Title: The Undiscovered Country, 1/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Legolas, Glorfindel/Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen, Gimli, to be named Vanya. Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Eighth and final story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the Fourth Age, in Valinor, after the departure of the last of the members of the Fellowship. The title is taken from Hamlet's soliloquy, "To Be or Not To Be". "To be, or not to be--that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep-- No more--and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-- To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause…" Hamlet, Act 3, scene I ~ William Shakespeare Summary: Legolas struggles to find his purpose and searches for a face he does not know. Another struggles to understand the confusion in his own spirit. To arrive in Aman is to be reborn, Legolas thought. He had been thusly reborn into a place he had never seen, to a world he did not know, and to a purpose that was yet to be revealed to him. All his life he had been a warrior prince, a soldier, and a king. Here, in this undiscovered country, this place of eternal peace, these Undying Lands, he was adrift. There were no lands to protect, no people to govern, no wars to fight. The last years of his life in Middle-earth had been spent exploring forests and mountains, trying to take in all that he would not have a second chance to see. Knowing one's days are limited provides a sense of clarity that time uncounted does not. He learned that from Éomer: live life to its fullest every day that you have. It was not the way of Elves, to breathe in each last measure of air, to experience life as if it was one's last day on earth; only those who had faced death understood this. The Elves in Valinor had a peaceful eternity to live and learn, and often they bided their time in quiet contemplation. Many of the elves that were born in Middle-earth had some difficulty adjusting to this new way of life in Aman, Legolas among them. He was a restless spirit that was forever in motion, wandering the pathways of the cities, exploring the woods and mountains, and Gimli was ever at his side. The dwarf was getting old; his last hale years were upon him now and he was eager to see all that he could ere he passed. As they wandered, Legolas searched each new face he encountered for some sign of recognition, some indication that his father's reborn spirit walked the lands of Valinor. It was a bright afternoon when he immersed himself in just such an activity. He was wandering the streets of Tirion, walking through a market where elves traded their wares. Long rows of stalls lined the square, bedecked with tapestries, baskets, intricate silver and gem work, rugs, blankets, and all manner of goods. Occasionally, he would stop and pick up something to decorate a home he did not yet have. Crates lined the basement of Elladan and Elrohir's home, filled with books and maps and various things he had sent to Aman from his father's caves. He had kept his father's bed, along with the furnishings from his father's private chambers; his own things he had given to the staff that had served both him and his father so well. He had no kitchen goods, having that area cared for all his life, so he began accumulating pans and crockery as well. The smell of fresh bread enticed him around a corner and down a different aisle, and he adjusted the roll of drapery that was tucked under his arm. Gimli followed, pulling a large iron pot that had been set on a cart of sorts, so that he might handle it on his own. Legolas remarked that the dwarf was talking about making a stew that night in his new pot and was wondering how long it would take to properly season the pot before cooking in it. Legolas patted his pocket, making a mental calculation of how much he carried to barter with, then made his way down the aisle containing the foodstuffs. He found a vendor who was selling fresh-baked blackberry treats. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some small stones and gold pieces. With a smile, he selected a pretty, blue stone, nearly translucent, that was gifted to him years ago by a friend of his father. He held out his hand and the young fair-haired elleth smiled broadly as she plucked the stone from his palm. Excitedly she showed her parents, who smiled and nodded. It was a lavish payment, but it made the young elleth happy. Legolas thanked the youngling, then handed one tart to Gimli and took a bite out of his own. Gimli winked at the child as he passed, causing the young one to giggle. By the time they left the market, Gimli's pot was filled with two loaves of fresh bread, some blackberries, mushrooms, apples, various herbs, five bottles of wine and three cleaned pheasants wrapped in paper. "There's our meal this evening," Gimli said in a satisfied voice as they left the market, licking the juice of blackberries off his fingertips. "I have no idea how to prepare this; I have only ever cooked pheasant over an open fire. I wish I remembered how Samwise prepared it; that was one of the most delicious birds I had ever tasted," Legolas answered. "No doubt the hobbit knew how to prepare a meal," Gimli agreed. "Have no fear, laddie. I will do all the cooking this evening." In his mind, he began running over all the different ways he could cook pheasant. As they walked along, Legolas felt the fine hairs tingle on the back of his neck; it was as if he felt his father's gaze on him as he had the day of their arrival. Quickly, he looked around, his eyes scanning the long pathways of the inner city, but he saw no one. Shrugging, he continued on his way, with Gimli in tow. The Vanya disappeared into the shadow of the doorway, his gaze fixed on the hero from Middle-earth. There were a few that took note of Legolas; hushed murmurs had greeted the Vanya's ears as he followed the Sinda King. It was evident, even to those who did not know of Legolas by reputation, that he had come from Middle-earth; it was also evident that he was of noble birth, being fluent not only in Sindarin and Quenya, but in Westron, the language of Men, a that Legolas used when addressing the dwarf, trying to garner some meaning out of words that were wholly unlike his own tongue. He continued to follow the Sinda throughout the day, breaking off his shadowy pursuit only when Anor began her descent. Placing his pack into the small boat, he paddled out into the water and toward his island home. He was unlike his own kind, this mysterious and unusual Vanya. Rather than dwell in the cities with his kindred, he lived in a small, solitary dwelling on the wooded shores of Tol Eressëa. Until Legolas' arrival, his trips to the mainland of Valinor had been limited to those occasions when ships arrived from Middle-earth, when he visited his parents, or when he needed something that his island home did not provide. His parents, while loving him as much as any parents could possibly love their child, found him to be a quite unusual elfling. He was bored easily by the games of his childhood friends, preferring to climb trees and read books. They were confounded by his fascination with the sea, and as he grew older would lose him for days at a time when he paddled out to the island from their home near the city. He had once heard his father tell a good friend that they were merely guardians to him; that their purpose was to watch over him until the day came that he no longer needed them. Most children would be hurt by this statement, but the Vanya was not, for deep inside he knew it was true. He was like a child with an adult's spirit, whiling away the days until his body caught up with his soul. He was an artistic young elf, prone to sketching and drawing from the days he was first able to wield a pen. His drawings were strange to his parents, places none of them had ever seen before, places that seemed to be born from a vivid imagination. Later in his life, when the elves from Middle-earth first began arriving in significant numbers, he had begun traveling to the mainland more often. As the years grew on, he impatiently awaited each ship; no one in his family understood this fascination. Shortly after the ceremony that marked his coming of