Title: Triskelion
Author: Empy (archer@friction.net)
Pairing: Haldir/Legolas, Rumil/Legolas, Haldir/Rumil
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Not all is fair in Lorien.
Feedback: Please.
Warnings: Incest 
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine. Written for enjoyment, not profit.
Archive: Please ask and ye shall receive.
Notes: Bookverse. Some parts of the narrative and dialogue are lifted from 
the books but not marked. Apostrophes in names have been omitted for 
ease of formatting.
Thanks: to Darkie and Mitzi, my fantastically patient betas. Special thanks 
to Darkie, who has midwifed this whole series.


Sindarin refresher course (most other Sindar is translated in square 
brackets after the line): 
"gwador" is "brother" (not blood-related). 
"firiath" is "mortal". 
"linnellon" is a compound word I made up, meaning "singer" (male) or 
more precisely "singing male Elf".
"Niben mellyn-nin is (hopefully) "my small friends". I imagine it is a 
proper way to greet periannath. ;) 
Any remaining botched Sindar is my fault. 
"Laiqualassë" is Quenya for, you guessed it, "Greenleaf". 

[// indicates italics]
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To Legolas, the mellyrn trees were like mighty sentries standing guard in 
the dark forests around them, the silver of Celebrant and Nimrodel echoed 
in their bark. He tensed briefly, then sprang upward, easily catching a 
branch high above his head. The bark under his hands was much smoother 
than that of the great trees of Mirkwood, and he could almost feel the life 
thrumming through the silver-shadowed wood. Swinging back, he 
prepared to move to another limb. 

"Daro!" a commanding voice suddenly said, the source somewhere in the 
soft grey shadows of the woodwork. Legolas's hold nearly slipped, and he 
swiftly dropped back down to the ground, pressing against the bole of the 
tree. 

"Stand still!" he whispered to the others. "Do not move or speak!" 

There was a sound of soft laughter, and then another clear voice spoke. 

"Did we frighten you, gwador? We have heard you clear across the 
Nimrodel, and knew you to be of the Northern Eldar. And then you sang, 
as prettily as a maiden. As for those you travel with, they breathe so loudly 
they can be shot in the deepest of night." 

"I cannot well ask them not to breathe, nor will I apologize on behalf of 
their ancestry," Legolas retorted, "Firiath have not the skill to walk 
without sound." 

"Such wit," the voice laughed, "climb up, so that we may see you, and 
bring with you the little one who carries so great a burden. The others 
shall wait at the foot of the tree. We have no wish to be accosted by so 
many mortals. Tell them they will keep watch while we weigh our choices 
as to what we will do with you." 

"Who are they, and what do they say?" Merry asked. 

"They're Elves. Can't you hear their voices?" Sam said, his eyes gazing up 
at the branchwork. 

"Yes, they are Elves," Legolas confirmed, "They say that you breathe so 
loud that they could shoot you in the dark." 

Sam quickly clapped his hand over his mouth, trying to hold his breath for 
as long as possible. He started as a rope ladder was dropped, the light 
material uncurling soundlessly and swaying for the briefest instant before 
stilling. 

"They have known of our presence for a long while," Legolas continued, 
"ever since they heard my voice across the Nimrodel and knew me to be 
of their Northern kin. They also heard my song, and did not hinder our 
passing. They wish to speak to Frodo, for it seems they have some tidings 
of our journey. I will climb up with him. They ask the rest of you to 
remain on the ground and keep watch, until they have reached a decision 
as to what they will do." 

The silvery rope ladder was spun and knotted from Elven rope, silken to 
the touch but strong as steel. Moving swiftly, Legolas climbed up, then set 
his palms flat on the silvery boards and heaved himself up onto the talan. 

The dim light was more than adequate for his eyes, and he could well 
make out three Elves, all sitting cross-legged on the floor, their grey 
cloaks drawn around them to shield them from both the cold and from 
prying eyes. All were dressed in the same simple garb, and they were alike 
enough in face for Legolas to conclude they were brothers. 

"Your face is almost as pretty as your voice, gwador," the Elf on the far 
right noted, shooting Legolas a sly look. "Come, sit by me and tell us 
more." 

Legolas opened his mouth to give a stinging retort, then thought better of 
it and sank down to sit at a respectable distance from the still-smiling Elf. 
All of the three were blonde, as was to be expected of Elves of the Golden 
Wood, and their long hair was arrayed in identical topknots, the tail 
braided neatly. 

"Does the linnellon have a name, perchance?" 

"Legolas is the name given to me," Legolas bristled, annoyed at the name 
that had already been bestowed upon him. 

The Elf on the far right, who until now had been silent, cocked his head to 
the side, looking Legolas up and down before speaking. 

"Tis a name well suited for such a youngling. Frail and easily swayed, just 
like a young leaf." 

Legolas swallowed his angry words, thinking he should not be the one to 
squander their chances by mouthing off to elder Elves. Suddenly, Frodo's 
small hands appeared on the head of the ladder, followed by his tousled 
head. He climbed up, followed closely by Sam, and the two Hobbits stood 
silent and awkward in front of the Eldar. The middlemost stood up, as did 
Legolas and the two others. 

"Mae govannen, niben mellyn-nin. Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo," the 
tallest Elf said, bowing his head. 

"Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo," Frodo repeated, his speech slower and 
more hesitant. Sam inched closer to Frodo, but remained silent. 

"Welcome!" the Elf said, in Westron this time, his words patiently chosen, 
"We do not often use any language but our own, as we do not willingly 
meet with other folk. A few of us wander to the other lands for news and 
to scout, and they speak the other tongues. I, Haldir, am one of them. 
Rumil and Orophin, my brothers, speak but very little of your language." 

Legolas noted that neither Rumil nor Orophin hid their cool amusement at 
the appearance of the Hobbits very well. They seemed to stretch, drawing 
on their full height, enhancing the contrast between the tall, slender Elves 
and the short Hobbits even more. Yet he shouldn't rebuke them, Legolas 
thought, for he himself often did the same when in the presence of 
mortals. 

"Elrond's messengers, heading for the Dimrill Stair, brought tidings of 
your coming," Haldir went on, then smiled at Frodo. "We have not heard 
of periannath, halflings -- or Hobbits -- for many long years. Indeed, we 
were not even certain that you dwelled here still!" He paused. "You do not 
look to be evil. And you travel with an Elf of our kindred, and so we are 
willing to grant Elrond's wish for us to befriend you. Have care - it is not 
our custom to lead strangers freely through our lands. You must stay here 
tonight, however. How many are you?" 

Legolas stepped around to stand next to Frodo and faced Haldir. "There 
are eight," he said, "I, four Hobbits, and two men. One of them is Aragorn, 
an Elf-friend of the Westernesse folk." 

This seemed to pacify Haldir, who confirmed that Aragorn had the favour 
of the Lady, yet as Legolas revealed that the eighth member of their 
fellowship was a Dwarf, he balked. "I cannot allow him to pass," he 
protested. 

Frodo chose that moment to speak. 

"He is one of Dain's folk, trusty and friendly to Elrond. The lord of 
Rivendell chose him to be a member of this fellowship, and he has proven 
to be brave and faithful." 

"I care not to have a Dwarf stomping around!" Orophin protested. "Indeed, 
which is now the greater threat, Orcs or Dwarves?" 

"I agree with Orophin," Rumil said, "for the folk of Aulë are the bane of 
Elves, and I will not lead one of that kin. What folly has led you to wander 
with him, young one?" 

"Legolas, is it indeed as the halfling says, that the Naugol is to be trusted?" 
Haldir asked, "Strange it seems to me that you should abide his company 
without protest." 

"He has proven himself loyal," Legolas said simply, ignoring Rumil's and 
Orophin's questions. "And though I hold some reservations, I am willing 
to speak in his favour." 

"Very well," Haldir said, turning to the Hobbits, "We agree to do this, 
even though it is not to our liking. If Aragorn and Legolas will speak for 
him and guard him, he shall pass. However, he must go blindfolded 
through Laurelindorinan." 

He stopped for a second, seeming to listen. 

"We must debate no longer," he continued, "and your folk must not remain 
on the ground. A great troop of Orcs has been spotted marching toward 
Moria, many days ago. Peril cannot be far away if you indeed have come 
from Moria, and so you must go on early tomorrow. The four Hobbits 
shall stay here with us, for we do not fear them. The others, the Firiath and 
the Dwarf, will take refuge on the talan in the next tree. You shall answer 
for them, Legolas. Call us if anything is amiss - and have an eye on the 
Naugol!" 

Legolas nodded in acquiescence, and climbed down the rope ladder, 
dropping to the ground four steps before the end of the ladder. 

"Merry and Pippin will sleep on this talan," he said, "and Aragorn, 
Boromir, Gimli and I shall take the talan there, in the next tree. We will 
continue early in the morning." 

Strider gave a curt nod. Instructing Merry and Pippin to gather the 
blankets, he proceeded to carry the packs off to a thicket of underbrush 
heaped high with leaves. The leaf-pile served well as a temporary hiding-
place for the packs. 

Haldir had also climbed down, and held the swaying ladder still as the two 
Hobbits climbed up laden with their blankets. He caught Legolas's eye and 
kept the gaze unflinching until Legolas broke away, unnerved by the 
scrutiny with which Haldir seemed to be mapping his features. 
Stammering an intention to climb up into the other tree to let the ladder 
down, he walked away, feeling the weight of Haldir's gaze on his back. 

As he climbed the mallorn, he realized he was purposefully taking a 
difficult route, one that necessitated well-timed leaps. Was he trying to 
impress Haldir? He would not risk a glance down to see if Haldir was still 
looking. 

Well up on the talan, he shook his head at his own foolishness. Since when 
had it become important to him to impress wardens? He was the Prince of 
Mirkwood, well used to his title and to dealing with others of the same 
stature. And yet now *he* was the one trying to impress. 

Letting the ladder down, he climbed down to sit on one of the lower 
branches. A small smile ghosted over his lips as Gimli climbed up, 
holding on to the rope more tightly than was strictly necessary. Risking a 
quick glance to the side, he noted that Haldir had gone. All the better. He 
did not want to feel the weight of that gaze again. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legolas found he could not rest easy on the talan. Aragorn, as well as both 
Gimli and Boromir, had fallen asleep as soon as they lay down, weary as 
they were after the long trek. The forest was still save for the faint rustling 
of the leaves in the night breeze, but it seemed not even that could grant 
him a moment's rest. Sinking back against the bundled-up cloak he used 
for a makeshift pillow, he closed his eyes, thinking he might force himself 
into the waking sleep of his kin. 

A faint whisper of cloth caught his attention and he opened his eyes. When 
he lifted his head, he could clearly discern Haldir. The March Warden sat 
still, his gaze locked on Legolas. 

"Are your dreams troubled?" he asked, his voice so low only Elven ears 
would have heard it. There was a strange tone to the question, and Legolas 
nodded. 

"I cannot rest easy for grief and worry," he confessed. 

"'Tis sad to see a face of such beauty marred by melancholy," Haldir said, 
soundlessly rising from his place and seating himself next to Legolas's 
supine form. He trailed his fingers over Legolas's forehead, smoothing out 
the lines of worry that had formed there. 

"Rest easy, gwador," he mumbled, "I will watch." 

Wrapping the fur-lined cloak closer around him, Legolas silently accepted 
this strange gesture. Haldir was gazing out into the night, his fingers 
seeming to move of their own accord, tracing over Legolas's face and 
drawing the tension away. The feather-light touch was soothing, and soon 
Legolas fell to dreaming about the fair halls of Rivendell and of his own 
home in Mirkwood. 

He was rudely roused from his dreaming by the tramp of heavy, booted 
feet and the guttural speech of Orcs. Haldir was nowhere to be seen, and 
though Legolas strained his ears, he could not hear him either. Silently he 
crept to the edge of the talan to look down. All he saw was the retreating 
backs of the Orcs as they headed deeper into the woods, and then a swift 
flicker of motion near the next tree. 

Before he had the chance to try and find out what it was, Haldir appeared 
next to the tree, and as soon as his palms touched the stem of the tree, the 
shape disappeared. Turning his head, the warden looked at Legolas, his 
dark eyes as unreadable as they had been before. 

Once more, Legolas was the one to look away. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As morning came, cold and pale, Legolas felt as though he had not rested 
at all. The sight of the Orcs tramping through the forest, as well as Haldir's 
strange looks, were gnawing at him. Perils they had faced already, and 
more were to come - and now one more burden had been laid on his 
shoulders. 

Would it be right to accept Haldir's unspoken offer?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the Hobbits had been roused and all of the packs and gear collected 
from their foliaceous hiding-place, Haldir announced that he and Rumil 
would take the task of guiding the Fellowship onward. Haldir's gaze 
lingered no longer on Legolas than on anyone else, and Legolas found 
himself strangely nervous despite it. 

"Farewell, sweet Nimrodel!" Legolas called as they set out. The image of 
the silvery stream lingered in his memory, as did the melodic rush of its 
waters. 

The course taken was the one running along the west side of Celebrant, 
and the company followed it for some time, keeping southward. Legolas 
noted that orc-prints still marred the earth of the path, and suppressed a 
shudder at thought of the vile creatures tramping onward into the still 
forest. 

Suddenly, Haldir stopped, stepping into the shadows of the trees by the 
stream. He motioned for the others to halt, and let forth a low whistle 
sounding like the call of a bird. 

"One of my people is there, across the stream, " he said, "although you 
may not see him." 

Legolas had noted the other Elf as soon as they halted, yet only because of 
the stray lock of golden hair that had escaped the confines of the hood and 
which shone against the silver bark of the young trees. 

Grasping a coil of silvery rope, Haldir threw the other end to the Elf on the 
opposite bank. Securing their respective ends, they thus fashioned a path 
over the swiftly rushing waters of the icy stream. Haldir crossed easily, his 
steps as effortless as if he had been walking a paved road instead of a 
slender rope. 

//So, now the roles have changed//, Legolas thought - //it is now he who 
poses for me, and not the opposite.// Yet was that what he wanted? 

"This is how we cross," Haldir said, "for in these times of danger bridges 
cannot be built. The waters of Celebrant run both swift and cold here, and 
we will not set foot in it unless we must." 

Legolas's train of thought was cut short as he realized Haldir wished for 
some confirmation on his part. 

"I can walk this path, " he said, "but the others have not this skill. Is it their 
lot to swim?" 

"Oh no," Haldir said, smiling, "we have two more ropes. One we will 
fasten at waist-height and the other at the height of the shoulder. If they 
hold to these, the Firiath will be able to cross." 

