, Elladan?”  I 
smiled to negate the ungrateful quality of my words.
      
      “Nay, just curious.  We’ll plan something special for your going-
away party, though.  Something fun.”
      
      I turned my gaze forwards into the distance.  The way out of 
Greenwood was a small bright spot ahead of us.  “I don’t know how long 
I’ll stay,” I answered.  “As long as I need to, I suppose.”
      
      The twins didn’t yet know of my condition, and I was in no mind 
to tell them.  They looked between each other quizzically, but dismissed 
my words.  I was glad to have their friendship in these difficult times.
      
      I wondered to myself when we would stop for the day.  On my 
patrols I had been able to go an entire three days without rest, but I found 
myself becoming tired by a long day’s journey, even on horseback.  As an 
added nuisance, my sickness had progressed such that I was left with a 
constant nausea in the pit of my stomach.  I asked myself when this 
miserable trial would be over.  Imladris, just make it to Imladris, and we’ll 
take it from there.
      
      ~ Glorfindel’s POV
      
      At last we were in sight of the Last Homely House, which would 
be the First Homely House from this side of the Mountains.  I sighed, 
relieved upon returning to my home.  We were greeted appropriately by 
the guards hidden in the trees, who silently kept watch over Imladris.  I 
was usually one of their number, and I looked forward to returning to my 
duties.
      
      I glanced back at Legolas.  The journey had been hard on him, I 
saw that clearly.  He was unused to feeling the exhaustion that plagued 
him, and he toiled on when perhaps the wiser choice would have been to 
rest.  And while he had tried to hide it, I knew he felt sick constantly.  My 
heart ached, and I wished I could do something to ease the burden placed 
unwillingly upon him.
      
      Still, his eyes were wide and bright, and I could tell he was excited 
about the new land we had come to.  Spring had come to the valley, and 
the trees and flowers were blooming in sprays of color.  The fresh breeze 
brought the scent of the waterfall over the air and made the horses dance, 
for all of us were eager to get home.
      
      Legolas caught my eye again.  Having discarded his cloak in the 
warm weather, he leapt up onto his horse’s back and balanced there.  I was 
nearly about to go over and drag him down, but before I could move, he 
reached up and lifted himself into the trees overhead.
      
      “I’ll follow you to the House!” he called down.  I shook my head.  
He was responsible enough not to injure himself, but I could not help the 
pang of worry that entered my heart.
      
      I felt eyes on me.  Elrond knew, as he always did, of my care for 
Legolas.  Erestor’s eyes, though, were unexpected.  Even though Elrond 
hadn’t informed the Chief Counsellor about our delicate situation, I 
suspected that he had already guessed, shrewd as he was.  He nodded 
solemnly at me, signaling that he understood.  I nodded back, feeling more 
relief.  Erestor was a good friend, and to make him an enemy would hurt 
me.
      
      As he had proposed, Legolas followed us the short distance to the 
House.  According with his Wood-Elfish agility and poise he flipped down 
from the branches.  I was pleased to see a sparkle returned to his eyes and 
some color in his cheeks.  I began to think that perhaps, with some luck 
and a blessing from Elbereth, Legolas might get through this.  I had been 
worried after he fought with his father.  Thranduil didn’t seem the 
forgiving sort.  Still, he had agreed to let Legolas back into his kingdom.  
The Forest was the most important thing in Legolas’s life, and I thought 
that, if he would be happy at all, it would be in his forest.  However it 
turned out.
      
      Lindir had been placed in charge of Imladris over our absence, and 
he came out to greet us.  “Greetings, my lord and lady,” he said in his 
smooth, melodic minstrel’s voice.  “We are pleased to see you returned so 
soon.”  I could tell he was surprised at our unexpected arrival.
      
      “Things did not turn out as planned, Lindir,” Elrond explained, 
dismounting his horse.  “There was no need to stay, so we decided not to 
impose on King Thranduil any more than we had to.”
      
      Lindir nodded in understanding, but I saw his attention caught 
elsewhere.  “Hello, who’s this?”  I glanced over to see him looking 
curiously at Legolas.
      
      “This is Prince Legolas of Greenwood, who has come to partake of 
our hospitality for a short time,” Elrond introduced.  “Legolas, welcome to 
Imladris.”
      
      He was already gazing in wonder at the House.  I suppose that after 
living in a place for so many years, one sort of forgets how beautiful it is 
when first one sees it.  But Imladris truly was beautiful.  It was a living 
work of art, made of the trees and rock overshadowing the waterfall of the 
Bruinen.  Ivy and rose arbors curled up the sides, and bridges offered 
those of restless feet a pleasant place to walk.  It was wonderful to come 
home to.
      