majority, he had begun building the small home he lived in on Tol Eressëa. He would withdraw into the woods of the island to tend his garden and care for his forest friends. He could be found feeding deer from his hand or spreading seed for the birds when he was not swimming, or tending his garden. He loved his parents; he was grateful to them for the love and care they had given him as an elfling, but he was not as connected to them as his brother or his sister were, nor was he very close to his siblings. Until the elves began arriving from Middle-earth, he had felt like a stranger amongst his own kind. As the waves lapped at the sides of his small boat, he remembered the elf who had introduced himself the day Legolas arrived. Something about the elf seemed familiar, though they had never met. He felt at ease near him, though he was sure that in his own awkward way that did not come across. Rúmil, his name had been, and Galen was Rúmil's mate. He had nearly forgotten about Rúmil once Legolas arrived; the arrival of the great Sinda hero had wiped many things from his mind. Indeed, Legolas was almost all he thought of now, when he was swimming at dawn, when he lay down to sleep. His garden was sorely in need of tending because he now spent his days following the Sinda and the dwarf around the city. Yet, for all his fascination, he could not bring himself to approach the fair king. The sadness he saw in Legolas' eyes tugged at his heart, yet he was unable to offer comfort. Instead, he followed the Sinda, watching over him for reasons he was not aware of. He pulled the boat up onto the pebbled shore and then retreated into the woods. * * * * Legolas and Gimli sat upon the veranda of the twins' home. Elladan and Elrohir were inside cleaning up after the evening meal. The dwarf sat back in his chair, his feet propped upon the stone railing as he drew upon his pipe. Legolas leaned back on the chaise, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "We were followed today," he said softly. Gimli paused before releasing a puff of smoke. "Did you see who it was?" "No, but I sensed them there. I do not think they meant us harm, perhaps they were curious." "About what?" "It is not every day that one sees a dwarf and an elf shopping in the town square." Gimli chuckled. "Aye, this is true." "I want to walk to the shore tomorrow." "Sounds like a fine way to spend a day. I would like to see if there are any caves in those cliffs." "Seeking a home?" Legolas asked with a smile. "Aye. While this one is fine, no doubt, I am a dwarf and my place is beneath ground." Legolas took a sip of the potent Mirkwood brandy that had been shipped from his home. "I would like to think your place is beside me." "It is," Gimli agreed. "But you would not begrudge me a home of my own, would you?" "Never," Legolas answered. "I only hope you find a cave tall enough that I do not have to stoop when I visit you." Gimli chuckled. "I could always make adjustments." Legolas smiled and looked up at the night sky. He was lonely. He missed the comfort of a warm body beside him in bed, he missed strong arms holding him; truth be known, he missed the scent of leather and wild grasses. He missed Éomer. He had thought of the man many times over the long years. He had thought of all that never could have been, and all that turned out to be. He counted himself lucky to have known the best of men, not just the worst. There had been many good men: Éomer, Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Imrahil, Halbarad, and those who carried on their legacies. Gimli interrupted his thoughts. "Well, I am taking my tired old bones to bed." Legolas looked back at his dear friend and smiled. "Sleep well, my friend," he said softly. "Aye, laddie. You as well." Long moments passed and Legolas listened to the distant waves and the wind in the trees. He heard the twins come out onto the veranda and he looked up to see Elladan kneel beside him. "You need a lover," the elder twin said in his frank way. "I know," Legolas answered. "but I am not sure if I am ready." Elrohir leaned against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. "You hold onto what you cannot regain, Legolas. This does you no good." "Am I to just forget him?" Legolas asked. "We know you could never do that," Elladan answered. "I have been searching, but I have not found him. What if he has not been released?" Legolas closed his eyes. "What if he dwells in Mandos' Halls still?" "You should speak with Glorfindel," Elrohir said softly. "He is the only one among us who remembers; he is the only one who knows the journey." "Will he speak of it with me?" Legolas asked in earnest. "He cares very much for you, Legolas. There is little you could ask of him that he would not give," Elrohir replied. "Perhaps I shall see him tomorrow, after I return from the coast." Elrohir nodded and crossed the short distance to where Legolas lay. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his friend's forehead. "You know, should you need comfort, Elladan and I are here. We would ask no more of you than you were willing to give." "I know," Legolas answered quietly. "I am grateful for your friendship." "We love you," Elladan said as he caressed Legolas' cheek. The twins then rose and entered the house, hand in hand. To be continued… Title: The Undiscovered Country, 2/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Legolas, Glorfindel/Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen, Gimli, to be named Vanya. Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Eighth and final story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the Fourth Age, in Valinor, after the departure of the last of the members of the Fellowship. The title is taken from Hamlet's soliloquy, "To Be or Not To Be". Summary: Legolas discovers the place of his dreams with Gimli's help. Legolas and Gimli walked side by side along the rugged shores of Aman. His eyes searched the distance, a look of frustration on his face. "What is the matter, laddie?" Gimli asked as he looked up at his friend. "This is not right. Where are the trees? Where is the forest?" The long expanse of shoreline was virtually devoid of vegetation, bounded on one side by the sea and by cliffs on the other. Gimli stopped and placed his hands on his hips. Shielding his eyes, he looked out at the island of Tol Eressëa. "What about that place? It is an island, it must have a beach." Legolas turned and his eyes lit up. "Yes! That must be it! Come, we must find a boat." Gimli followed Legolas back to the harbor, struggling to keep up with the elf's long strides. He was not sure what Legolas was looking for; his friend had never told him and he was not of the sort to pry. What he did know was that Legolas would never be at rest until he found what he searched for, and as his own years grew short, his greatest wish was to see his friend at peace. Gimli had visited Galadriel weekly since their arrival in Valinor, seeking counsel for his good friend. Galadriel was among the wisest of Elves, having seen much and lived through much in her long life. He worried about who would look after Legolas when he passed, and Galadriel assured him that there was no shortage of those who loved the king. Elladan and Elrohir made the same assurances to Gimli, and the dwarf knew that there were few who loved his best friend as much as they did. Legolas paused and knelt beside his friend as they reached the harbor. "I am sorry, Gimli," he said quietly. "In my rush to find a boat, I forgot that it is growing harder for you to keep pace with me." Gimli's breath was labored, but he had been able to keep up with Legolas. "I shall catch my breath on the boat. Not to worry, laddie." Legolas gently squeezed Gimli's shoulder, and then helped his friend into the small boat. * * * * The Vanya heard the soft scraping of the hull upon the smooth stones as the boat slid up onto the shore. He rarely had visitors; sometimes his parents would come, but most often, this part of the island was his to inhabit alone. He waited. If it was his parents, they would call out to him as they approached. When he did not hear their call, he began walking toward the shoreline to see who had arrived. He was a short distance away when he heard Legolas speaking in Westron to