Setting one foot onto the rope, Legolas pressed down lightly to gauge the 
tautness of the rope, then lifted his other foot as well and crossed the 
makeshift bridge easily. 

He missed the knowing smile Rumil gave his brother. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When all of the company had crossed the makeshift bridge, Rumil 
remaining on the other side and coiling up the ropes before returning to his 
post, Haldir explained that they now had entered the Naith of Lorien. 

"We allow no strangers to spy here, and few are even permitted to tread 
these grounds. The others may walk freely for a while, at least until we 
come closer to our dwellings in Egladil, the Angle, but I must, as we 
agreed, bind they eyes of Gimli the Dwarf." 

As was to be expected, Gimli did not take this singling out kindly. Hand 
on the hilt of his axe, he loudly protested: 

"I had no say in this matter, and I shall most certainly not walk blindfold 
like a beggar. My folk have never allied with the Enemy, and I am no spy! 
We have never done harm to the Elves, and I am no more likely to betray 
you than Legolas or any other member of the Fellowship." 

"I do not doubt that." His voice calm, Haldir explained: "This is our law. I 
am not a master of it, and I have not the right to set it aside as I see fit. I 
have already done much in letting you cross Celebrant." 

Gimli would have none of it, however, and kept his grip on the haft of his 
axe. 

"I will walk free or I will go back and seek my own land, where I am 
known to be true of word, though I should perish alone in the wilderness." 

"You cannot turn back," Haldir said, his voice suddenly stern. "Now, as 
you have come thus far, you must be brought before the Lord and the 
Lady. They shall judge you, and it is their choice to hold you or to give 
you leave, as they will. You cannot cross the rivers again, and behind you 
there are now secret sentinels that you cannot pass. You would be slain 
before you saw them." 

Gimli drew his axe from his belt, yet no sooner had the blade been bared 
than Haldir and his companion had drawn their bows. Neither party 
seemed to be willing to step down. 

"A plague on Dwarves and their stiff necks!" Legolas said, at once 
exasperated with both Gimli's stubborn pride and Haldir's confidence in 
his authority. Gimli had his axe ready to strike with a second's warning, 
and Haldir had his bow at full draw, the strong fingers merely awaiting the 
moment to let the string go. 

"If I am still to lead this Company, you must do as I bid," Aragorn said, 
interfering in the silent warring of wills. "It is hard upon the Dwarf to be 
thus singled out. We will all go blindfolded, even Legolas. That will be 
best, though it will make the journey slow and dull." 

Gimli laughed suddenly, a rumbling laughter, and he lowered his axe but 
did not return it to his belt. Haldir relaxed a fraction, shortening the draw 
somewhat but keeping the arrow nocked. 

"Will you laugh, then, Master Elf?" Gimli said, "Will it amuse you to see 
the troop of fools we shall be, led on a string like so many blind beggars 
guided by a single dog?" He paused. "I will be content, however, if only 
Legolas shares my blindness." 

"I am an Elf and a kinsman here," Legolas protested in turn, anger flaring. 

"Now let us cry: a plague on the stiff necks of Elves!" Aragorn sighed. 
"But the Company shall all fare alike. Haldir, bind our eyes." 

"I shall claim full amends for every fall and stubbed toe, if you do not lead 
us well," said Gimli as they bound his eyes. 

Haldir gently tied a wide strip of soft, Elven-woven fabric over Legolas's 
eyes, watching to see he didn't snag any of the silky hair in the knot. He 
pressed close, as close as he could get without arousing the suspicion of 
his fellow Guard, his fingers twining in Legolas's silken hair for the 
briefest instant. 

"I must do this," he breathed, "my fair one, or else your companions would 
think me to favour you." 

"Do you?" Legolas asked, his voice soft with laughter. 

"What do you think?" Haldir retorted, letting go. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With his eyes blindfolded, Legolas found his other senses had sharpened, 
predictably, and that his lack of vision still let him form an image of his 
surroundings. The sounds, scents and textures wove a more complete 
image than even his Elven eyes could have. He could hear the soft rustle 
of the leaves and moss as the Hobbits settled down to sleep. Boromir 
stomped around for a moment, the heavy footfalls belying his warrior's 
upbringing, then settled to talk shortly with Gimli. Aragorn, Estel-raised-
by-Elves, was far more silent. 

As Legolas leaned back against the tree he knew to be behind him, a 
strong arm thwarted his movement. Whisper of Elven-cloak, and then 
warm breath against his ear in a teasing caress. 

"Walk with me, gwador." 

Legolas put his hand out to the side, feeling the familiar curve of his bow 
under his palm. Strong fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling the 
motion. 

"There is no need for you to bear arms at this time," Haldir noted. "You 
will not need it, unless you know how to shoot blindfolded." 

Ignoring the jab, Legolas turned, taking the arm proffered. The falling 
dusk deepened the shade behind his eyelids to indigo. 

As they walked in silence for a moment, their soft footfalls barely heard, 
the proprietary hold Haldir had on Legolas's arm shifted, loosened, only to 
be replaced by a steady grip around his waist. 

"Haldir, where are you leading me?" Legolas ventured. "It serves little 
purpose to lead me around dells I cannot see." 

"Sight is not the only sense, gwador", Haldir whispered, his voice so close, 
"ai, there is smell, hearing, taste... and touch," he drawled, voice soft. 

Legolas halted mid-step, shaken, as he weighed the possibilities hid in 
Haldir's cryptic comment. Was this an invitation? And yes, it would be a 
welcome one - a full month of travel through the wilderness in the 
company of brutish Men and Dwarves, a wizened Istari and childlike 
Hobbits had left him longing for the pleasures only another Eldar could 
grant. Meanwhile, Haldir stepped around to stand in front of Legolas, his 
other arm sliding around Legolas's waist, the fingers lacing at the small of 
the back. A slight tug brought Legolas closer. The fingers unlaced, the 
hands let go, and there was a second in which Legolas had the choice to 
leave or stay. He did not move. 

A soft chuckle from Haldir, the sound free of rebuke or mockery. Almost 
a laugh of relief. 

Legolas did not start at the feel of Haldir's warm hands cupping his face, 
nor at the sensation of a soft mouth on his. His lips parted - of their own 
volition, it seemed - welcoming the invasion. Haldir's hold on his face 
forced some distance between them, and Legolas felt he was being kissed 
far too formally, like an Elf maiden receiving a farewell kiss in front of 
her sire. He reached up, taking hold of Haldir's wrists and moving the 
hands away. Haldir's hair was cool and smooth under his hands, and he 
twined his fingers into it, pulling the other Elf closer. 

"Keep the blindfold, gwador," Haldir said softly, "it should not hinder 
you." 

"You have a strange sense of rules and law, tirn-nin," Legolas smiled, 
leaning in for another kiss. "But I will do as you say." 

He could feel Haldir's mouth curve to a smile against his lips. 

A callused fingertip traced the shell of his ear, then continued down along 
the curve of his jaw, down the line of his neck and to the clasp of the 
cloak. Relaxing in the blindness, Legolas marvelled at how intimate the 
simple gesture felt. Undoing the silver clasp, Haldir let the cloak fall to the 
floor of the clearing. Nimble fingers undid the buckle of the narrow belt 
wound around the slim waist, coiling the belt up and dropping it onto the 
rumpled cloak. The wristlets were removed, slowly, Haldir's fingertips 
tracing the lines of the strong wrist. The outer tunic followed, the soft 
green fabric sliding down long strong arms to join the cloak on the forest 
floor. 

Shimmer of moonlight in the fabric of the thin silk undershirt, and Haldir 
set his palms against the wide chest, letting the heat seep through. Nipples 
hardening in response, the faintest echo of a gasp from Legolas as Haldir 
let his nails trace the hardened peaks. 

"Do you trust me?" Haldir asked, kneeling down to pull off the soft boots 
Legolas wore. 

"Yes," Legolas whispered as he elegantly stepped out of the boots, setting 
graceful feet down on the leaves without a sound. 

"Do you have reason to?" Haldir asked. 

A smile curved the full lips of the younger Elf. "Yes, Haldir, I have reason 
to." 

Hands against his calves, then, as Haldir gripped the long legs. Long 
fingers travelling up the muscled thighs, over the ticklish valley between 
hip and pelvis. Fingers hooking into the waistband of the leggings, 
touching the skin carefully as if touch could ruin the silky span. The lacing 
of the breeches proved no obstacle, and Legolas drew a deep, shuddering 
breath as his erection sprang free of its confinement, tenting the soft tunic. 

Stepping out of the soft garment, Legolas held out his hands, searching for 
Haldir. A smile turned the edges of the full mouth up as the March warden 
laced his fingers with Legolas's, rising to kiss him. 

"Malthen-nith." [//Golden youth//] 

The word passing in the minuscule space between their lips, a soft breath 
released and caught. Haldir's voice was soft like smoke. 

"Tirn-nin," [//My watcher//] Legolas whispered in turn, biting gently at 
Haldir's lower lip. 

Hips rocking into hips, the twin hardnesses meeting, and three steps back 
led them to the soft, canopied bed formed by a mellyrn sapling and the 
moss beneath. Wrapping his arms around Legolas's narrow waist, Haldir 
kneeled down, urging Legolas down with him. Legolas arched into 
Haldir's embrace, wantonly rubbing up against the elder Elf in a bid to 
increase the friction of the silk against his straining erection. 

The rest of the movement was more a tumble than what would have been 
the customary way of Eldar. 

Legolas fell back, his movement seeming as light as air. Haldir looked 
down on him, at the lithe form sprawled out on the dark ground. Seating 
himself between Legolas's spread legs, Haldir opened the catches on the 
light shirt, pressing kisses to the exposed skin, delighting in the shivers he 
caused. 

As Legolas lay naked in front of him, the pale skin shimmering with its 
own contained light, Haldir found his breath catching in his throat. His 
hands traced patterns on the soft skin, scraping lightly with his nails, 
loving the sight and sound of the younger Elf writhing under him utterly 
without shame. Shrugging out of his own tunic and shirt and kicking his 
boots off, Haldir climbed to straddle the still-blindfolded Legolas. He 
grasped Legolas's weeping cock gently, gauging the reaction by a few deft 
strokes. 

"Avo baul-enni!" Legolas whispered, "Im-boe na-tired melethron-nin..." 
[//Stop tormenting me! I need to see my lover...//] 

"An daf-nin, lhend-nin... an daf-nin," [//With my permission, my sweet... 
with my permission.//] Haldir whispered into Legolas's ear, nipping at the 
point before moving back to wriggle out of his leggings. 

Freed from all restrictive clothing, he leaned in, pressing butterfly kisses 
to Legolas's face and neck, all while his fingers mapped out the smooth 
skin. The younger Elf's arms came up, wrapping around him, pressing him 
close, and both men groaned as their erections slid against each other, 
slick underside to slick underside. Haldir's knees were sinking into the soft 
moss, the filaments tickling his thighs. 

Haldir reached down into the narrow space between their bodies, his 
fingers curling into the cleft between Legolas's buttocks. As his fingertips 
brushed the puckered opening, there was a pleased little sound from 
Legolas. 

"Ai, im-boe le-nedh-enni..." [//I need you inside me...//] 

"Pan ned annan." [//All in time.//] Haldir said, pleased that he had found a 
spot to exploit. He continued moving his fingers, pressing down to see 
how Legolas reacted. Every little sound was a personal victory, and the 
whimper Legolas made when Haldir bit at the soft lobe of his ear was the 
sweetest of witnesses to the ease with which Haldir was undoing the 
impetuous young Elf. 

Legolas's hands were not idle, and Haldir smiled as the strong fingers 
laced behind his head to pull him down into a deep kiss. A touch of teeth 
in the kiss, and a promise of far less restraint. 

"Make good your promise to show me that there are other senses than 
sight, Haldir," Legolas said between kisses. 

Bending close, Haldir took one peaked nipple into his mouth, sucking 
gently, then withdrew. A light gust of breath over the slickened skin, 
culling forth a soft sigh from Legolas. 

There was a faded scar running along Legolas's collarbone, and Haldir 
took his time tracing and retracing it, delighting in the silken feel of the 
skin. As he pressed a kiss to a spot just under Legolas's ear, there was no 
mistaking the buck of Legolas's hips. 

"Have I found a weak spot, gwador?" Haldir smiled. 

"No part of me is weak," Legolas protested, his thumbs tracing over 
Haldir's cheekbones. As his fingers curled up to rest under Haldir's jaw, 
the Lorien Elf found he was the one fighting to breathe evenly. So 
cunning, those fingers, mapping out by tactile clues instead of visual ones. 

As much as Haldir would have wished to continue his slow exploration of 
the young prince's weaknesses, his present state of arousal made itself 
painfully evident as Legolas arched upward. 

"Please..." Haldir said, voice ragged, "stop for but a moment." 

Tearing himself away from Legolas's hold, Haldir groped for the small 
phial of bowstring wax he carried in his belt. Closing his hand around the 
cold glass, he waited until his body heat warmed it. Legolas had laid his 
hands to rest on Haldir's waist, as if to seek confirmation that the other Elf 
was still there. 

Quickly warming the wax between his palms, coating his fingers and shaft 
with the silky mass, Haldir lifted Legolas's left leg to lay it on his 
shoulder. Loosely grasping Legolas's cock, he let his fingers slide slowly 
down the length of it, then trailed further down. As the first joint of 
Haldir's finger passed the ring of muscle, Legolas tensed up briefly. 

"Relax," Haldir crooned as another finger joined the first, and was 
promptly rewarded with a moan from Legolas. The younger Elf had dug 
his fingers into the soft ground, and as Haldir's questing fingers found the 
slight ridge deep inside him, Legolas jerked his head back, the silvery hair 
billowing against the dark green moss. 

Sliding his hand up Legolas's thigh, holding the long leg in place, Haldir 
placed the already weeping head of his cock against the delicately 
puckered opening. A slow push, feeling the sphincter yield. Breathless 
moan from Legolas as Haldir leaned in, levelling his hips to strike deeper. 
Legolas's hands fisted in Haldir's hair to pull him close. 

Hilted in Legolas's tight body, Haldir claimed Legolas's mouth in a rough 
kiss, stealing the breath from the younger Elf. Drawing back, he repeated 
the slow slide into the silken heat, and Legolas arched under him, 
spreading his legs further. The grip of his hands in Haldir's long hair was 
almost getting to be painful. 