      “My lord Elrond, your House is beautiful,” Legolas said softly, 
still staring with mouth agape.  “I am honored by your hospitality.”
      
      “Come, come, let’s go inside.  It’s impolite to keep guests waiting 
on the doorstep.”  Elrond smiled widely at the rest of us, and we followed 
him closer to the House.  Stable hands came and took our horses from us 
away to the stables.
      
      I enjoyed being home.  I knew the Elves we passed in the 
hallways, I knew exactly where those hallways went; even the scent of the 
place was familiar.  Legolas, however, seemed a bit uncomfortable in his 
new surroundings.  I kept him close to me, just so it was clear that he was 
under my protection.  His eyes flickered here and there, taking in all that 
was around him.  I pointed out a few of the rooms that he might be 
interested in, but I doubt he took much notice.
      
      After the evening meal, in which I noted that Legolas did not eat 
much, we retreated to the Hall of Fire.  Lindir sang for us and played his 
lyre, and Gildor told a long story about the Last Alliance.  By the end, 
seeing Legolas’s eyes drooping with exhaustion, I volunteered to take him 
away.
      
      Once we were a safe distance from the Hall of Fire, he took hold of 
my arm and leaned on me.  “Ai,” he said, “I’m so tired I could collapse.”
      
      “You don’t need to stay awake any longer,” I told him, stroking his 
arm.  By the way he leant against me as we walked down the halls, he had 
taken my words to heart.  We entered the doors to my rooms and I led him 
to the bathroom.
      
      “What’s this?” he asked groggily.  I saw his eyes begin to cloud 
over with sleep.
      
      “I’d rather we were clean before we went to sleep.”  Some 
considerate person had put kettles of water to warm over the fire, and I 
poured these thankfully into the tub.  I turned and began to pull Legolas 
out of his clothes, but he blinked and pushed me away.
      
      “I can undress myself,” he said.
      
      I honored his wishes, leaving him to his own clothes while I 
stripped out of mine.  But I hadn’t even dipped a toe into the tub before I 
heard a soft sound behind me.  Legolas had succeeded in removing his 
jacket, but the rest of the clothing remained, and he stood with his face in 
his hands, quietly weeping.
      
      “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said miserably, rubbing at 
his already red eyes.  “Do you know what I mean?  There was never 
supposed to be a child, Glorfindel, not for another few hundred or 
thousand years.  And I never intended to carry it.”  He laughed bitterly.  “I 
will never get a she-Elf with child, now that I know how it feels.”
      
      “Is it really so terrible?” I asked softly.
      
      “I can deal with the sickness, Glorfindel, I can deal with the way 
my body is reacting.  It is the fear that overwhelms me.”  He took a long, 
shuddering breath.  “What will become of me after all of this?  What will 
we do?”
      
      “We can jump that hurdle when we come to it, Calwaquén,” I said, 
as reassuringly as I was able.  “Here, let me help you with your clothing.”
      
      He stood limply, hardly moving to help me off with his clothing.  I 
sighed and lifted him into the bath.  The warm water certainly felt 
refreshing, and I hoped that being clean would help him feel better.  His 
silent tears rolled off my shoulder into the water, but at last he slept, 
tucked tight against me.
      
      I dried him carefully and pulled him close to me in bed.  “We’ll 
figure something out, Calwaquén,” I whispered into his hair.  He 
murmured and put his arms closer about my neck.
      
      ~
      
      Somebody was watching me.  I started as I awoke to alert black 
eyes staring intently into mine.  “Ah, Legolas, you will be the death of 
me,” I said, trying to regain my racing breath.  “Why didn’t you wake me 
up?”
      
      “I did.”  He maneuvered himself onto an elbow, but did not stop 
his inspection of me.
      
      “What are you looking at?”
      
      He didn’t answer the question, just kissed my cheek and left the 
bed.  He looked so normal, I thought to myself as he stood and walked to 
the window.  The sun was well up already, and it made his dark hair glow.
      
      “My patrol leaves in two days,” I said as I reluctantly levered 
myself out of bed.
      
      His movements stilled and he looked up at me.  “I suspect you 
won’t let me come,” he said.
      
      “I’m sorry, Legolas,” I said.  “ ’Tis safer for you here.  You 
shouldn’t overtax yourself.”
      
      I looked up in time to see his scowl.  “So I am to be trapped here 
like a rabbit in winter, while the sun is out and shining and the birds are 
singing?”
      
      “ ’Tis for the best.”  He just frowned deeper.  “Legolas, you need 
to be careful now.  There is more than one life you protect, and I’d rather 
keep both of you safe.”
      
      He turned his gaze stubbornly out the window.  “I’ll need some 
clothing, unless you expect me to wander around Imladris naked.”
      