the dwarf. He stepped behind a large tree and tried to make sense of their words. "Yes! This is it! Brilliant idea, Gimli… this is exactly how I saw it in my dreams," Legolas exclaimed. "There is the rock!" He sat down upon the smooth surface of the standing rock and gazed out across the bay that lay between the island and mainland. The image before him was nearly the same as the recurring dream he had had since Dunharrow so many years ago. In the dream, he had not seen land on the horizon, which was why he had not thought the location to be Tol Eressëa once they had arrived. This particular spot was a cove, of sorts, bordered on each side by low cliffs that jutted out into the sea. The beach was covered in small, smooth stones that had been rolled and tossed over the ages by the waves. Behind him was a thick forest, and in front of him were the Bay of Aldamar and the coast of Aman. He imagined what the peak of Taniquetil would look like through the clouds that shrouded it. Gimli sat down on the ground and lit his pipe, leaning back against the large rock that Legolas sat upon. Neither spoke for long hours, they merely waited and watched the waves roll in upon the beach. The Vanya, in turn, watched them from the forest, torn between the urge to approach and the need to stay hidden. As the sun sank behind the low mountain on the island, he watched them rise and push their boat back out into the water, then row back to the mainland. He lingered at the edge of the woods until he could no longer make them out clearly, and then returned to his home. * * * * "Where do they go?" Elrohir asked as he watched Legolas and Gimli walking the path from the city to the harbor. Elladan stood beside his twin, one arm around Elrohir's waist, one hand upon the balcony railing. "I do not know. Legolas has never said, and I feel strange about asking." "Every day, nearly since their arrival, they have left just after dawn and returned at dusk. Wherever they go, it cannot be too far, or they would not return at the same time each evening," Elrohir mused. "Aye, besides, Gimli grows old; he can no longer walk to the edges of the earth as he once could." "I fear he is not to be with us much longer," Elrohir added. "It will be most difficult for Legolas when he passes." Elladan tightened his grip on Elrohir's waist. "Legolas has lost so many he has cared for already." Elrohir leaned his head upon Elladan's shoulder. "Have you noticed the toll it has taken on him? I remember when we first met him, he was so full of life, so radiant." "He is yet beautiful, but in a different way," Elladan agreed. "It is a tragic, somber beauty." He sighed. "Sometimes it breaks my heart just to look at him." A tear rolled down Elrohir's cheek. "I know. I have never allowed myself to get so close to another; I have never given so much of myself to anyone but you." Elladan turned his head and kissed Elrohir's temple. "He has cherished your love, even if he can no longer return it. I know in my heart that Legolas loves you as much as you love him." Elrohir turned as Gimli and Legolas disappeared from view and wrapped his arms around Elladan's waist. "I love you, Elladan. I could never, would never love anyone as much as I love you." Elladan held his twin tight. "I know, Elrohir. We are two hearts joined, two bodies joined…" "Two souls joined," Elrohir finished with a sad smile. Elladan caressed Elrohir's face. "Aye; that we are." Tilting his brother's chin up slightly, he kissed Elrohir gently, their lips moving against each other as they had for years uncounted. While many did not understand the love they shared, no one doubted it. All who encountered them saw the bond immediately and no one questioned it, for who were they to judge love? Even their parents accepted it, and Elrond understood it better than anyone else did, perhaps. Having once had a twin of his own, he knew the strength of their bond. Now that they were in Aman, Elrond no longer worried about the repercussions of their love; the Valar and the Elves of Aman would not judge them as men would have. "Come," Elladan murmured against Elrohir's lips. "Let us take flowers to mother, she has missed us these many years." Elrohir smiled and nodded. "Roses and gardenia, they are her favorite." Elladan closed his eyes and brushed his lips against Elrohir's forehead. "I love you, Elrohir," he whispered. "I love you, Elladan," Elrohir answered. * * * * The days marched on, each one the same as the last. Legolas would depart the home he shared with the twins and walk to Gimli's cave. Once there, he would collect his friend, they would walk to the harbor, and he would row them to the cove on Tol Eressëa. Seasons changed: spring turned to summer, summer to autumn, and now winter was coming. Gimli's cave was small but homey. Legolas discovered that in addition to being a stout and skilled warrior, Gimli was also a master chef and skilled craftsman. The elf would need to nearly crawl through the small opening of the cave, but once inside he could almost stand upright. Gimli kept the opening small, to block out the winds that blew from the sea, and he had crafted a beautifully carved oak door to seal off his abode. Taking advantage of a tube-like hole in the ceiling of the cave, he had fashioned a pipe out of iron to vent his stove, and he had built a bed, table, and some chairs from fallen trees that came from the interior of the mainland. The cave was small and modest, but quite comfortable. Once Gimli's home had been constructed, he had returned to joining Legolas on his daily voyage to Tol Eressëa. It was late one afternoon, not quite the dead of winter, when he realized his last trip was upon him. He sat on the ground, in his customary place, his cloak drawn tight around him. Beneath it, he wore heavy, fur-lined garments and boots that were lined with fleece. His gloves were also lined and made it difficult for him to stuff his pipe, but he managed nonetheless. Legolas sat above him; the elf's legs were drawn up to his chest, his own cloak wrapped around them. The wind blew strong and cold, causing whitecaps to form on the water. Gimli knew that elves were nearly impervious to the weather. He had watched Legolas tunnel his way through heavy snow on Caradhras wearing no more than leggings, boots and a tunic. He had seen the elf walk on snow as if it was as solid as rock, watched him swim in water that would have turned his own flesh blue, seen him face heat that would blister the skin of a man without so much as a flinch. Yet, his friend now looked as cold and miserable as he was. This worried Gimli. He worried that the years of hardship and heartache were wearing on his friend, diminishing his elven strength. As a shadow fell upon the water, cast by the hills behind them, Legolas rose and stretched. The elf had not said one word the entire day and Gimli had been silent as well, trying to give Legolas support in whatever way he could. He grasped Legolas' proffered hand and allowed his friend to help him to his feet. He felt heavy, weary, old. His joints creaked and his body groaned from even modest effort, and the coldness of the day only made it worse. "Are you all right, laddie?" he asked quietly. "Aye," Legolas answered. "Though I fear I have kept you here overlong; it has grown very cold." "Don't worry about me," Gimli answered. "I'll be just fine. The question is, how will you be?" Legolas cocked his head. "What do you mean?" "How will you be when I am gone?" Gimli asked. Legolas swallowed a lump that seemed to form instantly in his throat. Years of practice had enabled him to quell tears when he needed to. He knelt before his friend and mustered a smile. "I will be fine, Gimli. I will miss you, very much, but I will be fine." "Swear it," Gimli replied. "Swear a warrior's oath." "I swear," Legolas answered softly. Gimli smiled and nodded, reaching out and squeezing Legolas' shoulder. "Come, let's get out of here, I'm hungry." "Some roast boar, perhaps?" Legolas asked with a grin. "Aye! And some ale and a good smoke." They walked toward the boat and Legolas helped Gimli inside, then he rowed them back to Aman. From his customary place behind the tree, the Vanya watched them depart. In the months he had watched and listened to them, he had picked up parts of the