Haldir found that he had closed his eyes, and wondered in some still part 
of his mind if this was how Legolas felt. Every sensation seemed 
amplified. The silk of the blindfold was cool against his skin as he leaned 
in to kiss Legolas again, and once more he found Legolas was trying to 
take control. 

He increased the pace, still careful not to rush. This was a sensation too 
sweet to be wasted in the same manner as a quick tryst. 

Letting go of Legolas's leg, Haldir slid his hands under Legolas's hips, his 
thumbs folding around the crest of the hipbones. With the next deep thrust, 
Legolas bent his head back, his mouth forming an o around the moan. 

Harder thrusts now, faster, as Haldir found he could not maintain the slow 
pace he wished. The feeling was too intoxicating, the heat and friction 
burning at his nerve endings like wildfire. Strands of his hair were 
plastered against his forehead, and his hold on Legolas's skin was nearly 
slipping. 

Legolas was already tossing his head, biting his lower lip to keep his 
moans down. The blindfold was slipping, riding upward, but Haldir saw 
that Legolas's eyes were shut tightly. Legolas was countering the thrusts, 
his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking in time. 

As Haldir thrust deep again, he felt the telltale shiver along his spine, and 
he took Legolas's sweat-sheened face into his hands, bringing their mouths 
together in a soul-searing kiss. Legolas snaked his arms around Haldir's 
back in a hold that was not so much intimate as it seemed desperate. 

One last buck of his hips, and as Legolas screamed his orgasm into 
Haldir's mouth, he felt himself plummeting as well. Stars behind his 
closed eyelids, a blinding white vortex. Sweet thrill after sweet thrill, and 
the warm rush of Legolas's release between their interlocked bodies. He 
tasted blood in his mouth, not sure if it was his or Legolas's. Legolas was 
writhing, whimpering softly, his nails still dug into Haldir's back. 

Breaking the kiss, Haldir moved to lie on his side, folding Legolas into a 
loose embrace. Their breathing fell into the same pace, and neither spoke. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the light dapple of sweat on their skin dried, Legolas reached for the 
blindfold still covering his eyes, only to have his hand slapped away. 

"No, gwador. I do not want them to think I favour you." 

"You do not favour me?" Legolas asked, laughter in his voice, curling into 
Haldir's embrace. 

"No." Haldir's reply was flat, and he shifted, disengaging the hold and 
rising. Legolas lay still for a moment, breathing in the cold night air, then 
twitched as he felt cloth touch his stomach. 

"Thank you," he managed after realizing Haldir was cleaning him off. 

Haldir kept silent, and after finishing his duty, Legolas could hear him 
dress himself, the movements curt and precise. Legolas sat up, feeling for 
his own discarded clothing. Haldir helped him up, handing him his clothes 
and helping fasten the occasional buckle that proved too intricate for the 
blindfolded Legolas. 

The walk back to the makeshift camp was made in silence, Haldir's arm 
hooked into Legolas's in an oddly chaste grip. 

"Take your rest, gwador," was all Haldir said before walking off. 

An oddly soiled feeling came over Legolas as he lay back, resting his back 
against the wide bole of the tree. It had been nothing but pleasurable, this 
comfort of a brother in arms, but Haldir's chill surprised Legolas. 
//
Or perhaps it surprises you to be the receiver of such coldness? //

Dreams eluded him once more. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning they continued, walking without haste, and though Legolas 
could hear Haldir's steps he did not hear the other Elf speak. At noon they 
halted, as a host of Elves had crossed their path. Legolas heard Haldir and 
his kinsman confer with the other Elves, and learned that the Orcs had 
been waylaid and most of them slain, with what few remained pursued by 
guards. A strange creature had been spotted as well, running on both hands 
and feet. The guards had not shot it as they did not know if it was hostile 
or friendly, and it had run along Celebrant, headed southward. 

"They bring me a message from the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. You 
are all to walk free, even the Dwarf Gimli. It seems that the Lady knows 
who and what is each member of your Company. New messages have 
come from Rivendell perhaps," Haldir said. 

"Your pardon!" Haldir said to Gimli. "Look on us now with friendly eyes! 
Look and be glad, for you are the first Dwarf to behold the trees of the 
Naith of Lorien since Durin's Day!" 

The other Elf untied Legolas's blindfold, and even though Legolas had 
realized from the whispering of the wind that there were great trees 
nearby, the sight stunned him. 

On a great mound two circles of trees grew like a double crown: the outer 
trees had bark of snowy white, and were leafless but no less beautiful for 
it; the inner were high mellyrn, still bearing leaves of pale gold. High 
among the branches of a towering tree that stood in the centre of all a 
white talan could be discerned. 

At the feet of the trees, and all over the green hillsides the grass was 
studded with star-shaped flowers, small and golden. Among them were 
other flowers of white and palest green. The sun, lending its golden light 
over all and casting long green shadows under the trees, shone from a blue 
sky. 

"Behold! You are come to Cerin Amroth," Haldir said. "This is the heart 
of the ancient realm as it was long ago, and here is the mound of Amroth, 
where in happier days his high house was built. Here ever bloom the 
winter flowers in the unfading grass: the yellow elanor, and the pale 
niphredil. Here we will stay awhile, and come to the city of the Galadhrim 
at dusk." 

Closing his eyes again, Legolas lay down in the grass, listening to the 
wind and the whisper of all living things. The soft grass under his palms 
rekindled a quick flash of memory, yet it faded quickly as the light and 
magic of Lothlórien wove its spell. 

He could hear Haldir speak to Frodo, and the soft tone of Haldir's voice 
tore at him. Haldir had not spoken to him since the night before, neither to 
guide nor to comfort. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After some time, Haldir and Frodo returned, and the Fellowship continued 
their travels through the woods. Dusk fell in velvet tones of grey, and the 
Elves marching with them uncovered their silver lamps. Haldir walked 
silent, the silvery light of the lamps lending his pale-gold hair a shimmer 
like starlight. 

//Was this how he looked in moonlight? Was his face as still then?//

As they passed out of the forest and saw the darkened canopy of the early 
night sky, a wide space devoid of trees stood before them. It ran in a wide 
circle, bending away out of sight on either side. A deep fosse could be 
glimpsed, fading away into shadow, but the grass on its brink had no 
shadow, as though the sunlight was still lingering there. 

On the further side a green wall rose high around an equally verdant hill. 
The slope was densely set with mellyrn trees, all of them higher than any 
yet seen by the travellers. The many-tiered branches were set with 
countless lights gleaming in green, gold, and pale silver. 

Haldir turned to face the Fellowship, and there was a proud smile on his 
face. 

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon!" he said. "Here is the city of the Galadhrim 
where the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel the Lady of Lorien dwell. We 
cannot enter here, for the gates do not look northward. We must go round 
to the southern side, and the way is not short, for the city is great." 

A road paved with smooth white stone ran along the outer brink of the 
fosse, and they walked along this path, seeing the city rise higher and 
higher on their left. The darkness grew more dense, and at the same time, 
more and more lights lit up, lending the hill a gleam like flames of 
starlight. At last they came to a bridge, and as they crossed it, the great 
gates came before them. They faced southwest, placed as they were in the 
juncture of the end of the great wall. Legolas drew a deep breath at the 
sight of the lamp-bedecked gates that seemed to stretch as high as the 
mellyrn trees. 

Haldir knocked on the great gates and spoke, and the gates opened 
soundlessly, and as the wanderers stepped inside, Legolas absent-
mindedly noted there were no guards. 

They were in a deep lane between the ends of the wall, and passing 
quickly through it they entered the City of the Trees. Legolas could hear 
singing, and he longed to join the chorus, yet decided against it. Who 
knew if his voice would betray his heart? 

As they came up to the high places, a large lawn stretched out before 
them, and on this lawn was a large fountain lit by silver lamps. The 
fountain fell into a silver basin, which in turn let a white stream spill forth. 
The mightiest tree stood on the southern side of the wide lawn , its lowest 
branches so wide they seemed like clouds of leaves. A broad silver-white 
ladder stood beside it. Three Elves, dressed in grey mail and white cloaks, 
stood guard, tall and proud. 

"Here dwell Celeborn and Galadriel," Haldir said. "It is their wish that you 
should ascend and speak with them." 

One of the Elf-wardens then blew a clear note on a small horn, and it was 
answered three times from far above. 

"I will go first," Haldir went on. "Let Frodo come next and with him 
Legolas. The others may follow as they wish. It is a long climb for those 
that are not accustomed to such stairs, but you may rest upon the way." 

Legolas searched in vain for some change in Haldir's tone of voice, but 
found none, and Haldir was looking at everything except him. 

As they climbed, passing telain interwoven with the tree and the ladder, 
Legolas tried to push any thoughts of Haldir and the past night out of his 
mind, wishing he could forget. 

High above the ground they stepped onto a large talan, so wide it easily 
accommodated a house as large as one of the halls of Men. Haldir entered 
first, and Frodo followed him. Legolas walked behind the two, his tread 
uncertain. 

The hall that opened in front of him was oval, wrapping around the bole of 
the mallorn. Soft light illuminated the room, reflecting off the golden 
ceiling. Legolas quickly glanced around, noting the many Elves already 
seated there. Celeborn and Galadriel sat beneath the bole of the tree, and 
as Haldir, Frodo, and Legolas approached, they stood up to greet them. 

At the sight of the Elven Lord and Lady, Legolas bowed his head, setting 
his right hand over his heart. He had heard many legends and songs of the 
Noldorin Lady of the Wood, and yet he found now that they lacked in 
praise. Both Celeborn and Galadriel were clad in white, the garments 
shimmering as the pair stood up to greet the guests. Their faces were 
grave, yet not stern, and their eyes like cloudless skies at night. 

Haldir led Frodo before them, and Celeborn greeted him warmly. The 
Lady sat silent, merely looking at Frodo. Celeborn then turned to Legolas, 
who lifted his head to properly receive the greeting. 

"Welcome son of Thranduil! Too seldom do my kindred journey hither 
from the North." 

As the rest of the Fellowship filed into the hall, Celeborn duly greeted 
them. When all were seated in front of the Lord and Lady, Celeborn 
looked at them again, speaking with what seemed like hesitation. 

"Here there are eight," he said. "Nine were to set out: so said the 
messages. But maybe there has been some change of counsel that we have 
not heard. Elrond is far away, and darkness gathers between us, and all 
this year the shadows have grown longer." 

"Nay, there was no change of counsel," Galadriel said, speaking for the 
first time. To Legolas, her voice seemed like song, low and musical. 
"Mithrandir set out with the Fellowship, but he did not pass the borders of 
this land. I ask you to tell me where he is, for I much desire to speak with 
him again. Yet I cannot see him from afar, unless he comes within the 
fences of Lothlórien: a grey mist is around him, and the ways of his feet 
and of his mind are hidden from me." 

"Alas!" Aragorn said. "Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in 
Moria and did not escape." 

At these words all the Elves in the hall cried aloud in grief and 
amazement. 

"These are evil tidings," Celeborn said, "the most evil that have been 
spoken here in long years full of grievous deeds." He turned to Haldir. 

"Why has nothing of this been told to me before?" 

"We have not spoken to Haldir of our deeds or our purpose," Legolas said. 
"At first we were weary and danger was too close behind; and afterwards 
we almost forgot our grief for a time, as we walked in gladness on the fair 
paths of Lorien." 

The Lady Galadriel knew of his conflicted mind, that he did not doubt. It 
could not be hidden by gilded words. 

//Laiqualassë, look to yourself for blame//, the soft voice of the Lady said 
inside his head. //Sometimes even our mirror image seems foreign, and in 
our blindness we do not recognize it. //
//
What is too alike should not be paired, for nothing good can come of it.// 

Legolas broke the eye contact, looking sideways at Haldir. The March 
warden met his gaze levelly, not a flicker of emotion on the strong 
features. 

//Nothing good can come of it.//

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

//Nothing good can come of it.//

The words fell heavy, and burned all the worse because they were true. 
Legolas was tempted to protest that all could not be his fault, yet realized 
that as soon as he had consented, at the very first "yes", the blame had 
been placed on him.

//"Do you trust me?"//

//"Yes."//

//"Do you have reason to?"//

Dimly, he heard Aragorn recount their journey from Imladris, and the 
sorrow he felt for Gandalf's passing mixed with the regret to tear at his 
heart. Evil was staying their journey, taking away what they so desperately 
depended upon, and at the gates of what he had thought to be a place of 
refuge, he was again deceived.

"An evil of the Ancient World it seemed, such as I have never seen 
before," Aragorn said. "It was both a shadow and a flame, strong and 
terrible."

"It was a Balrog of Morgoth," Legolas said, standing in to explain what 
the others could not, "of all Elf-banes the most deadly, save the One who 
sits in the Dark Tower."

He could not bring himself to explain more, for the fear returned, as did 
the anger over his cowardice. He had drawn his bow, and sought a target, 
ready to let fly a hail of arrows. Though it was a long shot, he would have 
succeeded, had not the fear taken hold of him and palsied his limbs. As 
soon as he had set eyes upon the swarming mass of Orcs, his fingers had 
clenched against his will, causing the arrow to fall to the ground. He had 
stood frozen, powerless to even stoop and retrieve it.

"But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. 
Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all," Galadriel said, her voice 
grave and steely.

//Have I set the Quest to dance upon the blade, or are there forces more 
sinister that will have us fail?//

Looking up, Legolas caught the gaze of the Lady again, and heard her 
voice, soft and yet stern.

//Nay, Legolas, it is not your fault alone that the Quest is threatened, yet 
your deeds, as those of your companions, all affect it.//

At length the Lady Galadriel ceased her scrutiny, and she smiled.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled," she said. "Tonight you shall sleep in 
peace."

Legolas heard the other members of the Fellowship sigh deeply, as though 
they now felt the true burden they were carrying.

"Go now!" Celeborn said, his voice carrying clearly in the lofty hall. "You 
are worn with sorrow and much toil. Even if your Quest did not concern 
us closely, you should have refuge in this City, until you were healed and 
refreshed. Now you shall rest, and we will not speak of your further road 
for a while."

//As we do not speak of the paths we have taken before this.//

Celeborn's gaze was less piercing than that of the Lady, yet it also held a 
question, as he looked first at Haldir, then at Legolas. Holding the gaze for 
a moment, Legolas fought to keep calm, then bent his head in respect, 
thankful for the code that for this moment at least had spared him further 
questioning.

Legolas found his tread both heavier and faster than was his wont as he 
hurried down the silvery steps of the talan.