      I smiled at the thought.  “Much as that might please me, Legolas, I 
don’t think Elrond would be especially happy with that idea.  Here, 
borrow some of mine.”  I tossed him a shirt and leggings.  However, he 
was of a slender build; the leggings were rolled up around his ankles and 
his shirt hung off his shoulders.  Somehow he arranged it so he looked 
presentable, and once the both of us were clothed, we left the room.
      
      ~ Legolas’s POV
      
      Breakfast was a quiet affair.  There was no welcoming return feast 
as there had been the night before, just the family and those closest to 
them.  I picked at my food.  Though the sickness wasn’t too severe that 
morning, I felt no appetite.  I could tell by Glorfindel’s glances that he 
wanted me to eat, but the will was not in me.
      
      The meal finished, Elrond asked me to accompany him to the 
healing houses.  I had expected something of this sort, and my guesses 
were proven correct when he bid me sit on a bed.
      
      “I’m going to examine you, Legolas,” he said as he dug through 
some drawers.  “It’s just to make sure everything is going as it should.  
Take off that shirt.”
      
      I felt a blush on my cheeks as I removed the clothing.  Baring 
myself in such a condition as I was in was not particularly enjoyable.  I 
reasoned that Elrond had seen me shirtless before when he was healing me 
of the spider’s wound.
      
      I sat still as he prodded and poked.  He even looked inside my ears 
and mouth and eyes.  At last he finished his examination and sat back in 
his chair.
      
      “You are still a bit thin from your sickness, Legolas,” he reported 
as I put my shirt on.  “And the first few weeks were difficult and you 
didn’t eat much.  But I think that, given some time and proper food, you’ll 
be just fine.  You seem to be in the prime of health.”  He smiled kindly.  “I 
think you’ll be expecting the child some time in the winter.”
      
      I swallowed.  Winter, a mere half of a year away.  So it would 
come.  I felt a cold fear in my stomach.
      
      “Thank you, my lord,” I said.  My voice sounded distant.  “You 
have been nothing but kind to me.  I fear I can never repay you for this.”  I 
gestured to the rest of Imladris.
      
      “Think not of payment, Legolas.  I do this out of the kindness of 
my heart.”  He chuckled to himself.  “Glorfindel never could keep his 
hands to himself.”  He caught my downcast eyes.  “You must be 
homesick.”
      
      “I’ve never been away from Greenwood and my family.  I’m not 
quite sure how to act.”
      
      “Don’t worry yourself.  We shall do everything we can to make 
you feel at home.”  He smiled again.  “If you wish to, you can leave.  I’ve 
seen all I need to see.”
      
      I nodded and stood to go, but stopped at the doorway.  “Lord 
Elrond, one more thing . . .”
      
      ~ Glorfindel’s POV
      
      Legolas came to find me a few hours after breakfast.  He looked 
thoughtful and withdrawn as he settled on a couch next to me in the 
library.  My curiosity overwhelmed me and I asked the question.
      
      “What did he say?”
      
      He lifted his eyes from the floor and focused on me.  “He said I’m 
doing well.  He wants me to eat more but . . . I’m fine.  Winter.”
      
      “Hmm?”
      
      “He said the child will come in the winter.”
      
      “Ah.”  I could tell that Legolas was still trying to absorb the news.  
I was glad that he no longer looked so miserable, just thoughtful.  The 
hopeful thought came again that perhaps we just might get through this.  I 
shook my head, clearing those thoughts.  I would ponder later.
      
      “Legolas, I should show you the libraries,” I continued.  “There are 
more books here than you could ever hope to read.  Elrond is a great 
collector of lore.”
      
      He nodded.  “I would like that.”
      
      Yet as I showed him the tomes that I thought would interest him 
most, his gaze was elsewhere, perhaps inside him.  Once or twice I caught 
his hands resting curiously on his still-flat belly.  I took to thinking of him 
as my shadow, for he followed me silently and darkly.  Yes, he 
occasionally had a word or two to say, but it seemed to calm him to be 
able to just wander around behind me.
      
      His appetite had returned by dinner and supper.  While he still ate 
far too little for my tastes, at least he was eating something.  He even 
awoke himself from his thoughts for a short while to have a conversation 
with the twins.  For a moment, I saw the old Legolas, as he was before the 
weight of the world had dropped on his shoulders.
      
      “I’m glad it was you, Glorfindel,” Elrond said to me in an 
undertone.  We both glanced at the other end of the table, where Elrohir 
and Legolas laughed at Elladan’s imitation of Erestor.  “Any other Elf and 
I would worry for his wellbeing, but it seems you’ve really come to care 
for him.”
      