language they spoke. He knew the dwarf would die soon, and he knew that Legolas was going to suffer much grief as a result. It pained him to see Legolas suffer so, after having endured so much already. Through their conversations, he had learned much about his Sinda. He had learned about the friends Legolas had who had died, the wars and battles Legolas had fought, and the places Legolas had lived in and seen. He saw Legolas not only through his own eyes, but also through those of Gimli, and slowly he began to fall in love with an elf he had never met. His greatest desire was to heal Legolas' wounded heart, to give him what he needed and what he wanted. But fear held him back. In his own heart, he was confused and conflicted. He was haunted by dreams that seemed more like memories, dreams that teased him with images and sensations, but not with anything more. He had tried drawing the pictures he saw in his mind in order to expel them, yet they remained, and the longer he watched his beloved, the stronger they grew. At times, he felt like he was one body with two spirits: his own and another that had not yet revealed itself fully. The one thing he was certain of was that he would watch over Legolas and never let any harm come to him. That was his one overriding desire, protect and love this Sinda King, even if he did it from afar. To be continued… Title: The Undiscovered Country, 3/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Legolas, Glorfindel/Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen, Gimli, to be named Vanya. Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this... Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Eighth and final story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the Fourth Age, in Valinor, after the departure of the last of the members of the Fellowship. The title is taken from Hamlet's soliloquy, "To Be or Not To Be". Summary: Legolas says farewell to one friend and greets another. It was the dawn of a new day, though not a bright one. On the mainland of Aman, sheltered by the Pelóri, the weather changed, yet was never extreme. The island of Tol Eressëa was subject to greater shifts in weather, but neither place was as harsh as Middle-earth. That day, clouds obscured the sun and the sky was a pale gray. The wind blew in from the sea, carrying a chill that did not affect most elves, yet Legolas felt it. The animals had grown winter coats and birds were lining their nests. Legolas was up with the sunrise that day, standing on the balcony of his room in the home he shared with Elladan and Elrohir. Gimli had stayed there the night before, too weary to make the journey back to his own cave. He gazed upon the pall that had fallen over the bay and knew it would be yet another cold and dreary day on the beach he had traveled to every day since shortly after his arrival. He pulled on his gloves and secured his cloak around his shoulders. This day, he would leave Gimli behind, but he wanted to check on his good friend before he left. He walked down the hall and rapped softly upon Gimli's door, and when his friend did not answer, he turned the handle and stepped inside. Gimli was abed still, and at first glance, Legolas thought he had passed in the night. However, Gimli heard the door open and slowly turned his head. Legolas knew immediately that the dwarf's time was short. He hurriedly crossed the room and knelt beside his best friend's bed. He picked up Gimli's small, rough hand and held it between his own. It was cold and limp, so unlike the strong grip he had grown accustomed to in the long years of their friendship. Gimli whispered something and Legolas leaned in to hear it better. Just then, the twins entered the room to check on the dwarf as well. Legolas turned and looked at Elrohir with a mixture of alarm and resignation on his face. "Galadriel," he said softly. "He is asking for Galadriel." Elrohir nodded. "I shall fetch her," he answered, and quickly left the room. Elladan joined Legolas, sitting on the opposite side of the bed from his friend. He smiled at Gimli, and the dwarf took comfort in that reassuring smile. Gimli was not afraid of dying; rather, he had known his time was coming for quite a while. He did not know what would happen to him once his soul left his form, but he felt it would be a relief after spending so many of his last years in a body that could no longer sustain the strength of his spirit. It was difficult to speak, and he had much to say, so he waited for Galadriel to arrive. He would say farewell to the Lady of Light, say farewell to his friends, Elladan and Elrohir, then say goodbye to Legolas last. He had a feeling he would be seeing those he knew on the other side, and he hoped the first to greet him would be Aragorn. Galadriel arrived quickly, and Elladan rose and gave his seat to his grandmother. She leaned forward, her hair covering both her and Gimli's face like a golden shroud. They could hear Gimli's words come out in a rasping whisper, heard her soft reply, then watched her give the dwarf a kiss upon his forehead. She rose from the bed and stood by, her hand upon Elladan's shoulder. The twins each said farewell, each taking a hand and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance, and then they left with Galadriel. Legolas was alone with Gimli. It was getting harder and harder to hold back tears; there was over a century's worth built up inside, threatening to burst forth in a torrent that would drown him. Gimli whispered to him, making Legolas renew his vow to be strong, then he smiled. "He is there, laddie," he whispered. "Keep going to that beach, you will find him." Legolas smiled, even as the tears began to well in his eyes. "Rest well, my good friend," Legolas replied. "Give my love to Aragorn and Éomer." "I will, laddie," Gimli answered, then he closed his eyes, a peaceful smile curving his lips even as the last breath left his body. Legolas shook his head as if the action would undo what had just happened. "No, no, no..." he murmured, over and over. "No more, I can take no more..." He vaguely registered the sound of the door opening and the sound of Elrohir's footsteps. As his good friend placed his arms around his shoulders, he broke down, collapsing against Elrohir's chest and weeping openly. Elrohir held him tight, his own tears falling freely. "I have you," he said softly as he gently rocked Legolas in his arms. "Do not be afraid, I have you." Soon, Elrohir, Elladan and Galadriel surrounded Legolas. The three of them stroked his hair, whispered reassurances to him and soothed his aching heart. How long they lingered there, none of them could be sure; then slowly they rose and prepared to burn Gimli's body in the custom of his people. * * * * The Vanya lingered in the woods until well past midday, waiting for his Sinda to arrive. Anor was beginning her descent into the western sky and he was about to abandon hope when he saw Legolas' boat crossing the bay. His Sinda was alone and he knew immediately that something was wrong; Legolas and Gimli were never apart. In fact, the sight of Legolas alone confirmed what he had known was close at hand; the dwarf was old and close to death, he knew that. Now, he felt grief radiating out from Legolas as surely as if it came from his own heart. The dwarf had passed. Fear clenched at his heart; he imagined the pain Legolas was in and knew he had to do something to soothe it. But what? What could he do? What could he say to ease his beloved's grief when he was too afraid to even approach him? He withdrew into the shadows of the trees as the boat approached and tried to gather his courage. * * * * "Perhaps we should follow him?" Elladan asked, as unsure of the question as he was of the answer. "He would be most aggrieved if we did," Elrohir replied, sinking into the over-stuffed chair. "I fear for him, Elladan. He has suffered long; I do not know how much more he can endure. His hair no longer shines, his eyes seem less brilliant - I fear he is fading." Elladan stood behind his brother's chair, gently kneading the muscles in Elrohir's shoulders. "'Twould be a miracle if he did not. All that meant most to him have been taken from him. Now that Gimli has passed. . ." he sighed. "How many hurts is one supposed to bear?" Elrohir pulled