"The sorrow weighs your feet, gwador. Were it not that I can see you, I 
would have thought you to be the firion who carries the horn."

Turning abruptly to look at the speaker, Legolas found himself face to face 
with one of the March Wardens. His brow furrowed. He had thought that 
Rumil had remained on the bank of Celebrant. Rumil offered Legolas no 
chance to ask him more of this, however, as he merely gave a smile and 
walked off. Giving a short shake of his head, Legolas stood waiting for the 
rest of the Fellowship to join him.

At the foot of one of the great trees ringing the fountain a pavilion was set 
up for the Fellowship. The canopy was made of silvery-white weave so 
sheer the moonlight illumined those within with the clarity of a lamp. Soft 
couches were furnished with warm covers, and a basin and ewers of clear 
water were brought so the travellers could wash the worst travel-grime off.

"Take your rest, cousin fair," the Elves said, "and tell your companions 
they have nothing to fear. May your dreams be peaceful."

They spoke for a while of their night in the treetops, and Legolas kept 
warily silent. If Aragorn or Boromir had made note of something, they did 
not reveal it. The Hobbits spoke of the Lord and Lady, seeming to be 
relieved to lay aside thoughts of sorrow for a while. The journey had been 
long and hard for them, Legolas thought, and not in the least for the grief 
they had been faced with.

"If you want to know, I felt as if I hadn't got nothing on, and I didn't like 
it," Sam said. "She seemed to be looking inside me and asking me what I 
would do if she gave me the chance of flying back home to the Shire to a 
nice little hole with... a bit of garden of my own."

"That's funny," Merry said. "Almost exactly what I felt myself; only, only 
well, I don't think I'll say any more."

"And it seemed to me, too," Gimli said, "that my choice would remain 
secret and known only to myself."

It was a hollow comfort to Legolas that all the others also seemed to have 
been scrutinized, for he had been given neither choice nor comfort, only 
rebuke.

Boromir did not seem fazed by the talk of the others, and he held his hand 
to his forehead as if his head pained him. He caught Legolas's glance as he 
looked up, and there seemed to be something uncertain and hunted behind 
the steely grey.

"I do not feel too sure of this Elvish Lady and her purposes," he said 
finally.

"Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel!" Aragorn said, his voice stern. "You 
know not what you say. There is in her and in this land no evil, unless a 
man brings it hither himself. Then let him beware!" 

//And yet you speak naught of the evil which already dwells here. Not all 
is fair in Lorien.//

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every leaf seemed gilded by the sunlight reflecting in the drops of rain. 
The air was slightly chill, like the chill in Legolas's mind and heart. What 
he had taken for comfort had been a hollow promise; the wisdom of ages 
he had counted on had fallen. 

The other members of the Fellowship queried him at times about the 
meaning of the laments sung, but Legolas found he could not bring 
himself to tell them. Sorrow and confusion weighed heavy, and the words 
of the Lady Galadriel were seared into his mind like a brand.

//Look to yourself for blame. //

As he turned left, he sighted one of the March Wardens who had met them 
on the borders. The slightest and youngest of the three – Rumil. The Elf 
was standing still as a statue, his pale-gold hair full of jewel-like droplets 
of rain, and the grey cloak he wore allowed him to blend in nigh perfectly. 
He chose not to acknowledge Legolas's presence directly, instead 
continuing to stand looking out into seeming nothingness.

"Mae govannen, gwador," Rumil said, his voice like sun-warmed honey, 
sending a guilty shiver down Legolas's spine. "I see you are enjoying the 
view."

"Yes, everything is so beautiful here," Legolas answered, forgetting the 
greeting, "there is a glow – it is like nothing I have seen before. Golden."

"This is the Golden Wood," Rumil noted, amusement colouring his voice.

//Ai, he thinks me a fool!// Legolas rebuked himself. 

"I know of that, gwador," he said.

"Does it dazzle your eyes so used to the dun of Mirkwood?"

"There is light and beauty in Mirkwood as well," Legolas protested.

"Oh, I know. I can see it."

Legolas's reply died silent on his lips as he considered the flippant 
comment. Rumil's face was set into a neutral mask, and his dark eyes were 
unreadable, the gaze burning.

A butterfly flitted into the space between the two Elves, veering this way 
and that before finally settling into Rumil's hair just above the point of his 
ear. Legolas fought to hide a smile at the unexpected daintiness the insect 
lent the border guard. Almost unawares, Legolas stretched his hand out, 
calling the butterfly to him. Rumil reached up, taking hold of Legolas's 
wrist, moving the hand away before it touched his hair. The strong fingers 
remained wrapped around his wrist, and Legolas could feel their pulses 
mingling in a soft cadence of beats.

A quick flicker of a smile from Rumil before he let go, fingertips 
purposefully trailing across the back of Legolas's hand. So unsettling that 
the gaze was the same deep grey as Haldir's. It held the same glimmer and 
the same promise.

Stepping back, Legolas clasped the hand Rumil had held, as though it 
carried a wound, then abruptly turned and walked away. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As heavier rain fell, the Galadhrim came bearing cloaks for the Fellowship 
to wear. Orophin and Rumil were both present, though Orophin did not 
address Legolas. Rumil, on the other hand, made a great show of assisting 
Legolas with the clasp, even though it was clear a child could have 
buckled it.

"It will keep you warm," Rumil said, ostensibly smoothing the grey fabric 
over Legolas's shoulders, "as warm as a mere garment can."

Legolas kept his features schooled into a carefully blank expression, 
bowing in courtesy and stepping back, out of Rumil's reach.

"I do not trust the Wardens," Gimli muttered as he walked away with 
Legolas.

"Why do you say that, friend Gimli?"

"Do not think malice goes unnoticed, Elven or not. I am not blind, nor am 
I foolish. Rumil is plotting, and you are the target."

Legolas tried to dismiss the claim, but found he did not believe his own 
words. Trailing his fingertips over the ragged surface of a tree trunk, he 
searched to form a polite phrase that would not give away his true 
thoughts.

"Do not speak ill of our hosts. The ways of Elves are far different from 
yours. I have no reason to believe that he would wish me ill."

"I did not say plotting ill, master Elf."

"Have care with what you say!"

"You speak as if the Dwarves know nothing of lust. It is true that the form 
is not the same as with my kin, yet it is there. Denying it will not lessen 
it."

//How much does Gimli know? And how harsh will his judgement be?//

"I --" Legolas said, then halted. He met Gimli's dark gaze, but the Dwarf 
did not press for an answer, and so they continued to walk in silence.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What are you doing, tithen-ernil?"

Legolas started, almost dropping the bow. He had not heard Rumil 
approach, and though he knew all of Laurelindorenan to be well guarded, 
he did not wish to fall to carelessness. 

Silk on silk, white-silver hair against grey Elvencloth. So arcane that the 
Rumil's hair would seem to draw its colour from the heavens, turning a 
mellow gold in the sun, and icy silver at the light of the stars. 

//Like Haldir's. //

There was an angry twinge at Legolas's heart at the thought of the 
squandered chance.

"Tending to my weapon, gwador," Legolas finally said, his voice clipped.

Casting a quick look around, Rumil bent close to the younger Elf, 
whispering to him.

"You will need a steady hand for such work. Yours is all but shaking. 
Why so?" he breathed, watching in obvious delight as Legolas shuddered 
at the sensation of warm breath against his sensitive skin. "Is it not so that 
the great archers are able to work even with distractions?"

Tracing the curve of the ear, Rumil gently lifted away the long braid lying 
over Legolas's shoulder, then continued: "Do not think you can fool me, 
tithen-ernil. I know the tricks and habits of your kin. I know your play 
with hearts."

"What is it that leads you to think such things of me, Rumil?"

"The chance to see high colour on your face, to break the calm of this 
impetuous princeling," Rumil said, sliding his arm around Legolas's waist. 
"It would be wise not to voice one's passions so loudly."

"I do no such thing," Legolas protested lamely.

"Yes," Rumil chuckled, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to Legolas's 
ear, "you do."

Legolas twitched at the touch of the soft lips against his ear, and as Rumil 
nipped lightly at the lobe, he gasped, betraying the calm.

"The things you say are of the kind meant for a lover's ears only. You 
should be thankful the others are less sharp of hearing."

Rumil's hand, still splayed over the flank of the younger Elf, tightened its 
grip, forcing Legolas to turn in the cramped embrace.

Face inches from Rumil's, Legolas bravely met the level grey gaze of the 
Warden. The ageless face was calm and beautiful, but there was a 
tempting smile playing at the corners of Rumil's mouth.

For Legolas, it was the easiest of distractions. Rumil was far bolder than 
Haldir had been, and Legolas reasoned it would mean he was also less 
duplicitous.

//And less cold. //

Both leaned in at the same time, tilting their heads to the side as though 
performing an intricate dance. Rumil's mouth was heated, sweet in its 
twisted desire, and Legolas eagerly responded to the kiss before realizing 
the message his reciprocation would send. Leaning his head back and to 
the side, he broke the kiss.

"You have had your kiss, now release me," he said, undoing Rumil's grip 
on his waist.

"What now?" Rumil queried. "Does the prince step back before such 
innocent pleasures? Or is it that I do not please you?"

Not trepidation in that tone, but defiance and desire.

"Mayhap you find others more attractive. Is it that you do not wish to see 
those you pair with?" Rumil went on.

"I have no need for your insults, Rumil." 

"It is strange you should be so reluctant now, Laiquendi. Perhaps I should 
blindfold you as my brother did. Perhaps then you would yield."

"What leads you to think such things?" Legolas tried, feigning lack of 
knowledge, but knowing his voice would easily betray his thoughts. //He 
knows, and he will not relent unless I confess.//

"Oh, have no fear, he did not tell me... but the night has a thousand eyes."

The insinuation struck hard and icy, Rumil's challenge glimmering in the 
grey eyes. 

"All things are not what they seem when they are drowned in shadow," 
Legolas finally said.

"As lust is not to be confused with love?" Rumil spat. "That a simple tryst 
is only to be taken at face value, and as a simple diversion?"

"Do not play with words. Speak freely of what you mean."

"Then I shall ask the same courtesy of you. Tell me what you have done," 
Rumil pressed.

"I do not need to answer to you. My deeds are my own."

"As are the consequences. Tell me, prince, would you take me if I offered 
myself? Or would you let yourself be taken?"

The shame burned. Rumil could not possibly know what had happened; 
yet Legolas knew the blush on his face would tell what his words did not. 
He turned his face away, despairingly looking at the sky and the trees 
around them.

"What right do you have to ask me this? To accuse me in such a manner?"

"I would not ask if I did not house suspicion," Rumil said, his voice cold. 
"Trust is rare in times like these."

"I might better be able to answer your inquiry if I knew what you are 
accusing me of," Legolas said, hoping to end the game.

"You know of what I speak," Rumil hissed. "How will you make 
amends?"

"I owe neither apology nor amends!"

There was a brief spark of rage in Rumil's eyes, and his mouth twisted into 
the beginning of a snarl. Keeping silent, he gave a sardonic salute before 
striding away and leaving Legolas to his bitter thoughts.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next night, Legolas sat with the rest of the Fellowship, thinking Rumil 
would not seek him out if he were in the company of the others.

His assumption turned out to be false. Rumil, accompanied by an Elf 
Legolas did not recognise, approached them at nightfall, carrying cordial 
and chalices, bidding them to drink with them, saying he wished to know 
more of "this band of foreign folk". 

Rumil's Westron was stilted, yet the Hobbits eagerly listened and asked 
questions as he spoke of his rare journeys outside the borders of Lorien. At 
Aragorn's reprimand, they did not say much of their own journey or of its 
purpose.

The cordial was a pale golden hue, fragrant with herbs Legolas did not 
recognise. The taste was cold and clear, a blessed respite from the stagnant 
water they had drunk on their journey. Legolas wandered away from the 
others, fingers still curled around the slender chalice. The sounds of the 
night seemed more clear to him, and he closed his eyes, letting the trees 
and the stars sing to him. He would try to forget all that had passed in 
favour of a moment's rest. Varda would soothe her child. Leaning against 
the wide bole of a mallorn, he let his thoughts drift.

His reverie was interrupted by footfalls so soft they would have gone 
undetected by all save Eldar. As Rumil stole up beside him, laying his arm 
around Legolas's shoulders in an easy and yet unpleasantly intimate 
gesture, Legolas let him. He had no mood to begin another debate, and 
reasoned that if he did not fight, Rumil would lose interest.

He cursed the part that felt elation at Rumil's gesture. It would lead to ill, 
he knew it all too well, and yet it felt so joyous to be among Eldar again, 
with the Galadhrim both fair and wise. He was torn between extremes.

To confront Haldir again would be folly, and yet to refrain from doing so 
would surely make matters worse. There was something to Rumil's 
vehemence over Legolas's deeds that spoke of a close bond of kin, and to 
be faced with the ire of two, or perhaps even three, would surely snarl him 
into a net of guilt. Rarely had he felt such shame as when he considered 
his deeds. He had freely fallen into the embrace of the first to make an 
invitation, without thought as to the consequences. 

//Yet surely the blame cannot be all mine? It was not I who turned away.//

"So beautiful," Rumil murmured, his voice sounding strange to Legolas's 
ears. Legolas twisted in Rumil's grip, hooking an arm around the older 
Elf's neck.

A drop of the amber cordial still glimmered on Rumil's full lower lip, and 
Legolas was transfixed by the way it refracted the light.

The space of a breath, and he pressed his mouth to Rumil's, sliding his 
tongue between the lightly parted lips.

Softness and warmth in the kiss, and the comfortably tight grip Rumil's 
arms held him in was familiar and steady. The taste of the herbs in the 
cordial melded with the tang of Rumil's mouth on his. The kiss grew deep, 
tongues twining fiercely until the air was spent and they both broke away. 
A blush rode high on Legolas's cheeks, but Rumil seemed unruffled.

"Yes, beautiful indeed," Rumil said, smoothing a wide strand of hair out 
of Legolas's face, " and all the more fair when he loses his inhibitions."

"Are you making an invitation, Rumil?" Legolas asked, drawing out the 
name. Rumil's hair, spilling onto Legolas's shoulder, was a soft smudge of 
gold, and Legolas reached up to twine his fingers into the silken strands.

"Does it appear so to you?" Rumil retorted, pushing Legolas back against 
the bole of the tree. "No," he said, laying a kiss to the side of Legolas's 
neck, "I am not."