      “It would be a cruel and heartless Elf that didn’t care for him by 
now, my lord,” I answered.  “But it pleases me to hear that you think me 
worthy of caring for him.”
      
      He just smiled enigmatically.  His gaze returned to Legolas, and I 
followed it in time to see the Prince release a tired yawn.
      
      “I think I’ll bid you good night, my lord,” I said as I stood.  
“Come, Legolas, you’ve had a long day.”
      
      He yawned again and said goodnight to the rest at the table, and 
silently followed me out the door.
      
      “So how are you liking Imladris, Prince of Greenwood?” I asked 
him.  “You seem to be feeling better.”
      
      “Yes,” he answered.  There was a small smile on his face.  “Yes, I 
like it here.  It’s not at all like my home.  The trees with the needles–“
      
      “Pines?”
      
      “Yes, pines.  Those are my favorites.  We don’t have any in 
Greenwood.  And I like the sound of the waterfall.  The company’s nice, 
too.  Do you ever dance like we do at home?”
      
      “No, I’m afraid not.”  I grinned at his youthful exuberance.  “We 
have no great history of dancing much here, though I daresay you could 
find a few young Elves who would like to learn.”
      
      “Yes.”  He looked thoughtful, and then his eyes sparkled 
mischievously.  “Do you want to learn to dance like a Wood Elf?”
      
      I laughed.  “Dare I say yes?  I’ve seen you dance, Legolas.  I fear 
you would wear my legs out.”
      
      “Is the Balrog Slayer scared of a little hard work?”
      
      “Is that a challenge?  No, let it be said that I only look after your 
own welfare, Legolas.  I don’t want you stressing yourself.”
      
      He glared playfully at me, then grabbed my hand and dragged me 
down the hallway.  Just as I began to wonder where he was taking me, we 
were back at my rooms.  He shut the door behind us.
      
      “That’s better,” he said.  “You have a big room, Glorfindel.
      
      “Imp,” I muttered.  “What are you planning?”
      
      “You’ll see,” he said with a dark smile.  He threw open the drapes 
to let the moonlight in.  “Much better.  Now stand here.  Do you remember 
the music?”
      
      “I suppose . . .”
      
      “Here, hold my hand.  And this hand goes here.”  He put my left 
hand at his waist.  “Now step forward, back, forward; no, use your left 
foot.  Now spin – good.”
      
      He spent a fair amount of time teaching me his dance, humming 
softly in my ear so we kept the pace.  Fortunately it was a slow dance, so I 
was able to focus more on the way the moonlight caught his hair than the 
actual steps.  So lost in my thoughts was I that I tripped, but he just 
laughed and started again.
      
      “If you trip during our slow songs, I would hate to dance with you 
during the fast ones,” he said softly.  He looked up at me with his large 
dark eyes.  “Are you angry with me, Glorfindel?  Are you disappointed 
that this happened?”
      
      “No,” I said, and kissed his forehead.  “Never, Legolas.  For one, I 
would have to be an Orc to be angry with you.  For another . . . ’tis not 
solely your fault.  I played a part in this too.  Like I said, I am determined 
to see this to its end, whatever it may be.  Sometimes I wish that this 
hadn’t happened, that you were able to continue living your life in 
Greenwood, but that is only wishes.  This will turn out for the best, I 
think.”
      
      “It doesn’t seem that way,” he said morosely.  “Let’s not talk about 
love, Glorfindel.  It would end badly.  Whatever happens, I need to return 
to Greenwood, and I have a feeling that my father won’t welcome you as 
my lover.”
      
      “What about your friend?”
      
      He smiled.  “Glorfindel, we could never not be lovers, not with this 
between us.”
      
      “I think you’re right, Calwaquén,” I said, putting a kiss on his hair.  
We were still revolving slowly.
      
      “Why do you call me that?  Why Calwaquén?”
      
      “Because that’s what you are, Legolas.  You are beautiful.”  He 
sighed and shook his head.  “Has no one ever told you so?”
      
      “Nay,” he said, “none before you.  ’Tis dangerous for a Prince of 
Greenwood to be beautiful.  We attract all sorts of dangerous attention.”  
To make his point, he tapped his finger on my chest.
      
      “Not ‘we,’ Legolas.  Only you.  Your brothers are nice enough, but 
you are the only Prince of Greenwood for me.”
      
      He looked up at me again.  “No love, Glorfindel.  It would hurt too 
much.”
      
      I sighed in resignation.  “If I can’t love you, can I at least make 
love to you?  Or would that tire you too much?”
      
      “I asked lord Elrond about it today.  He said it would be fine.  Just 
don’t wear me out too much.  I need my sleep.”