Elladan's hand to his cheek and pressed his face against it. "We still love him," he whispered. "But is that enough?" Elladan asked quietly before bending down to press a kiss to the top of his brother's head. "I do not know," Elrohir answered. "We should have stopped him. We should have kept him here." "There was no keeping him here, Elrohir. You saw the determination in his eyes," Elladan replied. "All we can do now is pray for him and be here for him when he needs us." He rounded the chair and knelt between Elrohir's legs. "I love you, Elrohir," he said softly. Elrohir caressed Elladan's cheek and smiled sadly. "I love you, Elladan," he responded quietly. "What would I ever do without you?" "You will never be without me," Elladan said with a reassuring smile. "Thank the Valar for that." Elrohir leaned down and kissed Elladan gently on the mouth, then pulled his twin into his lap and held him closely as Anor began to sink beneath the mountains. * * * * Legolas sat on the smooth stone as he had done nearly every day since his arrival in Aman. His knees pulled tight to his chest, his arms encircling his legs, he waited. His gaze traveled over the water, over the waves, and his mind traveled back to a place he once loved, to a time when things seemed so much simpler. He was waiting for an answer to a question that had haunted him since before the end of the Ring War. He waited and watched the Sea for the one he had seen in his dreams. That one held the answers to the questions he had, answers that were becoming harder and harder to live without. A sigh escaped him as he sat motionless. The sun was sinking, casting its glow upon the rippling waves. Soon, the day, and his wait, would end. Gimli's passing had been a final injury in a series of hurts that seemed to overwhelm his life. It was not unexpected; Gimli had lived long past the time that a dwarf normally lived. But now that his friend was gone, there were only two left: him and Mithrandir. They were the only two living members of the Fellowship. He looked to the place in the sand where Gimli had often sat with him; his friend faithfully followed him until his aged body would no longer allow it. Just a day ago, Gimli had sat on the sand, his pipe in his hand as he offered his silent support. A tear fell from Legolas' eye as he recalled his good and loyal friend, a friend so loyal that he had left all that he knew behind to sail to a land he had never seen. Legolas knew that many wondered why Gimli did it. Some said the dwarf never lost his sense of adventure, and perhaps that was true, but Legolas knew why Gimli had left Middle-earth, never to return. Gimli had done it for him. As Anor set and Ithil took her place, Legolas rose from his position on the rock as he had done for time uncounted. "Where are you!" he shouted to the empty beach. "Why have you not come?" His voice dropped to a whisper. Instead of walking back to the boat, he began to remove his clothes. "I am tired of waiting," he spoke to the empty beach. "I can wait no more." He folded his cloak, tunic and leggings, placing them in a neat pile beside the rock with his shoes. He then took a deep breath and simply began to walk toward the water. Unbeknownst to him, he had not been alone, for the elf who lived upon the beach had been watching him that day as he had so many days before. The Vanya slowly stood as the Sinda King waded into the water and watched as the water rose past his knees, his waist, and his shoulders. He removed his shoes as the Sinda's head disappeared beneath the water, and then furiously pulled off his tunic and leggings as the mane of flaxen hair began to sink. Charging into the surf, the younger elf dove beneath the waves and did not reemerge until his task was done. He waded out of the water, carrying the cold and limp form of the one he had been watching those many days. Snatching up Legolas' cloak, he wrapped him in it and then carried his beloved into the wood. * * * * Legolas awoke in a strange place. His hair was damp and he was naked. The first sensation he felt was warmth, and he instinctively burrowed back against it as he felt a tremor race through his waking body. As his vision returned, he saw a fire burning in a hearth, and his eyes took in a dimly lit room he had never seen before. As he stirred, he heard a deep voice that sounded familiar, and yet he could not place it. The voice said, "Stay with me, Legolas." It was then that he felt the nearly naked form of a male elf behind him. Two strong arms were wrapped around him and one long, muscular leg was draped over both his own. He remembered wading into the water and sinking. He remembered the piercing pain, like hundreds of daggers driving into his chest as he breathed in the cold water in place of air. Then he remembered hands clasping his arms, arms encircling his body, and the cold winter air filling his lungs as he coughed out the water. He vaguely remembered being wrapped in a cloak and lifted, and then he could remember no more. Slowly he turned in the embrace of this elf who had saved his life, and when his eyes beheld his savior, he stifled a small gasp. The elf was asleep and mumbled softly as he felt his charge move. Legolas gazed at him in wonder; only once had he beheld one so beautiful to his eyes. A thick mane of golden hair crowned his head, it was a color he had seen only twice before. This elf's hair was the same color as Galadriel's and Glorfindel's, which meant he had to be of at least partial Vanyarin blood. His lips were full and soft, his face smooth and flawless as one who was either young or unaffected by the aging of the earth. His body was that of a warrior's, powerfully built yet lean, a model of strength and efficiency. Yet, he had no knowledge of warriors in Aman; since the fall of Morgoth and his slave Sauron, the Elves of Valinor had no need of defenses. Legolas studied his rescuer as thoroughly as he could, given his circumstances. He found it odd that he was not in the least bit uncomfortable or self-conscious in his state of undress, despite the fact that he lay in a stranger's arms, in the stranger's bed. His savior was himself scantily clad, wearing only a loincloth. Since he recalled being cold, a state not common for an elf, he could only surmise that his rescuer was trying to warm him with his own body heat. Legolas could not explain why he did what he did next, nor what prompted him to do such a thing, but he reached out slowly and touched his fingertips to the elf's lips. A shiver ran through him as this beauteous creature sighed, a sound so deep and musical that it caused an answering sigh of his own. The stranger's eyelids began to flutter and the hand that rested on the middle of Legolas' back slid lower. Legolas did not resist as he was pulled closer, the elf's fingers splaying wide as they dipped into the hollow of his lower back. When the elf's eyes opened, Legolas felt his heart stop. Eyes as blue as the summer sky gazed back at him and held him in thrall; they were the eyes he had been searching for. "I know you," he whispered. A smile curved his lips. "I have been waiting for you..." he said, and then he reached for his savior with his mouth. The first kiss was electric, sending waves of heat and passion through him that he had never felt before. Immediately he opened his mouth, entreating the stranger's tongue to enter. He moaned desperately into the kiss as he arched into his savior's arms, molding himself to the elf's body. No further words were spoken. They communicated by touch as their bodies joined. Legolas felt truly alive for the first time in his life. Pain, loneliness, despair began to fall away as they made love. It was not the rushed, heated grappling of wanton lovers, but the slow, gentle lovemaking of two who were meant for one another. How could this elf whom he had never met know how to touch him, where to kiss him to inflame him beyond bearing? Immediately, Legolas gave himself to this stranger whose name he did not know. What was the knowing of a name compared to the knowing of a heart? Each touch, each caress, each kiss healed him as nothing had before. He wanted to say the words that would seal the bond he felt building between them. Yet, he could not find his voice beyond the moans and sighs that