Rumil set his teeth to the soft lobe of Legolas's ear, only testing the flesh. 
"I know you prefer the comfort of warriors, tithen-ernil, the pleasures only 
those alike in body can provide." His hands slid nimbly in under Legolas's 
shirt, stroking against the skin in teasing circles, and Legolas pushed 
instinctively against the touch and against the hard body pinning him to 
the bole of the wide tree.

He closed his eyes, and as soon as he did so, Rumil let go, stepping back. 
Giving a surprised little sound in the back of his throat, Legolas 
straightened up.

"It is as I thought, then," Rumil mused. "You care not to see."

Before Legolas had a chance to reply, Rumil walked away, his tread 
leisurely and slow enough for Legolas to catch up. Breathing deeply, 
Legolas stayed where he stood, watching Rumil's retreating form vanish 
into the shadows.

Sinking down to sit on the ground, settling to lean his back against a stone, 
Legolas stared up at the canopy of inky sky and cold stars, starting as a 
hand was laid on his shoulder.

"What is it, Legolas?" Gimli inquired, picking a piece of bark out of 
Legolas's tangled hair. "It is not your wont to be in such disarray." The 
words were meant in jest, but Legolas sighed and turned to the Dwarf.

"'Tis nothing, friend Dwarf, merely the evidence of a lost temper. The 
fault is but my own."

Gimli squeezed his hands into fists, his ire plain on the grizzled features. 
His entire posture told that he was ready to strike out.

"'Twas the youngest March Warden, was it not? I told you he was 
plotting."

A sad smile curved Legolas's lips for a brief instant, and he clasped 
Gimli's hand.

"Do not seek to hurt him, for he is one of the Galadhrim. He is one of our 
hosts, and a petty grope does not grant right to injure."

"Petty, indeed," Gimli scoffed, "your clothing is in disarray. It is not what 
I call petty." 

His hands, seeming clumsy, flatly contradicted their looks and nimbly 
buttoned up the opened fastenings on Legolas's tunic. The Elf held his 
breath in fear-mixed wait, but Gimli merely smoothed out the fabric and 
tucked a stray strand of golden hair behind a pointed ear. There was a rare 
grace in the movements, and Legolas squeezed Gimli's hand, relishing in 
the solidity of it.

"Thank you, Gimli."

"There is something you are not telling me."

Legolas winced at the far too accurate statement.

"I do not wish to burden you with troubles that are solely my own doing."

Gimli watched the silver lamps suspended over their heads, counting the 
stars above them.

"From what I know of troubles, they are seldom to be blamed on only one 
part of the strife."

"That is of little help," Legolas sighed. "I do not know which part is my 
fault and which is not, and yet it is as though he places too large a part of 
the blame on me."

As soon as he had spoken, he realized that he inadvertently had revealed 
more than he had intended.

"Without knowing the identity of this other part, I shall dare to say that 
you are both as stubborn," Gimli said, but the voice held very little jest. 
"This looks to be a conflict long in solving."

Legolas chose not to answer, instead letting his thoughts drift into the 
silence that fell. Gimli's presence was no longer a distraction but a 
comfort, yet the waking dreams that had always given Legolas peace of 
mind seemed elusive still, only pale echoes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You have walked too long in the company of Men, Legolas," a teasing 
voice informed. "You stomp."

Looking up, Legolas easily spotted Rumil standing on a talan, the newly 
risen moon dappling him in silver-white light. Leaping gracefully, Legolas 
grasped the wide branches, delighting in the ease with which he found he 
could climb.

"It is fortunate you at least know how to climb trees, gwador," Rumil 
continued as Legolas heaved himself up onto the talan.

"What is the purpose of this game?" Legolas snapped, determined to find 
answers. "What do you hope to gain by your incessant mockery?"

"I am not like my brother, and yet I understand what he must feel. Tell me, 
is it your wont to discard your lovers?"

Legolas's mind raced. //He thinks it is I who is to blame for all. He does 
not know all that happened.//

"Whatever I have said you have chosen not to believe. I do not place much 
faith in that you will believe my words this time, yet I will say it again: I 
did not leave him. If anything, I would have wished him to stay, yet he 
rudely pushed me away, as though it had all been a mere dalliance."

Rumil was visibly shaken, yet quickly composed himself.

"Forgive me," he said, sitting down on the talan. He shook his head 
slowly, as if debating with himself, and Legolas knelt next to him, 
surprised at the change in Rumil's demeanour. Surely it could not have 
been that great a surprise?

Legolas chose not to reply, and Rumil lifted his hand to cup Legolas's jaw, 
fingers tracing the arch of a cheekbone, the line of the jaw, and finally the 
thumb drawing along the lower lip. Legolas saw now how alike Rumil and 
Haldir were, yet there was a sharpness to Rumil's features. There was no 
denying he felt attracted to Rumil, despite the insults and accusations he 
had withstood from him.

He felt further guilt at the thought, infidelity in thought - and guilt for 
pursuing the brother of his failed wooing, as though he would take anyone 
bearing resemblance to the one lost. Was it indeed so? Was that the reason 
he accepted Rumil's invitation? Did he hope it would carry an echo?

Closing the gap between them, both leaning in at the same time, they 
kissed slowly. Rumil's arms wrapped around Legolas, holding him close. 
The kiss turned deeper, tongues meeting and twining, the silence only 
broken by small gasps for air. 

Rumil's smooth hands undid the catches of Legolas's tunic, surreptitiously 
sliding his hands inside. As long fingers brushed a nipple, Legolas gave a 
harsh groan. 

Legolas's fumbling hands fought a losing battle with the silver clasps of 
Rumil's cloak. Then, exasperated, Legolas simply shoved Rumil onto his 
back. The blonde head snapped back, the silvery tresses spilling over the 
floor of the talan. Legolas finally regained his dexterity and managed to 
open the light silvery shirt Rumil was wearing without tearing the delicate 
material.

Smooth, alabaster-pale skin under his hands, two stains of misty rose on 
the heaving chest. Bending close, Legolas traced the nipples with his 
tongue, tasting and sucking gently. Rumil arched up, his hands tangling in 
Legolas's hair. 

Hips thrusting, grinding, and both moaned at the sensation. Stripping his 
tunic and undershirt off, Legolas pressed close, skin against skin, and 
Rumil was almost hot to the touch. The night air whispered over his bare 
back, a soft caress of leaf-scented breeze. Rumil's hands pulled his head 
close, down into a searing, deep kiss.

"Legolas..." Rumil whispered. Reaching down into the narrow space 
between their bodies, Legolas cupped his hand to Rumil's groin, feeling 
the insistent pulse. Stroke and gauge, and he slid his hand inside, giving a 
small, self-satisfied smile as Rumil bucked against his touch. 

Familiar and yet alien, silk over steel. One hand stroking, Legolas used the 
other to undo the laces of Rumil's dark grey leggings. His hand was pale 
against the rose hue of the sex, the curls under his knuckles a mellow gold. 
Rumil's head was thrown back, the pale column of his throat exposed, and 
Legolas wanted to taste, to bite and mark the elder Elf.

He kept on stroking, then leaned in, taking the tip of the shaft into his 
mouth. Taste of salt, and of the crisp scent of forest, and he let his tongue 
play along the curves.

Half-choked words in some Elvish dialect from Rumil, words of far less 
dignity. Pale hands clenched and unclenched, knuckles rattling against the 
silvery boards of the talan. 

Lifting his head, earning an angry hiss from Rumil, Legolas moved up to 
press a kiss to the hollow of Rumil's neck. Nimble hands undid the catch 
of his leggings, long fingers wrapping around his erection, and now was 
his turn to moan. 

Rumil's hand loosened its grip, travelling over the arch of Legolas's hip to 
grasp his buttocks. Their erections met, sensitive underside to sensitive 
underside, and Legolas took a firm grasp, beginning to stroke. Mewls from 
Rumil, high-pitched sounds of pleasure, as he bucked and twisted. The 
kisses were rough, barely time to breathe. 

Drawing a deep breath, Legolas moved back, fisting his own cock, coating 
it with the pearlescent fluid leaking from the head. The lightest nudge to 
make Rumil's knees fall apart, and Legolas took hold of one muscular calf, 
placing it on his shoulder. The space of a breath, and he thrust in, to the 
hilt, into the yielding heat.

A long, shuddering moan from Rumil at the invasion, and he arched, 
biting his lip as his eyelids fluttered closed. 

"Look at me. Look at me!" Legolas commanded, holding Rumil's head in 
his hands, fingers tangled into the long hair. Rumil stared back, wide-
eyed, then tried to close his eyes. Legolas's grip tightened, and Rumil gave 
a small pained moan, but obeyed, locking eyes with Legolas.

Was this what Haldir had looked like? Had the clear grey gaze been 
muddled with passion, deepening to near blue like Rumil's was now?

In spite of himself, Legolas found himself even more aroused by the 
memory of Haldir's touches, at the same time more gentle and more rough 
than Rumil's.

As the climax neared, Legolas buried his head in Rumil's neck, licking at 
the skin, tasting salt and sweetness and that which was Elves alone.

One last thrust, and they both fell over the edge. Legolas bit down, hard, 
and clamped his hand over Rumil's mouth to muffle the scream. Rumil, 
twisting in agonized release, had his head bent back as he stared at 
seeming nothingness. For Legolas, the stars fell out of their tracks, 
blending into a rush of silver for each convulsion. He squeezed his eyes 
shut tightly, wincing at the regret that rose immediate and unbidden when 
he was at his weakest.

Rumil stilled, then suddenly twisted out of Legolas's grip, kneeling up and 
turning away.

"Go now," he said, his voice tense with anger. "Go." His back shook, and 
Legolas could not tell if it was from the cold or the shame. Rumil's hair 
hung like a tangled curtain in front of his face, and he still kneeled, 
hunched over, not making a move. As Legolas picked up Rumil's cloak to 
lay it over his shoulders, Rumil snatched the garment from him and 
shoved Legolas back.

Legolas's hands felt like ice when he quickly dressed himself, buttoning 
up his tunic wrongly in his haste. Rumil scarcely moved, save to pull his 
tunic on. He did not look at Legolas, but kept his back turned.

Rumil's sudden change in mood had baffled Legolas. All had seemed to be 
well, and he had lost himself in the moment, thinking he would not repeat 
his earlier mistake. And yet he had. Rumil drew away from him, angered 
over something Legolas could not see. No, that was false, he realized. It 
was not a matter of him not seeing; it was he not wishing to see.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legolas strode between the trees, seeking to put as much distance as he 
could between himself and Rumil, wanting to wipe the foul taste of regret 
from his mouth. He had failed, fallen to such base deeds. The tranquillity 
of Lorien seemed to mock him. 

He had no one to blame but himself.

//Look to yourself for blame.//

"Couplings should not be made in haste or in anger, Legolas," Gimli said, 
looking up at the tall Elf, "for that will bring naught but sorrow."

"I -- " Legolas tried, then sighed and sat down on a gnarled tree root. "I did 
not know what I wanted. I still do not."

"Haldir hurt you. And you wished to repay the deed, but did not find him, 
and so you lashed out at the next who invited you."

"I did not ask you to pry!"

Gimli held his hands up as Legolas stood up and began to stride back and 
forth in the small clearing.

"Why does it seem all others withhold from me things I should know? Do 
all of you spy on me?"

"Friend Legolas, sit down. Your striding is unnerving me." Gimli settled 
back, looking Legolas square in the eyes, then continued: "You should not 
let your feelings drive you so. I know little of Elves, yet thus much have I 
gleaned: bonds not made for life will fade, like ice in the rays of the sun. 
Did you not realize this?"

Legolas broke the gaze, shaking his head angrily.

"You make it sound as though I give myself to all around me!"

"Rethink the past days, friend Elf. Twice have you shared yourself, and 
with only the slightest prompting."

"I do not need this! Insult heaped upon insult – and what would a Dwarf 
know of this? What?"

"Of this - perhaps nothing. Of insults - you will do well in noting when an 
insult is made to anger, and when it is made to glean knowledge. I told 
you before that Rumil was plotting, and you did not believe me. I do not 
wish to flaunt your failure, yet I hope you will now see the error of your 
ways."

//Oh, I see them. All too well do I see them.//

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

//All too well do I see them.//

The mistakes irked and mocked Legolas as much as the chill he felt did. It 
was a hollow blessing that he had seen neither Haldir nor Rumil since they 
had parted ways on their less than favourable terms. Still, it seemed as 
though ill news travelled faster than the wind, as all other Elves he had 
met on his way had regarded him with cool disdain. Looking down, he 
noted the haphazardly closed clasps of his tunic, and began opening and 
correcting them, his fingers still feeling numb. 

"Yet what would he plot? I ended his game - I foiled it! He cannot still be 
plotting," Legolas said, raising his gaze to look at Gimli.

"A simple defeat will not deter him. He will persist." Gimli nodded 
slightly, his dark eyes serious. Something in his composure made Legolas 
irritated despite the obvious truth of his words, and he straightened up.

"I do not hold much to the way in which you speak of my kin. Yes, they 
have tricked, yet that I may forgive. I do not slander all Dwarves when I 
hold a grudge to you," he said, wondering at how his voice seemed to lack 
spite. There was, in truth, anger coursing through his veins, anger and a 
jarring discord brought on by the multiple betrayals. Yet, he felt 
powerless, even reluctant, to do anything. It was as though he did not want 
to believe a place as fair as Lothlorien could hold so much hidden malice.

"Were you older, you would see, friend Legolas. You cannot trust all those 
who are like you." Gimli paused, a strange look flickering for a fraction of 
a second over the worn features. "Words may be gilded. You know this."

"Those are worn-out words, Gimli. I am no child, nor a fool. I have seen 
my measure of deceit," Legolas said, angered at how Gimli dismissed him 
as half-grown. All through the journey, his companions seemed to judge 
him on his appearance, treating him like a mere youth. And here, among 
his kin, he was likewise dismissed.

"Yet you have not learned from it. You fall for old schemes." Inclining his 
head, Gimli rose and walked away. Listening to the heavy tread fade 
away, Legolas rested his head in his hands. He would find no rest this 
night, for the words of the Lady rose now to the surface of his thoughts, 
disturbing him further.

//Nay, Legolas, it is not your fault alone that the Quest is threatened, yet 
your deeds, as those of your companions, all affect it.//

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On his way through Caras Galadhon, Haldir found his mind erring onto 
paths he felt wrong to take. He had been avoiding the Fellowship, partly 
because he had been hindered by duty, but also because he did not wish to 
face Legolas again. Thinking of his deeds only seemed to worsen the guilt, 
and the memories sharpened further as he tried to put them out of his 
mind. It had not been lust alone that had driven him to seduce the prince, 
nor had it been a wish to see how far he could lead the younger Elf. There 
was something more sinister to it all, and before he lay bare the reason, he 
would find no rest.

Yet, he asked himself, how could two so conflicting wishes - one to see 
what the guilt was, and another to forget it all - both lead him to the same 
end, an end that was confusing and wrong?

//Why does my mind err to thinking about Rumil? He has had no part in 
this.//

"Haldir?" Rumil's voice alerted him to look up. "You are deep in thought 
indeed not to notice me." The younger Elf smiled. "Whatever is troubling 
you, I suggest you lay it to rest as you guard, lest it clouds your eyes."

"It is nothing," Haldir hastily said, stepping around his brother, eager to be 
on his way. There was a note of urgency in his voice, of haste he did not 
have and of worry he did not wish to voice, and he saw Rumil's brow 
furrow in wonder.

"Is all well with you, brother?" Rumil asked, tilting his head. "You are 
discontent with something. Did the prince refuse your advances?" he 
teased, another smile lighting his features. The smile quickly faded as 
Haldir kept silent, and the look was soon replaced with one of worry. 

"Brother?" Rumil tried, and Haldir found he had no answer. Quickly 
turning, he strode away, ashamed for once again fleeing his troubles. He 
knew well enough Rumil would respect his wish not to speak, and yet he 
felt pained for leaving. He was running like a coward, thinking he could 
end his troubles simply by putting distance between himself and those he 
did not wish to face.

//You are a coward,// he rebuked himself as he walked the shaded path to 
his guard post. //You cannot flee forever.//

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elves were not blind in the darkness like Men were. Haldir could well see 
Orophin, yet he thought it was because Orophin was not making an effort 
to shield himself.

Haldir turned his head, meeting Orophin's gaze for an agonizingly long 
moment, then closed his eyes.

"You should not scout when you are not on duty, brother," he said, leaning 
his head into his hands briefly, raking his hair back.

"When have you ever rebuked me for guarding?" Orophin asked, keeping 
his distance.

"This rebuke is but spared for the times when you do not guard out of duty 
on the telain of the borderlands. Keen are your eyes to see unrest that 
means war, but blind to the subtler strife." Haldir shook his head slowly, 
as though he was trying to shake an unpleasant image. "Blind to what 
gnaws at the spirit."

"That is why I came to talk to you," Orophin said, relaxing his stance 
slightly. "I know something is amiss. I wish you would tell me what it is, 
so that I will not have to cull out from hearsay what eats at you. 
Something is very ill."

Haldir did not reply, and kept his head down, avoiding Orophin's gaze. He 
did not fidget, nor rise to protests, and that stillness aroused more fear in 
Orophin than outright denial would have. Stepping close, then crouching 
down next to his brother, Orophin laid his hand lightly on Haldir's 
shoulder.

"I have my suspicions of what this secret is, yet I wish to hear it from you 
and not have it twisted by travel." He paused, seeking to arrange his next 
words into an order that would not offend or startle. "I know you love 
Rumil. Indeed, it would be alarming if you did not -- but that love would 
do well in staying within what is proper for those who are kin. It --" he 
faltered, seeking words anew, "is not proper. Yet, I know I cannot hinder 
what is destined. I can only offer warning."

Haldir abruptly turned, dislodging Orophin's hold. Panic flickered in his 
gaze as he rose to his feet quickly.

"I know not what you are talking about."

"Brother, do not lie to me. I have known you for all your life, and I know 
when you are not speaking the full truth," Orophin said, rising and settling 
his hand on Haldir's shoulder to keep him in place.

"You know me too well," Haldir finally said, standing still and meeting 
Orophin's gaze levelly. There was a long moment of silence between the 
brothers, and Orophin did not press Haldir for answers. The slow 
realization had been an alarming surprise for him as well; an uncoiling of 
a secret he felt was far too arcane to even exist. It had been hundreds of 
years since the last couple too close of kin had been known, and that affair 
had ended in misery for both parts. Yet he knew that hindering the 
progression of love would likely cause both of his brothers to fall into 
despair. And if they died... he did not even wish to finish the thought. It 
was a cruel fate that Elves could be slain by a broken heart as easily as 
with the hard steel of a blade.

"I did not wish for this to happen," Haldir said suddenly. "I did not wish 
for any of this. Neither for the mistake I made of seeking out the prince, 
nor for..." He looked away, closing his eyes as if the very forming of the 
words hurt him. "Nor for lusting after my own brother." There was another 
long silence, but Orophin waited it out patiently. "I do not think I can ever 
tell him," Haldir went on. "I would never wish this same pain on him. 
Rather I suffer than his mind be burdened with my madness."

"I do not want both of you to suffer," Orophin interrupted. "You must tell 
him. He will sense you are troubled by his presence."

Haldir gave a short and bitter laugh, shaking his head.

"He has sensed it already. If my ill luck is as malicious as I think it to be, 
he already knows how base my thoughts are." Grasping Orophin's hand, 
Haldir broke the hold and turned to leave. "Keep my words to yourself, 
brother. I have caught myself in this net, and it is my place alone to find a 
solution."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Footfalls, soft but loud enough to be clearly heard, startled Legolas out of 
his reverie. Orophin stopped at a respectful distance, even giving a slight 
bow.

"My prince--"

"I will guess your intent," Legolas interrupted, not caring to polish off the 
venom in his voice. " You come to talk, do you not? You wish only to 
trade words -- or that you will have me think, until the moment you take or 
offer. Not words but bodies." He lifted his gaze, sizing up the grey-clad 
Warden in front of him.

"You flatter me, Legolas," Orophin laughed. "I have a beloved. I do not 
need to seek comfort in travellers passing." He lifted his right hand, letting 
the light glitter briefly on a slender golden ring gracing his index finger.

"Forgive me," Legolas demurred, feeling his face heat. "I--"

"You expected as much from me, judging me by the conduct of my 
brothers. I do not hold you to blame for it. Two out of three is a majority, 
after all."

Orophin had ceased smiling, though his words still sounded like jest. His 
face was grave as he laid his hand on Legolas's shoulder, ignoring the 
nervous twitch.

"They are my brothers. I can deny them nothing; only try to stave their 
urges. We seldom see travellers, even those who are Elf-kind, and 
unfortunately my brothers are forever trying the borders of propriety. 
However, I have come to understand that not all is their doing."

"I will admit my guilt," Legolas said, intending to lay the game bare and 
end the nagging shame.

"Legolas, you misunderstand me," Orophin said, a shadow of sadness 
passing over his face like a veil. "I do not hold you guilty in the manner 
you think. It is far more complicated than so. Come walk with me. This is 
not a matter to be discussed where unwelcome ears can pry."

The song that lingered in the woods seemed to fade, dispersing like mist as 
the two Elves walked further into the forest, their tread soundless on the 
mat of leaves. The cadences turned wan, the words vague now and not 
easily interpreted.

"I would not divulge this if I did not think you would be able to help. I 
cannot say if Haldir or Rumil feels penance, yet I know what has driven 
Haldir to this. I fear you became nothing but an unlucky pawn in his 
game."

"Do not speak in riddles," Legolas implored.

"No doubt you feel Haldir more than Rumil has overstepped the borders of 
propriety. He has a reason, yet I hesitate to call it noble or even valid." 
Orophin's brow furrowed. "Though it may not seem so at first, these deeds 
were done out of love."

"I find that manner of love exceedingly strange," Legolas said, eliciting a 
pained smile from Orophin.

"So will most. It is not mere fraternal love."

Legolas mulled over the words, turning them over in his mind as he tried 
to understand what Orophin had meant. Clearly the words were only a 
polished way of delivering a more sinister message. 

"You need not choose your words so carefully," he said. "Tell me 
outright."

"Haldir loves Rumil as more than a brother," Orophin said, finally.

The final realisation hit Legolas like a shock of cold water.// Not mere 
fraternal love.// It was nothing like he had thought, and indeed now that he 
had been made aware of the state of things, he wished nothing more than 
to be excluded from it.

"But... it is not natural," he got out. "They are kin!"

"I did not expect you to understand," Orophin said, his face sad and noble. 
"Perhaps it has been foolish of me to think you will aid me. Yet I have told 
you this so that you will not go forth from the Golden Wood in anger. 
Wrath does not benefit a wayfarer on a mission such as yours."

As Legolas turned, intending to walk away, Orophin lowered his voice a 
step.

"Do you know the truth of why Haldir took you blindfolded?"

"It-- he was under order not to let us see..." Legolas stammered, stopping 
mid-step. To him, at least, it was the truth, as he had perceived it. As he 
wished to perceive it.

"He did not wish to see who it truly was."

The words cut Legolas more keenly than any blade. Orophin's face was 
calm, the dark eyes fixed on Legolas.

"Why do you tell me this?" Legolas forced out, the words bitter on his 
tongue.

"To make you see. You are caught in the middle." Orophin's gaze was 
steely.

"And pray tell then, Orophin - what is your part in this? You spy, this has 
become clear, skulk in the shadows to gather knowledge you are not 
rightfully entitled to have. You claim it is out of caring for your brothers, 
yet I wonder how much is for your enjoyment in later moments."

"You speak the bitter with honeyed tongue, princeling," Orophin said, his 
voice nearly shaking with anger, "and you are skilled at it. Yet your 
venom is false, and ill-advised. Have you not kin for whom you would do 
the same? Would you let your companions, nay, your siblings fall into 
dark despair when the solution is near at hand? It seems Thranduil has 
indeed raised a fool, and so Elrond's choice was an ill one. You are not 
suited to bear the responsibility."

More sharp words burned on Legolas's tongue, yet he bit back on them. 
Orophin was facing him calmly, without intention to strike, and for a 
moment, Legolas felt as though he might be raising his hand against both 
Haldir and Rumil were he to go against Orophin, so great was the likeness.

"Let us end this bickering," he said at length. "It is fruitless. Tell me what I 
must do and I will do it, if for no other reason than to prove to you that I 
am worth my word and no fool."

Orophin looked visibly relieved, relaxing slightly where he stood. 

"Then forgive my harsh words. I spoke out of the trouble of my own heart. 
All I would have you do is speak to Haldir, make him see that neither he 
nor you are to blame for what befell. He blames himself, for his mind is 
conflicted. I can sense it, for our bond is as close as that of brothers is apt 
to be."

"I would have him see that," Legolas confirmed, "for as much as he 
offered, I accepted, and as much as I yielded, he took. We are, then, both 
and neither to blame. It would seem I mistook his directness for honesty."

Orophin clasped Legolas's shoulders, and rested his forehead against 
Legolas's for a short moment.

"Thank you, cousin. I shall be in your debt."

As Legolas looked into Orophin's dark eyes, he smiled sadly. The elder 
Elf gave short nod before leaving, heading in the direction of the great 
gates out of the City.

Legolas found himself admiring Orophin's resolve. He had taken it upon 
himself to clear up the troubles Haldir had caused both himself and 
Legolas, all out of care for his younger sibling. //All out of care//-- and the 
step between care and love was very short, Legolas realized. He had 
indeed been nothing but a pawn in a twisted game, a game of bitter love. 
Haldir's chill, and Rumil's venomous words, both affairs ending in nothing 
but a numbing emptiness -- he realized he was truly caught in the middle. 
Rumil had not been merely protective, he had been jealous.

Rising, Legolas decided he would have to seek out Haldir and tell him 
what he had realized. Better that he himself take the brunt of the ire than 
that the brothers become estranged. Their relation was too close, that was 
true, yet a smaller worry than deep discord between kin.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was night-time, and the shadows grew deep at the feet of the mallorn-
trees, untouched by the moonlight dappling the forest. Haldir held guard, 
walking his usual round, stopping now and then to listen for any sounds 
that might give away the presence of Orcs or other foul creatures. Ill had 
been present since the Fellowship had crossed the borders of the Golden 
Wood, and to him it seemed the peril grew deeper each night they lingered 
in Laurelindorenan. 

Nigh-silent footfalls nearby, their rhythm unfamiliar, made Haldir tense 
up, his fingers seeking the nock of an arrow. The wanderer was Elf-kind, 
thus much he could tell, and not one of the Wardens. Legolas. The 
woodland prince.

As he had predicted, Legolas came walking between the trees, dressed in 
the silvery garments of Laurelindorenan, and lacking his bow.

"You should not wander alone on the borderlands at night, young one," 
Haldir said, letting go of the arrow he had grasped, letting it slide back 
into the quiver at his side. "There are sinister creatures afoot."

"You come unarmed," Haldir noted, unsure of Legolas's motive. He felt 
cornered, as a small animal might when surrounded by foxes and wolves. 
The trees whispered ill as he passed, and it seemed his vision was clouded.

"I do not come to wage battle, neither with arrows nor words, Haldir. I 
come to ask forgiveness in part, and to hear your repentance. We are both 
to blame."

"Orophin laid those words in your mouth," Haldir spat, turning away from 
Legolas. His fingers closed tightly on the grip of his bow, clenching once, 
paling the knuckles for a brief instant. "Too well do I know the tone of his 
speech and the manner of his wisdom. You are, truly, easily swayed."

"If you would but listen to me, Haldir, then you would grow to understand 
the prudence of them. I do not hold myself to be blameless in this, yet 
neither are you. That is not all there is to it, however," Legolas's voice 
grew softer. "Whose face did you imagine you saw when you lay with 
me?"

"What are you saying?" Haldir asked, hearing his voice come out a mere 
echo and whisper.

"Those I will admit were the words of your brother, yet since I also in part 
was misled, I feel it is just for me to ask." There was a seeming confidence 
in Legolas's words, yet Haldir grimly noted that the younger Elf's voice 
would start shaking were he to say anything more.

"I do not understand your question. I do not idly imagine the faces of those 
I share my body with to change."

"Yet you did," Legolas pressed. "Why else would you have shunned me?"

"You think highly of your prowess, prince," Haldir said, his voice 
hardened to steel now, cold and clipped.

Legolas drew a deep breath at the insult, holding back the retort he 
obviously wished to voice. Taking a tentative step forward, Legolas 
stopped as he saw Haldir tighten the grip on his bow further. Haldir felt 
coiled to strike, strung far too tight, and feared he might come apart at any 
second.

"It was your younger brother, was it not? Rumil."

Haldir closed his eyes, feeling as though a fist of ice had closed around his 
heart. The prince knew. All was lost now. How was it that thoughts he 
himself had thought to be too foul now seemed common knowledge? His 
brother should not have divulged Haldir's confession -- and yet the prince 
was telling him Orophin had indeed done so.