seemed to have their own will. He wrapped his legs around the elf's waist, pressing his body to him, reveling in each caress, each touch, each magical and wonderful kiss. This elf kissed him like one who loved him, held him like one who worshipped him. This elf made him whole again. He thrust into the elf's strong hand, a heartbreaking cry escaping his lips as his seed spilled forth. The long years of loneliness had taken their toll on him, and he slipped into a deep sleep, holding tightly to the one who had saved his life in more ways than one. "Rest, my beloved Greenleaf," the elf whispered to him, and Legolas drifted into reverie as a tear of joy fell from his eye. To be continued... Title: The Undiscovered Country, 4/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Legolas/Síreranu (OMC), Glorfindel/Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC) Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Eighth and final story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the Fourth Age, in Valinor, after the departure of the last of the members of the Fellowship. The title is taken from Hamlet's soliloquy, "To Be or Not To Be". Many thanks to Claudio's Quenya name generator on the Elf Fetish website for "Síreranu", hopefully I didn't mess up in the construction. Summary: Legolas finds the one he has been searching for. Legolas awoke, blinking to adjust his eyes to the light. Morning had come and he was still in the stranger's bed. He sat up slowly, rubbing his face as he struggled to shake off the last vestiges of reverie. The smell of cinnamon and honey greeted his nose, and as he looked down at the foot of the bed, he found a robe. He rose slowly, pulling on the robe and venturing over to the table in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of tea and picked up a warm slice of cinnamon bread. Drizzling honey over it, he then took a bite and uttered a small moan of satisfaction. He stood in the stranger's kitchen and looked around the small, but homey abode. The house consisted of one large room with a bathing closet off to one side. The furniture was simple and elegantly carved from trees that grew upon the island. Large, paned windows were on every wall, and in the center of the room was the bed they had slept in. A large fireplace served as both a source of warmth and a place to cook, and a large, iron pot sat on the hearth beside the firebox. Wood was neatly stacked in a carved box next to the hearth, and a large, overstuffed chair sat in front of the fireplace. It was small compared to the twins' home, but it felt comfortable. The stranger was nowhere to be found, and Legolas ventured out the front door onto a large porch. In one corner was a swing, suspended from the porch roof by four chains, in the other corner was a long bench that reminded him of the ones that used to be in Elrond's garden. The house was surrounded on three sides by a thick grove of trees, and on the west side was a garden filled with winter vegetables. Legolas smiled as deer gazed at him from the trees, their nostrils flaring as they watched the strange elf standing on the porch. He took a deep breath, taking in the cold, crisp air that smelled of pine and cedar and that reminded him of home. He then returned to the kitchen and sipped his tea by the fire. He was still feeling a bit tired and chilled; it would take a little while to recover from so many years of weariness, he supposed. He finished his tea then returned to the bed, pulling the thick blankets up around his chin and settling in against the soft pillows. Smiling, he thought he could he live in this quaint, comfortable home nestled in amongst the tall trees. Soon his eyes began to drift closed and he slipped into reverie once more. The Vanya returned from his morning swim; he was a bit behind schedule this day as he was loath to leave his beloved in bed. It had been the first restful night he had spent, holding Legolas in his arms. It was as though this was how things were meant to be all along and that was why his life thus far had felt so out of sorts. He stood by the fire, drying his hair with a thick cloth and watching his beloved Greenleaf in his slumber. How was it possible that he could love this elf so deeply, so profoundly, when they had only just met the night before? How was it possible that he could know with such certainty that his life's purpose was to love and protect this elf who was thousands of years his senior? Legolas. The Sinda's name rolled off his tongue as if he had been saying it all his life. Greenleaf. Yes, that was the name his beloved preferred to be called by him, though how he knew that he did not know. How had he known that a gentle suckling of the point of Legolas' right ear would give his lover such pleasure? Of course, all elves found that action to be pleasing, but for Legolas, for his Greenleaf, he knew that it would be ever more so. How had he known to find that spot beneath his lover's jaw, or that Legolas' right nipple was more sensitive than his left, or that his Sinda liked it when he squeezed and kneaded his buttocks? He was no novice in bed, yet he had not had many lovers. So how was it that he knew exactly what to do and how to do it to give Legolas so much pleasure? Half of the slices of cinnamon bread were gone, as was a good portion of the honey. The pot was light, so his beloved had liked the chamomile tea he had prepared. The Vanya hung a small iron pot over the flames and warmed more water before pouring the last of the tea into a cup for himself. The heat of the fire warmed his flesh after his brisk swim, and he hung the towel on a peg near the fireplace to dry. Clouds were moving in and rain would soon be falling, bringing life-giving moisture and nutrients to the plants and trees that made up his island home. He closed the door and latched it as the wind began to increase, then stoked the fire after removing the pot and preparing more tea. Rain began to fall, gently pattering against the wooden shingles of his roof, and he moved toward the bed, tossing his robe upon the foot as he slid beneath the covers. Legolas smiled and rolled into his arms, his beloved's long fingers leisurely exploring his body. The Vanya's body responded immediately, arching and slowly undulating beneath his lover's touch. He brushed his lips against Legolas' forehead and smiled as his lover opened his eyes. He caressed Legolas' face, brushing his hair back behind his ears. "Did you sleep well, my love?" he asked softly. Legolas rose up on his elbows and cocked his head. "You are Vanyarin," he said quietly. The Vanya switched to Sindarin. "Yes. Do you understand my native tongue?" Legolas nodded. "Aye, I am getting used to speaking it again. I learned it when I was young." He caressed the Vanya's face. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, and leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss upon his lover's lips. The Vanya moaned deeply, a sound that called to Legolas on a most profound and carnal level. His body responded immediately as he pressed against his lover, the evidence of his state of arousal pressing against the Vanya's thigh. "I slept very well," he murmured against his lover's lips. "Better than I have in many, many years." "I am glad," his lover responded in a deep whisper, nuzzling his mouth in response. "I want to please you," he continued. "Oh, you do, more than you know," Legolas answered as he took his lover's mouth in a deep kiss again. The Vanya pulled Legolas on top of him, parting his legs so that his Sinda could rest between his thighs. He yielded to Legolas' thorough perusal of his mouth, deep moans echoing between them as he arched and moved against his beloved. "I love you," he found himself saying, hearing the words as if it was someone else who had spoken them. "I love you, as well," Legolas answered. "I have loved you all my life…" He made his way from the Vanya's mouth to his chest, gently suckling a nipple until it was engorged and hot beneath his lips. He explored his lover's muscular chest, his hands roaming, fingers exploring as his mouth continued to suckle and nip the pebbled nipples. His lover arched beneath him; he could feel the Vanya's length swelling and rolling between their bodies. They were perfectly