"I have no need for your accusations," Haldir said, finding no other words. 
"I have nothing to report to you."

"I am not asking you to report to me," Legolas said. " Nor am I as blind as 
you think me to be. Strangers may see more than kin does, and I have seen 
both sides of this strife. Talk to Rumil. You are so occupied with pitying 
yourself that you fail to see his troubles."

Turning away from Legolas, Haldir stayed still, neither speaking nor 
moving. After a moment, he could hear Legolas turning and walking 
away, the tread light enough to be nigh soundless. He did not know where 
Legolas was headed, and he did not intend to follow him. If the Woodland 
prince were wise enough, he would let the matter lie and not pursue it 
further. Yet his words sparked a strange flutter of hope. Forbidden hope, 
hope that Rumil would harbour the same feelings. Haldir shook his head.

//No. Surely it cannot be that way. Both of us cannot be as mad --and still I 
hope for it to be so.//

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legolas rebuked himself for his own tactlessness as he strode away. So 
many other ways in which he could have asked. 

Haldir's face had been drawn, a look midway between resignation and 
indignation, it seemed. He had met Legolas's gaze calmly, yet to Legolas it 
seemed more like that of a warrior squaring up his rival before a battle. So 
hard to believe that not even a month had passed since Haldir's touches 
had burned his skin. Heat had turned to ice in that time, chilled by a subtle 
strife far more perilous than open discord.

It was now his task to tell Orophin that his carefully crafted plot was 
unravelling, perhaps by Legolas's doing.

He found Orophin deep in conversation with two of his kin, yet as soon as 
he noticed Legolas, he rose. Asking his companions to give him a 
moment, he crossed the clearing to Legolas.

"Orophin, your plans are failing," Legolas began. "Does Haldir even know 
the true feelings of his brother? When confronted with your claims, he 
recoiled."

Orophin's face fell, his eyes glazing briefly with something both alarmed 
and sad.

"It seems all I set out to do to amend this situation falls to folly," he 
lamented. 

Ice gathered in Legolas's gut. The net he had tangled himself into was 
tightening, and there seemed no way to escape.

"Would it not be wisest to let this matter lie?" he ventured, catching 
Orophin's gaze. "To let them in their own time find out?"

Orophin shook his head. "We cannot. Not now. Too much has been said, 
and too many things unveiled. To go back now would force them to --" 
here his voice faltered. "They would not abide."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was aduial, and the stars were hesitantly lighting their familiar paths 
across the vault of midnight. The woods were silent all around the 
guardpost, as it was far away from Caras Galadhon. Haldir himself had 
volunteered to take the watch, thinking he would now have time to go over 
all that had befallen. He was still taking the coward's way out, fleeing to 
the borderlands to be alone with his thoughts. Legolas had turned out to be 
far more sharp-sighted than Haldir had thought, and he was also the one 
who had provoked Haldir to make this final mistake.

//Why now? Why must I be burdened with more? It is ill enough that I 
have taken my pleasure with someone well above my rank and then left 
him, but to feel lust for my brother...//

He knew Orophin's words were true, that he before long would have to 
confront Rumil, yet he found he lacked the courage to do it. The 
admission would alter everything, for good or ill, and it was not a step to 
be taken lightly - but at the same time it had to be made.

"What troubles you, brother?"

Haldir looked up quickly, catching Rumil's gaze. He had not expected 
anyone to come near this post, let alone the one he found he could not 
face. His younger brother would not have a watch-turn this night, yet 
Haldir had thought Rumil would have chosen to remain within the City. 
Haldir opened his mouth, feeling the words well up, then bit his lip to 
silence himself.

"I cannot say it. Nay, not to you." 

Rumil took half a step backward, then exhaled softly.

"What if it were true?" he ventured, the voice so light Haldir could 
scarcely hear it.

"If it were... true," Haldir echoed helplessly. "Then I would wish to hear it 
from their lips." He looked up at Rumil once more, seeing his own 
nervousness clearly mirrored on the features of his brother. "I would 
wish," Haldir hesitated, the words faltering, falling whispered, "I would 
wish to be as brave."

"Im anno mîl-nin le. [I give my love to you]", Rumil said, each word 
punctuated by a step closer, until the last word was sealed by his lips 
pressing a kiss to Haldir's mouth.

Haldir did not dare move nor breathe. Rumil's fingers laced into his hair, 
holding, not pulling. The kiss was soft, kept light by virtue of fear, and yet 
it seemed sweeter than all wine. Giving a desperate little sound in the back 
of his throat, Haldir cupped the back of Rumil's head, deepening the kiss.

As soon as the kiss had begun, it ended. They stepped back, their hold 
loosening, Rumil's hand relinquishing the locks of hair he had laced his 
fingers into.

"Rumil, this is folly..." Haldir protested.

"It is not, brother, and you know it. Do not deny further that which is 
palpably true. Do not do this to me."

Haldir could no more deny his younger brother than he could hinder the 
stars from rising, and this was what he wanted. Yet still a dark doubt and 
shame nagged at him, for they were in truth far too close of kin. The 
fairness of his brother tore at his heart, and he bent close to press a kiss to 
Rumil's forehead. In that moment, Rumil lifted his head, and so their lips 
met in another kiss.

//It is the fate of Nienor and Turin, this most dark of loves. Yet we know 
of what kin we are, and we do not regret it.//

"I have been wilfully blind, it seems," Haldir managed when at length the 
kiss was broken. "I did not know...."

"And had not the prince of Mirkwood intervened, it would surely have 
remained that way, brother,'" Rumil confessed. "I have only in my wildest 
of fancies imagined this to happen."

"Surely you know this is wrong?" Haldir ventured carefully. "That it will 
only be looked upon with consternation were it revealed?"

"I beg of you, do not bring that up. I would have this one moment without 
regret," Rumil said, inclining his head as if to escape Haldir's gaze. His 
hands tightened their hold, keeping Haldir in his place.

Haldir's heart wrenched at Rumil's statement, as he realized it was what he 
wanted as well. He did not wish to bring agony into this one perfect 
moment, yet he had to. Rumil was young, yet not so young that he would 
never have had lovers before. He would have learned that feelings of 
regret had to be heeded, not pushed away, lest they return in later times 
and spoil all.

"I do not ask guilt of you, brother beloved. I would never ask it of you. I 
only mourn the way this must be."

The second kiss was a shadow of the first, light and hesitant. Rumil's hand 
trembled a little as he raised it to trace the angle of Haldir's jaw. Suddenly, 
the shadows that had seemed to dim Haldir's vision lifted, dispersing but 
still lingering in the corners of his field of vision, an anxious reminder of 
what should not be.

//Elbereth, let not this become known, for I will surely wane if this love is 
taken from me.//

The forest surrounding them seemed to spin a web of blissfully concealing 
shade around them. There was more than enough light for them both to 
see, yet it seemed the light was contained. The glade was remote, known 
by perhaps a handful of the Galadhrim guard, and few passed near it of 
late. They would be undisturbed.

"Tell me," Haldir said, his voice faltering a little at the first word, "how 
long have you known?"

Rumil gave a little sound, halfway between a sigh and a sob, before 
replying.

"Years untold. Yet I kept it a secret, as you did. I am not so young nor so 
foolish to think it a thing allowed."

"We are indeed two masters of deceit, then," Haldir said, "if we have so 
carefully woven lies that we do not notice those that are offered to us."

"Ssh," Rumil whispered, pressing his finger to Haldir's lips, pale and white 
against rose, and Haldir could feel the warm breath ghost over his own 
lips. A kiss of air. "Heb-dínen," [Keep silent] Rumil continued, sliding the 
tips of his fingers down Haldir's neck, stopping at the collar of the dark 
tunic.

Haldir found himself unable to comply as Rumil's chill fingers dipped 
beneath the fabric, barely brushing his collarbone. A soft sigh from Rumil, 
and he leaned in, gently walking Haldir back a few steps until he came up 
against the trunk of a mallorn. The night air crackled, it seemed, 
shimmered and roared in Haldir's ears as he bent his head to kiss Rumil 
again. So forbidden and all the more sweet for it, to love and have 
someone who in essence was part of him already.

"You will not regret this?" he asked, stealing the air between them with 
languorous kisses. His courage seemed to rise and fall, plummeting now 
into a deep valley, a chasm of black fear as a flicker of tension played over 
Rumil's features.

"Never," Rumil said, his hands confirming his words as they slid over 
Haldir's side, tracing warmth even through the layers of fabric. "I will not 
regret if you will not. I ask only that of you - no regret."

"No regret," Haldir echoed, closing his eyes. Leaning into the embrace, he 
let himself be buoyed on the sheer thrill of lust and of the sensation of 
Rumil's hands on his skin as he stripped Haldir of the black shirt he wore. 
How was it that now each touch seemed so different? They had held each 
other more times than he would care to count, come to know each detail of 
each other in the long passing of years. Yet - not like this.

He slid his hand in under Rumil's cloak, cleverly opening the clasps. There 
was a shimmer in the dark fabric of the undertunic for each rise and fall of 
Rumil's chest, a glimmer like light on water. The soft skin under Haldir's 
palms seemed to harbour its own fire, dangerous warmth that burned 
against his palms as he caressed the skin. Rumil gave a soft moan as 
Haldir nipped at the lobe of his ear.

"Now I ask you to keep silent," Haldir murmured into Rumil's ear.

Smiling, Rumil leaned in to kiss Haldir again. The kiss was deep and 
heated, stealing air and sense from them both. He could taste a wealth of 
emotions in the kiss, it seemed, taste himself and all of the bitter longing 
dissolving into sweetness. Dulcet like honey, the kisses, and deep like 
shade.

A breathless rush of words, some half-stumbling over each other, passed 
between their lips, promises sealed by hands eagerly caressing. They were 
both in a rush to map each other's bodies, and Haldir felt as though he was 
being redrawn, shaped out of air by Rumil's hands. Love was springing 
out of denial, and he felt nearly frightened by the intensity of it. Haldir's 
breath was ragged, and it became a mere hiss of air as Rumil trailed his 
fingertips down his abdomen. Fire and coals and sweet sweet heat to the 
touch, and as Rumil's fingers dipped beneath the waistband of Haldir's 
leggings, he gave a sharp cry, bucking his hips.

Undoing the lacings of Haldir's leggings, Rumil swiftly divested Haldir of 
the last piece of clothing. Stepping back, he quickly stripped himself, 
carelessly flinging the garments aside. Despite the lack of grace in the 
movements, Haldir held his breath. There was no part of Rumil he had not 
seen before, yet now, as he looked at Rumil with a lover's gaze, all of the 
younger Elf was changed, presented now for him to explore.

The trunk of the mallorn was rough under Haldir's back, but he welcomed 
the feeling, leaning his head back to rest against the silvery bark. The 
mellyrn had always felt like they might sense his feelings, as though they 
spoke to him in their own tongue, far more a feeling than anything else. 
Even now, he could feel the life thrumming through the trunk of the tree, 
infusing him with a subtle courage. The leaves falling brushed against his 
sensitised skin, lover's caresses in their own right, golden against golden 
as they caught on Rumil's hair.

Rumil's fingers were tracing intricate, invisible patterns against his skin, 
and his breath was a heated flutter in the crook of Haldir's neck. Rumil's 
thigh, braced between his legs, pushed upward, and Haldir gave a short 
gasp, leaning back and spreading his legs further. He knew this game, but 
to play it in such a setting and with such a pair - it was not like any time 
before. Nothing would be the same, and yet the thought of sharing an even 
deeper bond with Rumil elated him. It felt as though the blood they shared 
drew them towards each other, murmured encouragement in a carnal tone.

The leaves in the clearing danced in the slight wind, and a long strand of 
Haldir's hair settled across his throat. Rumil brushed it away, his fingers 
tracing the soft skin at the hollow of Haldir's throat. The touch was light 
but burning, and he leaned in closer, laving the arch of Haldir's collarbone, 
then continued down the wide, pale chest. Haldir gently twined his fingers 
into Rumil's hair, hindering him from going further down.

"Let me kiss you," he said, his voice scarcely carrying, but Rumil did not 
seem to need more encouragement. Straightening up, he kissed Haldir 
anew, nipping at Haldir's lips.

Rumil's hard kiss left him breathless, and he reciprocated eagerly, tangling 
his fingers tighter into Rumil's hair. Were the choice his, he would never 
wish to let go. Shifting, Haldir made as if to kneel down, but Rumil 
stopped him.

"Haldir, brother, let me do this to you," Rumil said, voice soft, as he 
pushed Haldir back to lean against the trunk of the mallorn. "Let me 
pleasure you."

Haldir gave a smile as he let his head fall back. The smile opened into a 
deep sigh as Rumil traced a path of kisses down the side of his neck. 
Rumil's words were enough to stir him, wake his flesh to sensations so 
forbidden they did not even have a name in their tongue. Yet, he did not 
feel penance. If he had come thus far, was he not allowed to reap the fruits 
of his labour? Rumil was willing, and how could love be counted wrong? 
No one was being harmed in their tryst.

"I could never refuse you," he said, letting the very last vestiges of 
trepidation go.

Rumil's reply was wordless, a clever ghosting of fingertips that teased to 
life the most heated reactions. Sinking to his knees, he laved a winding 
path down Haldir's torso, tracing the tips of his fingers along Haldir's 
sides, mapping the shallow grooves between the ribs. Pausing his 
ministrations for a moment, he stretched his hand out to the side, grasping 
a slender phial from its resting place amid the scattered garments.

"You planned this," Haldir said, hearing his own voice grow unsteady. A 
flush of heat travelled through him. This was no mere deed of impulse, but 
a crafted plan -- Rumil had known, perhaps even hoped, in the same 
manner as Haldir had.

"Not so much planned as hoped," Rumil confessed.

Far more fire in this encounter than he had felt with the young prince, 
Haldir thought. A quick flash of fear stabbed at him, and he reached down, 
gently tipping Rumil's chin up. The grey gaze was dark with lust, and the 
sight of the familiar face sent a shivering wave of passion crashing 
through him.

"Rumil," he whispered, feeling as though a long lifetime of emotions laced 
the name. 

Slicking his fingers with the oil, Rumil let his fingers slide up the insides 
of Haldir's thighs, urging his brother to spread his legs further. Unerringly 
finding the most tender spot between the long legs, Rumil worked his 
fingers in a slow and teasing caress. Haldir gave a lustful groan, clasping 
his hand to Rumil's shoulder. Oh, the wickedness of the touch and the 
sweetness of the pleasure it brought. All the same, it was too light, too 
careful and restrained.