matched, each knowing exactly what to do to the other to give the most pleasure. The Vanya groaned as Legolas took him into his mouth, his hands wadding in a mass of flaxen hair that seemed to grow thicker and more brilliant by the moment. It was like living silk that cascaded down the Sinda's back, past lean, muscular buttocks, covering both Legolas' back and his own thighs. He felt his body tighten, felt his heart swelling with love, and then he felt as if he was falling and he heard a voice that was his, but was not, whisper, "Greenleaf…" He came with a cry, spilling down Legolas' throat then trembling as his beloved cleaned him with his tongue. He continued to tremble as Legolas made his way back up his body to his mouth, then kissed him deeply and held his lover close to his chest. He slowly opened his eyes and met Legolas' deep azure gaze. "What is your name?" Legolas asked softly. The Vanya smiled. "Síreranu," he replied. "Wandering river," Legolas murmured. "It is a beautiful name." "I was conceived near a river outside the village where my parents lived on the mainland. As an elfling, I would often wander through the woods and be found playing near that same river. So, my parents named me Síreranu." Legolas thought back to the story his father had told him about how Thranduil was given his name. This elf had to be his father reincarnated, he had but to look in the Vanya's eyes to see his father gazing back at him. Even their names were similar: wandering river and river shield. It had to be him. He felt it. Legolas was rolled to his back and covered with Síreranu's form, and he wrapped his long arms around his lover. Whether this Vanya knew the origins of his own spirit was unknown to Legolas. He wanted to speak to Síreranu, to find out how much he remembered, but was unsure as to how to proceed. Soon, all coherent thought left him and all he could do was respond as his beloved played his body like a lyre. He sighed and moaned as he was kissed and touched. This Vanya was an amazing lover, so attuned to his every desire. He groaned deeply as Síreranu took him in his mouth, and he surrendered to an overwhelming flood of love and desire. He allowed himself to be loved and to love in return, and the pain he had carried for so long finally disappeared. They lay in one another's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal as they listened to the rain falling outside. "I am sorry," Síreranu said quietly. Legolas rose up and looked at his lover. "For what?" "I am sorry I did not come to you sooner, and I am sorry that you have lost your friend." "But you did come to me, and you came when I needed you most. You are here now, that is all that matters," Legolas answered. "As for Gimli, while I will miss him greatly, he lived a full life and died content." He cocked his head. "How old are you?" he asked quietly. "I am one hundred and twenty two years old, this past summer. Why?" Síreranu asked. Síreranu was born just after his father died. Was it yet another coincidence, or was it more proof? "I have much to learn about you," Legolas answered. "And I want to know it all." "I know much about you already," Síreranu replied. "I spent many days listening to you and your friend talk about your days in the Hither-lands." "You were there? All that time?" Síreranu closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "I am sorry; but I was afraid, and I did not know it was me you sought; at least I did not know until you said so last night." Legolas caressed his lover's face. "What were you afraid of?" "I do not know, not really." "Tell me," Legolas replied softly. "You can trust me." "I know I can, though how I know this, I cannot be sure." Síreranu rose from the bed and retrieved a leather-bound book, handing it to Legolas. "I have heard stories about the land you ruled in the Hither-lands. Mirkwood, it was called?" Legolas opened the book. "Aye, though my father and Lord Celeborn renamed it Eryn Lasgalen after the ending of the war." "I have had this book for years. I started drawing in it just before I reached my majority, and that was long before I began hearing stories of the Hither-lands from those who sailed from there." Legolas' fingers trembled slightly as he turned the pages in the book. Page after page, each filled with drawings, most done with charcoal. The drawings became more refined, more detailed as the artist's skill increased. There were pictures of caves, tall trees, a bridge, a river, sketches of blackberry brambles and deer, drawings of archers clad in tan and pale blue, the colors of his Silvan kindred. There were pictures of mountains, of spiders, of black squirrels, and pictures of orcs. There was a picture of him, sitting astride his copper mare that he trained when he was a youth, smiling broadly. Yet, there was not one picture of his father; there were only pictures of what his father would have seen. The last page contained a picture of Lórien, there was no mistaking the mellryn, which grew nowhere else. The image included elves who could only be Galadriel and Celeborn, along with Haldir and Orophin. The largest image was that of Rúmil. He was beginning to tremble, though he tried to hide it. The proof lay in his hands, yet Síreranu did not seem to understand it. He looked at his beloved. "Where? How?" "Do you know these faces, these places? They come from my dreams," Síreranu answered. "It looks like…like, my home," Legolas whispered. "I cannot understand how I could have dreams of a place I have never seen, of elves I have never seen. The day you arrived, I saw this one." He pointed at Rúmil. "I recognized him, though I could not say why, because I know we have never met. I was able to slip away before he could see through my ruse." Legolas could see the confusion in his lover's eyes. While Síreranu needed answers to these questions, somehow Legolas knew that now was not the time and he was not the one to provide them. He closed the book and placed it on the table beside the bed, then turned and shifted, settling upon Síreranu's lap. "We will find one who can answer these questions, I promise you. Until then, I will try to ease your discomfort." He began placing soft kisses upon Síreranu's face. His lover smiled against his lips and then felt Síreranu's hands upon his thighs. Laughing, Legolas was pulled closer and wrapped his legs around his beloved's hips. "I have greatly needed this," he murmured. "So have I," Síreranu replied as he nibbled the sensitive flesh beneath Legolas' jaw. "Oh, I like that…" Legolas replied breathlessly. "I know," Síreranu answered as he laid back and pulled Legolas with him. To be continued… Title: The Undiscovered Country, 5/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Legolas/Síreranu (OMC), Glorfindel/Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC) Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, angst and incest. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Eighth and final story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the Fourth Age, in Valinor, after the departure of the last of the members of the Fellowship. The title is taken from Hamlet's soliloquy, "To Be or Not To Be". Many thanks to Claudio for his Quenya name generator on the Elf Fetish website for "Síreranu", hopefully I didn't mess up in the construction. Summary: The twins prepare to send out a search party when Legolas returns. Elrohir paced the floor, nervously tugging at the hem of his tunic. Rain was falling hard outside now, and the inevitable thoughts of Legolas lying somewhere half dead kept flooding his mind. "He has always returned at night," he murmured. "It has been over a day now." Elladan watched his twin pacing back and forth. "We will search for him as soon as Anor rises." He tried to assuage Elrohir's fears, but that was hard to do when he had his own. Elrohir was right, Legolas had always returned, but he had not done so since Gimli's death. The afternoon of Gimli's funeral, late in the day, the Sinda had simply walked away without a word to anyone. Elladan's instinct, and Elrohir's instinct, had been to follow Legolas, to make sure that their friend would be all right after this latest blow. Galadriel had stayed them, counseling them that Legolas would need time alone. Glorfindel and Erestor