"You needn't treat me as though I were spun of glass," Haldir said mildly, 
grasping Rumil's wrist. "You know me. I have not broken from this little," 
he went on, stroking his thumb over the thin skin.

In reply, Rumil shifted the pressure of his fingers, the slick digits pushing 
past the tightly clamped muscle. Haldir's head snapped back as he gave a 
loud gasp, and he could feel the bark of the mallorn tugging at strands of 
his hair. As Rumil stroked deeper, Haldir gave a hoarse curse.

"Be still, brother sweet," Rumil murmured, "you will give us away yet." 
Rising, Rumil let his oil-slicked fingers trace a spiral around the shaft of 
Haldir's cock before he coated his own arousal with the remainder of the 
oil. Sliding his hand down along Haldir's thigh, he folded his fingers into 
the crook of Haldir's knee and tugged gently upward.

Letting his heel settle into the small of Rumil's back, Haldir tried to brace 
himself, yet found he had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning aloud at 
the sensation of being breached. It seemed every sensation he had ever 
known in lovemaking suddenly melded into one, and he fisted his hand in 
Rumil's hair, seeking out his brother's mouth for a hard kiss.

Every sharp curve of Rumil's body was new and yet familiar, and locked 
in the hard embrace, Haldir felt as though he might stop breathing from 
the sheer ecstasy of it all. Concentrating on keeping upright, he moved in 
time with the thrusts, feeling the soft rasp of the mallorn bark against his 
bare back. He could feel the life echoing through the wood, and he closed 
his eyes, letting his head fall back against the trunk.

Each thrust had a ragged gasp tear from Haldir's throat, a sound that was 
as much pleasure as it was burning shock. The hold was hard enough to 
bruise, yet it seemed not even that was close enough. Finally this, after 
such endless wait, after such dangerous folly. All previous lovers seemed 
to fade into grey, a faceless mass that meant nothing compared to this wild 
new love coursing through his veins. Each of Rumil's kisses tasted like 
flame, and it seemed as though he could not get enough.

Rumil's soft mewls echoed in his ears, and he tightened his grip 
impossibly further. The skin under his hands was sweat-slick, and as he 
bent his head to Rumil's neck, he could well taste the slight salt. He could 
feel each shallow breath mirror his own, and the climax was building fast. 
Far too fast, he had time to think, before the final hard thrust had him fall 
into brilliant light. Rumil dug his nails into Haldir's shoulder, his nails 
pressing crimson crescents into the hollow above the collarbone. Every 
sound seemed amplified, and he could hear his own blood singing wild 
through his veins as he writhed in the rush of pleasure.

Cradling Rumil, he rode out the aftershocks, thankful for the solidity of 
the tree that was supporting him. For a moment, the world seemed to have 
shrunk to hold only the two of them. Keeping his eyes closed, Haldir 
listened to Rumil's breathing, falling into the rhythm with the same ease 
that he always had. His mind reeled with the implications of his deeds. He 
had taken pleasure with his brother, shared his body in the most intimate 
of ways with someone who shared his blood. Yet, all he could feel was 
elation and love.

Opening his eyes, Haldir looked at Rumil, feeling like he was drowning in 
the grey gaze. How many years had he spent longing without certainty of 
who the object was? And how many more in helpless agonized guilt over 
the depravity of it? It had all been for nothing, a mutual panic that had 
surely set into motion things neither one of them could have foreseen or 
even intended.

"I love you," Haldir contented himself with saying, stroking a sweat-
dampened streak of hair out of Rumil's face. "I have always loved you, 
even when I myself did not see it."

"I did not think myself worthy of your love," Rumil said, his voice small, 
"and so I set out to avenge what I saw as a wrong done to you. Ai, I am 
foolish, am I not?"

Breaking the tight embrace, both Elves slowly sank down onto the grass to 
rest their wearied limbs. Haldir grasped his cloak from where it lay 
rumpled on the ground, and wrapped it around them both. Settling his 
head on Haldir's chest, Rumil gave a content sigh, lacing his fingers with 
Haldir's. The simple gesture was enough to have Haldir's heart skip a beat. 
He was tearing down boundaries and breaking rules with each breath. If 
anyone were to know, they would be banished, and he would lose 
everything.

"Do not trouble your mind with thoughts of remorse now," Rumil said, 
splaying his fingers wide over Haldir's side. "Let go for once." Giving a 
smile, he shifted, pinning Haldir under him. "You look beautiful this way, 
brother," he said, his voice catching on the last word, "far more fair than I 
could have pictured in any reverie."

"Fair? I am no maiden," Haldir protested.

"I know," Rumil grinned. "You proved that to me."

"We will have to tell Orophin of this," Haldir said, taking hold of Rumil's 
hand and pressing a light kiss to the knuckles. "Perhaps not all detail," he 
added, a slight colour staining his cheeks, "yet certainly something. I have 
never been able to keep secrets from him, and neither have you." 

Gently shouldering Rumil out of the way, Haldir sat up, brushing away a 
few errant leaves. The early spring night carried a prickle of chill, and the 
breeze was cold enough to be clearly felt. "Much as I enjoy looking at you 
unclothed," he said, trailing his fingertips down Rumil's chest, "the night is 
cold, and both you and I are less than clean. I do not wish to explain this in 
full detail, should someone chance upon this place."

"There is a small stream nearby," Rumil suggested, leaning back on his 
elbows. "The water will be cold, however."

Indeed, the water was icy, Haldir found, nearly enough to take his breath 
away. The stream in itself was shallow, barely reaching to mid-thigh, but 
the chill was piercing.

Rumil gave a short gasp as he waded into the water, grabbing onto 
Haldir's shoulder for support. As Haldir poured a handful of water down 
his chest, he shied away, yet with a smile. Cupping his palms, Haldir tried 
to will the heat of his body to warm the water, but found it was still as cold 
as he hastened to wash off the traces of oil and pearl-shimmery seed still 
clinging to his skin.

Stealing one last, lingering kiss from Rumil, Haldir stepped up onto the 
bank of the stream and began sorting his garments from Rumil's. The night 
was deepening, the stars now shining bright, and in a matter of hours, 
Haldir realized, his and Rumil's watch would be over for this night. 

Settling to sit on the soft grass, he watched Rumil wash himself, and 
ducked as the younger Elf decided to spatter water at him. It felt bitter that 
they would have to act as though nothing had passed when they returned. 
How long would he be able to keep up the lie?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orophin had sent word that he wished to speak to Haldir and Rumil when 
they returned to Caras Galadhon.

Haldir and Rumil approached him together, both grave and keeping 
distance from each other as they saw Orophin. He rose, walking ahead of 
them to one of the telain that were more remote. Orophin found he did not 
feel entirely comfortable with the situation. They were, and had always 
been, a closely-knit trio, despite the difference in their ages. Being eldest, 
Orophin had taken it on himself to be the guardian of his siblings, and now 
more than before he felt the true burden of the position. It was as though 
all problems were being placed on his shoulders. 

It felt arcane to assume again the same grouping that had been in the 
beginning, the constellation that had been shattered and regrouped by the 
young Prince of Mirkwood. 

"It feels as though I have been called to talk to the Lord Celeborn once 
more," Haldir said, wrapping his cloak around tighter around himself.

"This is far more serious," Orophin remarked. "I do not know all of what 
has passed, yet I urge you to stave your urges."

"Stave our urges? I do not tell you to stay away from your loved one!" 
Rumil snapped. "It is not your place --"

Haldir laid his hand on Rumil's arm, fingers gripping hard. Rumil stopped 
mid-sentence, but his look remained angry, and he leaned away from 
Orophin.

"It is my place, Rumil," Orophin said, his voice cold. "It is already causing 
rifts. We do not need this on the eve of war." He gave a grimace of pain as 
he stood, looking out over the silent woods. "I know that your... liaison is 
wilfully chosen and that nothing is taken or done without consent, yet 
having to hide this will make you vulnerable. Secrets can be culled out by 
the Enemy, and you will be at risk. I will not let you fall prey!"

"Even now you talk about risks, Orophin," Haldir interrupted. "What of 
the possibility that one of us wanes if we are denied the love that sustains 
us?"

"Do not make this any harder than it already is," Orophin said, turning to 
face his brothers. "You must see how impossible this is." His look 
softened, and he kneeled down, level to level with both Haldir and Rumil. 
"It is forbidden, against all our laws. As harsh as it may sound, I wish this 
would not be true. Yet, I will do what I can to keep it a secret. That is a 
promise." He brushed his fingers lightly over Rumil's cheek. "Trust me. 
Rather I break laws than lose you." 

Haldir laced his fingers with Rumil's, but kept silent.

The hours of the night passed in silence, the low call of a bird the only 
sound to break the stillness. Darkness crept ever closer, but still the 
borders of Laurelindorenan withstood the assault of the Enemy. The 
brothers spoke no word, and yet much was told in gazes and touches that 
were only understood by the three of them.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night the Fellowship was again summoned to the chamber of 
Celeborn, and there the Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words. 
Legolas found he could meet the Lady Galadriel's gaze calmly, and she 
seemed to smile at him gently, in wordless approval.

//You carry greater wisdom with you out of this place, Greenleaf,// she 
said, her voice again echoing ghostly and softly inside Legolas's mind. //It 
will serve you well, even though you have not yet fully understood the 
depth of it.//

At length Celeborn spoke of their departure, having waited for the eight to 
settle down in the seats provided for them. "Now is the time," he said, 
"when those who wish to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to 
leave this land."

The words of the Lord surprised Legolas, bringing a brief sting of 
bitterness. It would seem the Lord Celeborn did not know as much of what 
had befallen as the Lady did, or he would perhaps not have chosen his 
words in that manner.

"Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, for a while," 
Celeborn added. "But whether they stay or go, none can be sure of peace. 
For we are come now to the edge of doom." He made a sweeping motion 
with his hand, indicating the forest that could be glimpsed around them. 
"Here those who wish may await the oncoming of the hour till either the 
ways of the world lie open again, or we summon them to the last need of 
Lorien. Then they may return to their own lands, or else go to the long 
home of those that fall in battle." 

There was a whisper of uneasy sighs among the Fellowship, and Legolas 
found that he was not wholly without doubt. He straightened up, 
determined not to show signs of weakness.

"They all resolved to go forward," Galadriel said, looking in their eyes. 
Boromir could not long abide her gaze, and he bent his head.

"As for me," he said, not lifting his gaze, "my way home lies onward and 
not back."

"That is true," Celeborn said, "but is all this Company going with you to 
Minas Tirith?" At this, Boromir lifted his head, chancing a sidelong glance 
at Aragorn.

"We have not decided our course," Aragorn said, speaking in Boromir's 
stead, as though he feared the other man might speak words unwise. 
"Beyond Lothlorien I do not know what Gandalf intended to do. Indeed I 
do not think that even he had any clear purpose."

"Maybe not," Celeborn said. "Yet when you leave this land, you can no 
longer forget the Great River. As some of you know well, it cannot be 
crossed by travellers with baggage between Lothlorien and Gondor, save 
by boat. And are not the bridges of Osgiliath broken down and all the 
landings held now by the Enemy?" He looked to Boromir, who nodded, 
his features set in a look of grim resignation.

"On which side will you journey?" Celeborn went on, "The way to Minas 
Tirith lies upon this side, upon the west; but the straight road of the Quest 
lies east of the River, upon the darker shore. Which shore will you now 
take?"

"If my advice is heeded, it will be the western shore, and the way to Minas 
Tirith," Boromir answered, yet the tone of confidence in his voice was 
absent. "But I am not the leader of the Company," he added. The others 
said nothing, and Aragorn looked doubtful and troubled.

"I see that you do not yet know what to do," Celeborn said, breaking the 
awkward silence that had fallen. "It is not my part to choose for you; but I 
will help you as I may." He paused, seeming to fall into thought for a short 
moment. "There are some among you who can handle boats: Legolas, 
whose folk know the swift Forest River," At this, Legolas nodded, casting 
a sidelong glance at his companions. "And Boromir of Gondor; and 
Aragorn the traveller."

"And one Hobbit!" Merry cried. "Not all of us look on boats as wild 
horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine." Legolas gave a 
smile. The Hobbits were proving to be far more resourceful than he had 
thought, and far from the children they looked to be.

"That is well," Celeborn said. "Then I will furnish your Company with 
boats. They must be small and light, for if you go far by water, there are 
places where you will be forced to carry them. You will come to the rapids 
of Sarn Gebir, and maybe at last to the great falls of Rauros where the 
River thunders down from Nen Hithoel; and there are other perils. Boats 
may make your journey less toilsome for a while. Yet they will not give 
you counsel: in the end you must leave them and the River, and turn west - 
or east."

"All shall be prepared for you and await you at the haven before noon 
tomorrow," Celeborn continued, inclining his head slightly. "I will send 
my people to you in the morning to help you make ready for the journey. 
Now we will wish you all a fair night and untroubled sleep."

"Good night, my friends," Galadriel said. "Sleep in peace, and do not 
trouble your hearts overmuch with thought of the road tonight. Maybe the 
paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though 
you do not see them. Good night!"

The Company now took their leave, bowing out in silence. The Hobbits 
still seemed awestruck by the Lord and Lady, and even Boromir seemed to 
harbour a grudging respect for the Lady Galadriel, despite his censorious 
words at their entry. Carefully treading down the winding stair, the 
Fellowship returned to their pavilion. Legolas went with them, for this was 
to be their last night in LothLorien, and in spite of the words of Galadriel 
they wished to take counsel together.

For a long time they debated what they should do, and how best to attempt 
the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring: but they came to no decision. 
It was plain that most of them desired to go first to Minas Tirith, and to 
escape at least for a while from the terror of the Enemy, and Legolas was 
of like mind. He, at least, was willing to follow a leader over the River and 
into the shadow of Mordor; but Frodo spoke no word, and Aragorn spoke 
little. Legolas could sense the Ranger was doubtful, yet he had no doubt 
Aragorn would take the task of leading them.

"I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty," Boromir 
said, as if he was speaking to himself. After that he was silent for a while, 
sitting with his eyes fixed on Frodo. At length he spoke again, softly. 

"If you wish only to destroy the Ring," he said, "then there is little use in 
war and weapons; and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help." He paused, 
then resumed speaking, tilting his head as he continued to gaze at Frodo. 
"But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is 
folly