had agreed, as had the twins' parents, so they heeded that advice and let Legolas leave. Now Elladan wondered if that had been the right decision. Reaching out, he grasped Elrohir's wrist and pulled him toward the bed. Elrohir sank down beside him and leaned against him, and he pressed a kiss to his younger brother's head. "It will be all right, Elrohir, I promise," he murmured. Elrohir wrapped his arms around Elladan's waist. His elder twin had been so patient with him for so long, and he continued to be even now. He knew Elladan loved Legolas, but he also knew that the bond between them was nothing more than friendship now, as it had been for many years. He had not been able to let go so easily himself; instead, he clung to the hope that somehow the three of them would find a way to share their love on a more intimate level. He supposed he knew deep down that it could never be, for the love among the three of them could never be truly equal. Legolas would never see into their hearts and minds the way they saw into one another's; in addition, their friend's heart had belonged to another from the very beginning. Elrohir curled against Elladan as his elder twin lay down on the bed, and he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to find rest that night. * * * * Ithil's light illuminated the bedroom of Síreranu's room, casting a pale, silver glow upon the floor and the bed. Legolas lay on his stomach, his arms folded beneath his head and his legs slightly spread apart. Síreranu sat upon the tops of his thighs, kneading the muscles in his shoulders and back, drawing his hands down the length of his spine in slow, warming strokes. Legolas could feel his lover's hands gliding through the oil, working life back into his long neglected body. Many years ago, when he was not yet of majority, he remembered falling off his mare when he had asked too much of her in training. He had ached from head to toe, and nothing the healers did had made a difference. It had been his father's hands that healed him, gently kneading the bruised muscles and removing the stiffness, just as Síreranu did now. His father's touch had contained no sensuality, nor did it contain any special healing qualities beyond that of a father's love and tenderness for his son; this encounter, however, was one lover awakening another, and Legolas' body responded in turn. He moved gently against Síreranu's slow, sensual touch, arching and bowing, pressing into hands that seemed to know how to touch him perfectly. "I must return in the morning," he murmured, his voice almost swallowed by the pillow. "Your friends, Elladan and Elrohir, they will be worried about you, yes?" "Yes. I have been living with them and have faithfully returned each night. This will make the second night that I have not returned. Given that I left after the funeral, I am sure they suspect the worst." "They were nearly right," Síreranu answered softly. Legolas closed his eyes. It was shame he felt, because of his weakness. "I was so tired," he said quietly. "There is no need to explain," Síreranu replied. "I felt your pain. I was weak, or I would have approached you sooner." He leaned forward and nuzzled his lover's ear. "Had I been braver, we would have been making love these many months instead of you waiting and me watching." "I love you," Legolas whispered. "And I love you, my Greenleaf," Síreranu replied. "I love it when you call me that," Legolas answered in a deep whisper. "I know," Síreranu answered. "The only other one I have ever wholly loved used to call me that." "Who was that?" Síreranu asked. "My father," Legolas whispered. Síreranu furrowed his brow, but did not pause in his ministrations. "You loved him very much, no?" "I did. He was my best friend, my mentor, my father and my king." Legolas withheld the most important part of his love for Thranduil, for fear that his lover would not understand. "I am sure he loved you equally." Legolas sighed. "He did and he still does." "Have you found him? Has he been reborn?" "I am not sure, not yet…" Legolas whispered. Shifting beneath his lover, he rolled to his back as Síreranu rose to his knees. "Make love to me," Legolas said softly as he reached out for his beloved. "With pleasure," Síreranu answered as he covered Legolas' form with his own. * * * * "Where have you been!" Elrohir shouted at Legolas as he came through the doorway. Elladan dropped his pack on the floor and glowered at the Sinda. "You arrived just in time to save us the trouble of searching for you." Legolas schooled his expression into one of penitence, something he had not needed to do since he was young. It was hard to conceal the joy he felt, though he was sure Elrohir would sense it once the twin's anger faded. "I am sorry," Legolas murmured as he focused on the tips of his boots. Soon Elladan and Elrohir embraced him and he heard Elrohir's deep voice in his ear, "You nearly frightened me to death…" He squeezed Elrohir tighter. "I am so sorry; please forgive me." "It is hard to know exactly what to do," Elladan replied. "Part of me wants to throttle you, part of me wants to hang on to you and not let go." "Are you all right?" Elrohir asked as he slowly relinquished his hold on Legolas. Legolas nodded as the twins stepped back and looked him over. "Aye. I just could not bear the thought of hearing condolences ever again," he said quietly. Elladan nodded, remembering all too well when he reached that same place after his mother had been attacked. "You look different," he said softly. Elrohir reached out and ran his fingers through Legolas' waist-long flaxen hair. "You do look different, your hair is shining again." He touched Legolas' cheek. "Your skin is soft and warm again…" Elladan smiled. "And your eyes, I see that spark that I have missed these many years. You have found him, have you not?" Legolas penitent expression changed into one of utter joy. "I do believe I have," he answered with a broad grin. "Though I cannot be sure. The one I have found has no memory of once being my father." Elladan furrowed his brow. "Did you voice your suspicions?" Legolas shook his head. "No. I felt that it would be too much of a shock considering we had spent the better part of a day…" his voice trailed off as he smiled. Elladan grinned broadly and nodded. "Say no more. You saw it in his eyes, yes?" "I did, though I want you to see him too, to confirm it. But every bone in my body, all my instincts tell me it is him," Legolas replied. Elrohir crossed his arms over his chest. "There is one problem with this," he began. Legolas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?" "How is he going to react when he learns of the origins of his spirit, knowing you had foreknowledge of who he is and made love to him anyway?" Elrohir queried. "If he does not remember fully, then this could be the cause of great concern to him. If he cannot accept it…" Legolas frowned. "He loves me, Elrohir. He will accept it, just as I did when I first realized it." "Yes, but with that realization came great pain…" Elrohir began. "Only because he was my father then," Legolas interrupted. "My father's spirit resides in his form, but he is his own self; he has his own life, his own memories. He is more than just my father." Elrohir sighed as Elladan placed his hand upon Legolas' shoulder. "Perhaps you should seek counsel as to how best to proceed," the elder twin responded. Legolas nodded. "I will speak with Glorfindel upon the morrow." Elladan squeezed Legolas' shoulder. "He should be able to offer some sage advice." Legolas looked back at Elrohir. "Please say you are happy for me, Elrohir. It means so much to me that you share in my happiness." Elrohir gathered Legolas into his arms. "I am happy for you," he answered softly. "I just want you to be careful; I do not wish to see you hurt again." "I will not be," Legolas answered as he squeezed Elrohir. "Thank you, both of you, for everything you have done for me." "We love you," Elladan murmured as he leaned his head against Elrohir's. "And I love both of you, you are dear friends to me," Legolas answered. "Come," Elladan said quietly. "Tell us where you have been and what has happened these last two days." The three friends adjourned to the veranda where Legolas told his tale. To be continued…